Disclosure

The witching hour is upon us,the streets are deserted,not a mouse stirs in the silence. Lights have gone out all over the city's and people rest in deep slumber. Traffic has slowed to a mere trickle. In side a hospital room I sit vigil besides my mother,my only companions are her steady breathing,and a beeping monitor.

The day started with news that we had a test appointment for one o clock. It sent me into a tizzy resulting in feeling sick and troubled. My prayers seem to be hitting a wall,I am left in limbo. Am I trusting too much on myself. Isn't it true that one must believe in all things,have faith that all will be well in gods own time?...yes true but as usual I worry. 

God and I are currently playing cat and mouse. I pray for courage,it fails me,I pray for strength ,it fails me,I pray that my mother must become fine,but everyday is a challenge.....I despair.a

By evening I have found courage, despite a lack of sleep I've driven my car with more confidence than ever before.,I've found strength and my mother seems in a better place for a while. She actually sleeps.

Now why I wonder doesn't God answer when I ask. Why is there this necessity to wait,to make me despair,to test me at every moment. No answer. I cannot but believe that the God I believe in is a shrewd operator. Do e really appreciate the things that come easy,to we really remember God when all is well,do we acknowledge his presence if there is no crisis....true on all counts where I am concerned.

So I have to be taught to appreciate kindness,compassion,and love. I need to understand that nothing that is thrown at me is beyond my capabilities,that I won't be tested beyond what I can handle,but those are limits that are set not by me

Don't for a moment think I've had a revelation,it's a slow acknowledgment of collective wisdom. My school friends have been pillars of strength. All of them have experiences of pain and tragedy. All of it involves parents ,and all of them share the same experiences. They have all knocked on heavens door and they have all come out stronger. 

Non religious girls who tell me to pray,girls who tell me God works miracles. Girls who would never discuss their fait,now share without restraint. They are my support systems. A shared childhood,a long gap of not knowing where we all were and now as we all face our biggest tests,they come in droves,with help,advice and support. So I say thank you,not just to technology but to an all seeing God. For teaching me humility,for giving me family,for the wealth of friends and above all ,for a mother who even in her pain,holds out courage and concern and who will always be my biggest and best role model of inner courage

Animal farm

Two beautiful funny dogs have given me enough joy and stories,and now there is another. Animal lovers can sometimes be intimidating,their zeal can unnerve the not so passionate ones. I love animals,but I don't feed strays,I don't keep pets,and neither do I rescue animals. A friend started with one cat and now has a house full of them and many more being fed on a daily basis. How do neighbours put up with it I wonder.

Recently we got new neighbours,who came not with children,but with the two madcap dogs. Crows which hovered over our terrace now act like they own the place,the pigeon population has increased and the battle line have been drawn between the crow and pigeon camps. All this made possible by a daily feeding in the mornings. The happy fall out is that they no longer find my vegetable seeds exciting so perhaps I can grow my own vegetables without worrying about protecting my plants.

A fierce barking and much excitement by the two dogs got my attention today. I walk up to find our what the fuss is all about,to be encountered not by two dogs but three. A beautiful black retriever wags her tail at me and makes herself comfortable in my feet. She was rescued this morning from a neighbours house where she was abandoned. My animal lover neighbour like my cat friend has slowly but surely brought in more animals. Do we have the heart to refuse shelter?,not even my not so animal loving husband ,can say no. So that's how it starts. Suddenly going too the terrace is an incentive. The dogs have added value to my garden and my animal loving neighbour hasn't gone quiet the way of the fanatical animal rights activists....so for the moment I am enjoying the company of three dogs,one of whom is without a name. With the birds and dogs around one is wondering when this city residence will become animal farm

The scan

After a long time perhaps years,the three sisters sat down to have a chat about a procedure that the doctor ordered. Doubts rage in our mind,we have different concerns and the only way out is to speak to the one doctor we trust. So we do and our hearts are a little at ease. 

The morning is an ordeal,I am sick with worry,memories of previous ct scan rooms haunt me. Claustrophobia sets in ,I pace the floor of my house,cook with a vengeance and can't sleep. Then it's time to get my mother off to the scan place. All three sisters gather with one brother in law (two of them are on permanent driving duty) and we wait while our mother is loaded on to an ambulance and whisked off....we follow in the car. One sister as usual is a picture of calm.the other is tight with tension,while I oscillate between calmness and stress. 

Not for the first time I thank German engineering. The scan machine is sophisticated,and non threatening. It's been ten years....I took my 85 year old father  to get a scan done and history repeats itself. I have a morbid fear of the age eight five. It was at this stage that my father got a stroke and went downhill all the way. As we celebrated my mothers 85, all the anxiety associated with that age came back and unfortunately I was once again confronted with that dismal feeling of deja vu

I don a radioactive protection suit and sit with my mother for the duration of the scan and then we get back. I am as usual running on tension fuel ,sleep deprived but high on stress. The mother as usual rises to the occasion and is not as stressed. Does having all her daughters around her give her confidence,does she's just not have to worry that I am doing all this alone. Perhaps,I will never know,we don't have such discussions in our family but for now I am glad of company and support.

Mother notes

Sarcasm is my mothers favourite form of defence and not even illness or hospital beds can't blunt that.

If hospital food is bad,it's a lot worse for someone like her who is a brilliant cook. On her first day ,aghast at the quality of tea,she insisted to giving the staff a masterclass on tea making.

My eldest sister when left loose in the kitchen,can become the queen of cutting corners. With two fish to feed six people she cut it up into bite size pieces and saved it for lunch. The husband who is used to my mothers generous slices of fish was not sure what he was eating. The mother wasn't a used....a resigned shrug was all she could manage that day but on the next when the said sister,decided to ration all the meat in the house and to serve vegetarian meals in some days,the mother had enough. She quickly brought it to the notice of the daughter that this was. It acceptable. Ever since her first question to me is what the menu is ....

Being somewhat small physically she tends to slip down the large hospital bed. At regular intervals we have to prop her up and it's no mean task. My second sister and I managed it between us and her response was that there are some virtues in becoming fat. Was that a back handed compliment? Knowing my mother I doubt very much

Her constant observations of the staff can keep us in fits. The cleaner girls with their garish earrings get maximum attention. She cannot understand the need to wear such stuff when cleaning bathrooms. Doesn't say much for fashion sense according to her.

Then the nurses,she has her favourites. A chubby,bubbly girl is the one she likes best and one can't blame her. The girl breezes in with a chirpy good morning and my Mother's Day is made. She has managed to get all the little details of the girls life out of her ,has discussed her hometown and what it's famous for...the mother has also extended an invitation for lunch to the said nurse.

Not so much love for the night nurse who gets on her nerves....from calling her a bean pole to claiming she gives herself airs,there are no end to complaints. Not unwarranted considering the girl inflicted pain with her incompetence and had no solution to problems.

The doctor ofcourse is well loved but when she starts her lecture on the dos and don't s of recovery my mother claims the doctor was on a lecturing mood....what she didn't mention was that it was too close to what her daughters have been telling her....what she also didn't admit was that she knew we had put the doctor up to the lecture knowing the scant attention shed pays to our pleas.

The male nurses are her favourites,young boys who can lift her on to the bed with ease always come in first on her list of nice things in life...needless to say the boys in question are both well mannered,respect age and are super efficient.

Her assessment of human nature may seem flawed but when one is 85 ,life itself has taught her much. More often than not,she is right about most of them and God forbid we disagree.

John,Peter,thomas and three sisters

Three sisters brought up by same parents but all as different as chalk and cheese. The eldest married for some forty odd years,is a calm woman,whose faith can literally move mountains. Very involved in church activities,with a huge circle of like minded church people,she has not really been alone to fight battles especially the spiritual kind. She finds the bible relevant and not intimidating,she finds the christian life secure and not under too much stress. Over the years this fellowship has strengthened her faith and it keeps her calm in crisis,dramatic in normal like and dreamy at other times. She can quote the most appropriate verse from poems,bible,literature and there is never a dull moment. While her eye for detail leaves a lot to be desired,her presence can calm my mother like nothing else can. In a crisis she can use her age and cunning to get everyone to work as she demonstrated rather ably in hospital today,getting a solution to a problem which neither my second sister or I would have achieved. 

We decided to liken ourselves to biblical characters and the eldest was chosen to be John. He supposedly was the calm one full of love who was entrusted to look after Mary the mother of Jesus . So trusted and dependable in crisis we think

The next one is always highly strung,more so if it involves her family. Many a crisis she has faced unfazed but can go completely to pieces when the mother is in hospital. She will micro manage every moment. In her eagerness to be useful she can get in the way of progress. Trust us a big issue,she can't trust anyone. She will try and help the nurse because she can't be sure that she will do her job well,the weary nurse is too tired to protest. She will get her anxiety to scary levels and expect doctors and nurses to scuttle around like we are the only ones in hospital. She will clutch at all the negatives and imagine thee worst. We decide she is Peter,impulsive,she was quick to deny Jesus a minutes after professing unfailing love and loyalty. Like Peter who thought he was too low to have his feet washed by Jesus (when that was what Jesus wanted to ) my sister is always wanting to give her family love and loyalty but finds it difficult to take it. Unlike the older sister, she has no fellowship with people of great faith so has to muddle along with little spiritual understanding. This naturally doesn't do much for an anxious person.

Cut to me,the youngest. At thirteen I had my first encounter with fear,the fear of loosing a parent. My mother went hypoglycaemic on Christmas Eve and I was a terrified teenager. My father too busy having a blast at a Christmas party ,was of no use. I did manage to find one person in thee neighbours Christmas party who was sober enough to help and so we managed to revive her. That was my first brush with having to take responsibility and it hasn't stopped . Over the years I have had to earn my living ,look after parents as they got older,dealt with doctors,hospitals and numerous care givers,and it hasn't been easy. Finding it hard to ask for help,and troubled with a fear of imposing on anyone,I try hard not to even ask my husband for help. Growing up in a family with an uneasy relationship with church and all things religious,my faith was developed in school at a very simple childish level. Not for me the high intellectual discussions of bible study groups or Christian conferences. Not for me the fellowship of church people. With more non Christian friends and a husband also of another faith,having live in the cut throat world of media professionals,I do tend to have a more liberal approach to life. Christian friends only encouraged my deep suspicion of all things religious. My background was of deep distrust of the church and clergy and neither has proved me wrong. I rage and fight and struggle to believe,to have faith. In a crisis I will pray fervently but can never see or understand what my eldest sister would call as gods plan. I believe in doing everything that I can possibly can and then leave God to work his magic. Because I haven't been in the company of many Christians and because the few I have checked out have bored me to tears with their self righteousness I have avoided fellowship of any kind. I am scared of being judged immoral or unchristian in a strict moral world of church people. We likened me to Thomas ,doubting thomas,he needed to see the wounds of Jesus to believe in the resurrection. 

So between John,Peter and thomas ,it looks like the tree sisters are slowly but surely learning to appreciate each other's strengths,and supporting each other's in faith. How much will we learn from all this I wonder but instead of being a doubting thomas perhaps I must learn to deal with stuff with a little faith

Time hangs

Times hangs heavy in a hospital room...the silence is broken by the beep beep of a heart monitor,the hum of the air conditioner and the slow whirl of the ceiling fan. In the hospital bed my mother lies tossing and turning in a never ending dance if discomfort. Hour after heavy hour I sit watching over her,the feeling of helplessness in danger of overwhelming me. All around the city sleeps,darkness punctuated only by dim street lights and the eerie wail of the ambulances that ply the roads,taking critically ill people to hospitals ...families living in hope,despair and helplessness.

I try reading,I write,I pray anything to keep busy,anything to dull the pain of watching a parent suffer. Its small relief. Laboured breathing breaks through and I am brought back to reality with a thud.

The slow dance of a modern hospital is one of continuous medication,injections,blood tests or other tests...followed by physiotherapists...why I wonder don't we have palliative care...why are old people not just made to feel comfortable instead of having to put them through all these procedures. Why is palliative car such an unattractive field of Medicine even though it's so critical.

I am trying to be brave,you will hear my calm voice and see a cheerful face but inside me I am dying,slowly but surely...it's hard to keep up this pretence but for my mothers sake I have to. I plead everyday to God for strength to carry on. I am glad I can write it all down,it's easier. It's release.

It's seven hours to dawn and I can't imagine what to do with the time. Did I ever wait for time to fly. If I didn't before then I most certainly do now. There is nothing more to say..I am reminded of the poem which we learnt as children. That which we are we are,one equal temper of heroic hearts ,made weak by time and fate but strong in will,to strive to seak to find and not to yield 

Battling

One day all is well and in the very next everything is spiralling out of control. It was a perfectly normal Sunday and my mother was in the kitchen doing what she does best ....cooking. Here health was according to all intents and purposes,good considering her age. So what happens when she suddenly goes breathless and fights to keep her head above water. What does one do in those circumstances. It is the nature of human beings to fight for survival and my mother told me what to do and which hospital to take her too. Far too many times I have worried if I would get an ambulance on time,would it make its way through traffic fast enough. I have worried myself sick that I won't know what to do in a crisis,in short I have had niggling worries at the back of my head ever since my old parents have had to depend on me for health. It's been eight years since my father passed away and while I have come to terms with it ,the experience has left its scars,the suction machine in a hospital frightens me,lots of things scare me so when my mother took I'll in the middle of the night I went on auto pilot and got her to the hospital and into a sick room ,called her doctor and then waited and prayed for strength for me and my mother. I also called my sisters to get some physical help.

I stayed as calm as I could despite my heart beating like a drum,despite it sinking inside of me at the truma that she and I were about to face. I didn't shed a tear,my mother calmed down. I gave her some confidence,whispered into her ears that I would be with her every step of the way and prayed.

Today three days later she still fights for breath. My own stops in time with hers,my heart races and I fear for her. I hope that my sisters arrival will ease my stress but it doesn't. My mother has got too used to me,she needs me around to give her confidence. She thinks I know it all when actually I know nothing.

Eight years ago I sat as I do today pouring my angst out on this blog sitting in a hospital room . Today it's a deep sense of deja vu. I am sitting in almost the same position,the room faces the same direction and my mothers laboured breathing fills the air. She is on a machine which beeps. The lights are bright in the room and it's not a nice place to be but it's probably worse for her. What thoughts rush through the mind of an 85 year old in a hospital bed fighting to breath. Does her life run through in memories. My mother has battled many a storm but has stayed strong. Lesser women would have given up but she fought . Today's I fight my tears,I fight to stay strong for her. To see her to the bitter end without giving up hope. I tell myself that while there is life there is hope. I ask God for strength and courage and I wait as I did once before. Do we get used to it? No,it's a battle we all go through,each in their own way but a situation one can never avoid. 

Suffering

Waiting for someone to fall asleep is hard. More so when the person is hooked up to a machine and is in distress. Worse when it is someone you love and can't imagine doing without. I spend my nights in a hospital room watching my mother swing back and forth . We are still not sure what to do. All we do is wait...and endless wait . I am tired but this is not about me,it's about my mother and the quality of her life. What do you wish for a woman who has had a hard life?. Is it asking too much that she must meet her maker in peace and suddenly or must she suffer the indignity of a hospital bed hooked to multiple machines,with no respite from medication ,injections,and lab tests. Isn't it enough that her children are around to help. Isn't it enough that much has been done to make he life comfortable and that the end must be peaceful. What is the point of so much suffering. Life must in due course bring pain and suffering butt modern science seems to have made a fine art of keeping people alive through technology's though knowing very little than before. In times gone by people live and died without the aid of hospitals or medical science. As a ripe fruit falls to the earth when it's time has come,we did that too,dying in peace with our families around us,happy in the knowledge that we are loved.

My uncle died at 97 without seeing the inside of a hospital,another friend is hundred and one and is sleeping more than he should but is not suffering. He hasn't seen the inside of a hospital either. What did they do different. What did my mother do to have to go through all this pain. Is there a purpose to all this. If so I can't see a reason. My elder sister has gone through three such incidents and is a little more familiar with the routine. Being a calm person she seems to deal with it better. My second sister has had only one experience and is so anxious she makes everyone around her nervous too. But that is her way of coping with the situation. And there is me. All my life I have lived with my mother or she with me. Our lives are entwined with each other's. She knows my every mood and I know her. No one seeing me will imagine the storm raging in my soul. I pray,I rage but it's all internal. The pressure to hold it all together is getting the better of me. Ofcourse it's a lot easier this time because there is support in abundance but I can't see this day and night I can't see the end and I can't see how we will cope with this situation. My faith fluctuates swinging like a pendulum. I am tempted to give God my shopping list,but I know he's not interested. He know what I need and will provide. Don't for a moment think I am asking for my mother to live forever. I am realistic enough to know that she has to leave some day,but can't she do it easier?...couldn't she have had a fever or something as unserious. How do you deal with a lung collapse of a woman who has not had a cold in years.

I can feel my heart racing I can feel my blood pressure rising. I know this is not about ,me but a I feel her pain. Every laboured breath is like it's mine. Every distress sign is mine. The monitor mocks me all night throwing up numbers that can rise and ebb with equal measure. I sit through the night watching her sleep,praying silently that she must rest. I fell like the criminal with Jesus on the cross who asked if "you are the son of god why don't you save yourself and us". I feel angry that she has to go through with this. In a country of billions of people human life has little value and medical science is a billion dollar or more industry. It is expensive...critical care is expensive,home nursing is expensive and we are at the mercy of large businesses. Falling ill isn't just about the suffering of the person concerned. It's also about not having decent infrastructure to heal or to offer palliative care. So unlike countries where people's dignity is important or quality of life is important,here we just keep things going. 

When will all this end and how will it end. A family history of bedridden siblings haunts me. Each one of my mothers siblings have had painful prolonged suffering. What did they do to deserve it I cannot understand. My fathers siblings didn't suffer too much but he did. His end was painful but certain. My mothers suffering is not in the same category. It's neither here nor there. We could take her home. We can make her sit or walk. We can do all that but only with the aid of an oxygen mask. We are not medical professionals,we have zero nursing backgrounds so what do we do. How much care can we give,will we give her a decent life or one of a mere existence. Questions a plenty but no answers in sight. And so we wait and watch and suffer with her....until God in his heaven decides what to do

The Lord provides

Count your blessing name the one by one and it will surprise you what the Lord has done. Lines from a favourite old hymn which we sang as kids. Today I list my blessings because without the guidance of God and his goodness nothing in life is possible. It's not about large miracles that will get one a sainthood. It's the small everyday things that are miracles at work 

I worried about the night,I worried about my mom having a nigh emergency,the Lord worked his miracle,the night emergency made sure we didn't have to battle peak time traffic,the ambulance could get it us in time

I worried about the doc on duty not being upto date on my mother,I worried that her regular doctor wouldn't be informed on time. The Lord guided me to call her,long ago she volunteered her mobile number so I could call her. Long ago my father stumbled on this doctor which has led to this forty year long association. I see in it the hand of God 

I worried that I would have to handle it all alone,I worried I would be too tired to keep the pace being older than the crisis last time. The Lord sent my sisters without ado,my calm elder sister and my hyper middle sister. The Lord guided us to see strength in each other and to use it for my mothers well being. 

I worried that I couldn't sleep and that time in a hospital room crawls,that the night would stretch and my tensions rise...the Lord provided me with technology. I can pour out my thought,I can read a book without light,I can see the night through and keep my mind occupied. Near provided

Through every emotional battle I have had a husband who stood like a rock behind me. He is the rational being to my emotional one. He is the one who can take decisions when I go to pieces. He balances me...the Lord found him,against all odds...different culture,different religions but minds that move to a beat...could I ask for more?

I dread spending nights in hospital with a sick mother...the Lord provides...the hospital gave me a nurse to help me out to keep a tab on my mum...we had a conversation...I tell her I have lived with my mother all my life,I tell her how difficult it is to keep distance and to be detached....she tells me I am lucky to have had so much time with my mother,she tells me she lived in a hostel from a very young age and that she didn't get a chance to spend as much time as I had....she is young,has a sister with a same name as me...she asks if she can read what I write....we have things in perspective,I enjoyed our little interaction...the Lord provides 

I am learning slowly but surely that in the best of times and in the worst of times,it's important to count our blessing and name them one by one....I wonder what make that person write the hymn. Did he know it would bring comfort to people in distress....he probably wrote it from some perspective of his time....but it comes to me as clear as a bell...the Lord provides.

Mother of mine

Not being a mother myself I can't understand mothers love for her children. Do they'd always know what they need. Will they always put their children's needs before their own. Will they always anticipate their children's every move. Will no sacrifice be too large or too small where they are concerned. I don't know hoe it happens but my mother lying in a hospital bed fighting for every breath is still concerned about her children. We a all adults,none of us is even young,but for her we come first no matter what. She tells me I should catch some sleep,she thinks I need my rest. How can I explain that her every heartbeat keeps me on tenterhooks and that I cannot sleep. I am shivering in this cold room air conditioning on high and fan at speed. She notices that through he haze of suffering and asks me to turn off the airconditioning she would rather feel hot than allow a child of her s to be uncomfortable. I cringe when I realise that her first thoughts are of her children. She has lived her life sacrificing all for us. Weathered the worst storms for us. Given us the best of everything. Cooking us our favourite food even at 85. Holding our hands through ever up and down of life. I watch her through the night miserable in her suffering,helpless as I can ever be. Nothing I can do or say will ever amount to even a bit of what she has done for me....how will I ever do anything to match what she has done for me. If there is one wish I have today's it would be to take away her suffering. I would like to take her home,minus the machines. I would like to take care of her every need,to cook her the favourites she taught me. To make her comfortable ,to surround her with love. But I can do none of this. I simply have to wait ....pray....and hope.