Life

It was the 60s probably the time between innocence and total madness. School education was semi British and the value systems were all Christian. One lesson however that struck me most was the one on balanced diets. Not sure if it was part of a biology class but I still remember the lovely pictures of  meats, fruit and veg. We learnt about the body needing fats, sugar, minerals, carbohydrates and protein. Not for us the vegetarian or vegan option. Not for us the low fat, low carb diets. No diets at all . It was all about what your body needs, it was about building strong bodies and strong minds. No food was bad it was all about moderation. We played for hours in blazing summer heat burnt to berries by the end of the day. Our parents never worried about sun strokes, or of us being burnt by the sun. Nobody bothered too much it was more about getting the right amount of exercise without the pressure of having to get it. We had fun and that was it. Some of us were fat, some seriously skinny. We hadn't heard of obesity or anorexia. We were just the way we were. Some forty years later everything changed. Suddenly we had body types, we heard that one had to be slim, we heard about having straight hair, about the all important gym membership. We needed weight training to strengthen our bodies. We stoped writing letters, we had email. Suddenly all our conversations were about the weight we've gained, how hard it was to get rid of it. How exercise is such a chore but had to be done. The pressure was building. All of a sudden my coconut oil was bad for me, red ,eat was bad for me, vegetarian was the way to go, the it became vegan. People look aghast when I tucked into my meat with relish. They were shocked when I said I hated vegetables and refused to become a rabbit. The pitying looks increased as I got rounder. No gym membership but I did redeem myself with some yoga.  Why did everyone look surprised when I did all the housework myself, cooked food at home, didn't care much for eating out.  No one talked about my lack of aches and pains or about the fact that I didn't moan about feeling tired all the time. I guess no one understands that we were brought up to get on with life. Whining in our time was disgraceful behaviour. So the world has changed and I have too. I eat meat once or twice a week and eat fish instead. Most people believe I have made lifestyle changes and am following a diet. Not at all. The fact is that I prefer sea food to meat. The fact is my 85 year old mother is a brilliant cook and the home food is so good I don't feel the need to eat out. The world did change and so did people and I did too but I decided long ago that the best way to live was to live on my terms. The best I could do was to be myself and not aspire to be what the world wants me to be. I don't need to be wished for women's day because it makes no difference to my life. I respect myself and I don't need a day to define me. Yes I would have loved to skydive I may have wanted to skate or something so out of reach but we all have our wish lists don't we.but for now happiness is a bowl of good food.

December

The vey last month of the year and this city gets nervous. A lot of people believe that madras is doomed in December thanks to various natural calamities that have visited this city in December. Many years ago a tsunami swept this city away with devastating results. None of us had seen anything of the kind before but life settled back for those of us not affected and we forgot all about it. Then last year a flood hit us. Yes it rained but not the kind of rain that we expected. The city drowned slowly and infrastructure collapsed.  People helped each other and somehow we got through the worst. This year we braced ourselves for another flood but the rains never came. Instead a leading politician died and as we waited for the violence and damage to start, it all got eerily quiet. No disturbance of any kind was reported and to the surprise of everyone, the city conducted a funeral with clock work precision. Considering how popular she was it was a huge relief and a testament to the fact that the people of this state can show the rest of India a few lessons in dignity and restraint . We moved on and waited . A few days later a cyclone was announced. Now we were prepared for floods and cyclones have a way of bypassing our city for other shores so we didn't take it too seriously . As it started raining we were still bracing for floods, but the cyclone had other ideas. In what was yet another first after many years, the city was torn apart for a day of ferocious winds which left trees dancing and bending till they broke into many pieces. Large trees that have been part of our growing years were all felled with the fury of nature. At the end of it all the city resembled a forest. Not a single street was spared. Roads were blocked with fallen trees and it is still being cleared. The city was stripped of its famous green cover and no one had seen it coming.

Personally it was also a month of great sadness with the death of a well loved uncle who took the trouble to visit us a month ago and then dropped dead which no one had expected him to do. It was also a time when old people in the family suffered strokes and suffered silently. When friends lost parents to old age. When pop icons of our youth passed a way and we suddenly felt our age and had to face the eroding of our youth and our music. And like the sadness of another year  gone by a little bit of our lives as we know it is lost. We have our memories and we need to live with those as the year slowly winds down to a close.

Christmas as always is a good time, a time to meet old friends, and to have our regular Christmas dinner. Exhausted by the string of visitors I decided to out source cooking to the mother and sister and did all the baking instead . Midnight service as usual was a grand one with a lovely message though the night turned warm.

And as the sun set on yet another year I look back with mixed feelings. It was the year my mother turned 85, it was also the year when we thought we had lost her. It was a year when she probably realised that so many people loved her enough to make time to be with her. It was also a year when cousins and uncles were lost forever despite being too young to die. But as the year ends I count the many blessings we've had and look forward to new ones in the new year.

November

It's almost the last month of 2016 and one is sure the year has passed by rather quickly. There wre many visitors in November . One long lost cousin and his wife were the most welcome visitors. With the husband on a constant travel plan life can get rather dull in this house, hence all visitors are welcome . Of course it also is an opportunity to go out and loaf which is what I love to do. Visits to the typical touristy spots of the city can give one a new perspective on life.

This was also the month of the one and only Hindu festival we celebrate which is Diwali but as no one was in a middle to celebrate what with all the illnesses and tensions of the pervious months we decided that this was a soundless Diwali. It was also the husbands birthday which always meant a party and even though he wasn't keen, the friends decided to cheer him up and landed up . It turned out to be a fun evening with gifts, food and plenty of conversations.

November on the whole turned out to be not a bad month at all. The weather stayed cool and pleasant even though there was no rain...if not using the fan is any indication, then it was a good month.

October

September passed quietly into October. I didn't feel the difference except that I was alone again with my mother having to shoulder all responsibility alone. Silver lining was that one sister was here for two weeks while the husband was off looking after his mother. Those two weeks were calm and relaxing. Just the freedom of knowing that I could go out without fretting or watching the clock, worrying if my mother would be fine, that is a great feeling when one is always tied down to the house. But two weeks pass quickly. I am still hankering after a long drive to the beach, or that weekend getaway that doesn't look like it will happen in this life. One week passes quickly enough. Ofcourse I've made the trip to visit the mother in law in her home and that's not too bad considering there are lots of people around to help and one is not required to do anything. It also felt great after ages to travel on my own to take my time wandering around the airport, to people watch. To idle away time on a bus watching the city pass by. I chose to travel during a festival and it's interesting to see how diverse India is and how the same festival has unique rituals in each city and town. Caught in a traffic jam caused but the milling crowds, I sat back and enjoyed the ride. I was in no hurry ! I wasn't required to be with anyone or any place at any given time so I enjoyed the ride while my fellow passengers who were all trying to get back home, fretted and fumed at the delays. Hyderabad is a city so easily recognisable by its religions. We pass through Muslim areas and the roads are lined with restaurants announcing all manner of biryanis and kebabs. It makes me want to jump off the bus and get a taste of this authentic Muslim cuisine. Then the city gives way to temples and Hindu festivals takes over. There are millions of people thronging temples, cows roam freely or are being fed in temples. Bright flowers in shades of saffron and  vermillion are piled up in abundance . I fall for them and end up decorating the front door with them. It all looks so beautiful.

Back home things have settled down to a not so bad routine. Towards the end of the month the husband is back and despite the somber mood we do have our first party of the season which turns out to be lots of fun, because our neighbours joined us with their dogs who managed to make the whole evening so much better. And thus ends October and it wasn't so bad .

September

September 2016 brought home the advantages of the joint family system. I've never been part of this system so can't comment on the merits or demerit of it. Suffice to say that when one has an ill person in the house who needs constant care, it makes a great difference if family members are around, the more the better.

 We had it all down to a system. Two of us took turns at cooking for everyone while one of us sat vigil with the mother. When meals were don't the cooks took to entertaining the mother. A whole month of non stop help can make one get used to it. The mothers recovery was remarkable simply because of the psychological advantages of having all the family around.

Even when the mother in law fell ill and the husband has to run off to attend to his mother,I was relaxed. The sisters provided much needed conversations to help with any lingering sense of stress. Not a month I want to repeat but was I grateful for all the help. Needless to say it's not a happy time when two parents are unwell and they live in different cities.

In our childhood being grounded was a form of punishment but today I've come full circle and in my twilight years I am being grounded by none other than my mother. I grew up in a pre smartphone era and my mom couldn't get hold of me once I left the house. Such freedom is unheard of in these the technological times when parents can track kids in every corner of the globe. Thank god my mother has never managed to get her head around the use of a smartphone and that is the biggest advantage. 

Ever since her stay at a hospital my mother had developed a fear of being alone, understandable in the circumstances too but for her, staying within the four walls of her home is not big deal. Infact,going out is stressful. Me on the other hand needs to go out at least once a day. Over the years I have learnt to outsmart my mother but as we got older together it's not easy to do the things one did in ones youth. Now I worry about her if I am gone too long. I return at exactly the time I've promised to be back and I curtail a lot of my outings. But to be confined to the house day in and day out with no social interaction can drive me crazy, so I start by going to the terrace to water my plants. This takes all of fifteen minutes , but I choose to have a cup of tea with the neighbour, do a spot of weeding, and stretch it to thirty minutes. My next step is to go vegetable shopping or shop for fish. My mother is a great believer in a bargain and fish prices are one thing we all agree on. If fish is going as less expensive as compared to the previous month then we have to stock up. Being gone for an hour or so if it's in the interests of buying fish, is fine by her but if it's a walk that I want to be off to then it's a strict no no. However having said that ,she does get bored of my company soon enough and it's simply a matter of time when I will be able to disappear for longer stretches. Until then I hibernate.

The ant chain

They form a thin line up and down,stoping on the way to chat with friends,give them news or happenings in another part of the line. I watch them go up and down in perfect harmony,no sign of a quarrel or even a cold shoulder. These are house ants. I find them snaking their way to a tin of rice. I decide to get rid of them. While I admire their tenacity and their sense of community and their alleged love of order and friendship,I do not necessarily welcome them into a tin of rice. Let's be very clear,the rice is mine and so is the kitchen and unprovoked intrusions will result in consequences. I fill a bowl with water and leave the tin in it. Most often than not a few brave ones will venture out and drown,then the tragedy will be transmitted fast up the chain and new strategies will be formulated. Ah predictable ones,that's exactly what they did. After the drowning of a few,some came out and circled the rim of the tin. It's a long climb from the bottom of the tin to the rim but they did it. Then when they realised there was no way to escape they went back and the entire community ,which till then was browsing among the grains,and after some kind of clarion call,all the ants got into a huddle. Suddenly there is a thick red ribbon of ants all clustered together and wondering what to do. I have to change track too. Should I put the tin on a hot stove and roast them?. Or should I wait patiently till they tire of hanging on the edge and decide to commit suicide. I've decided on patience,simply because roasting them would mean roasting the rice too and that wouldn't do me much good,so I wait patiently for all of them to kill themselves. As a veteran of many an ant war,I do believe I can outsmart them all the time.

Moods and doubts

The ordeal of the hospital looks like it's nearing an end and finally we are discharged and can bring the mother home. What perils await us is yet to be seen. Should we take her home in a stretcher or in a car. Without the aid of a lift who will carry her up the stairs....how will we keep her comfortable without the aid of a reclining bed....questions questions and hundreds of doubts....will we know what to do will we hold it all together...doubts like little serpents cream around the mind,digging little holes in my brains....the tower of strength is the husband...standing in the wings,he will jump to find solutions and good ones at that....soon her has found a boy young and strong enough to carry my mother up the stairs.... He gets my mother into the car and home....the first of the psychological battles is won...

There is something about being in ones own bed that can make all the difference.. I have cleaned the room to an inch of its life and the mother is soon settled in and made comfortable. The calm and collected doctor has given us all the pressure points to look out for. Mood swings,depression,anger,euphoria the works. She tells us we need to care for her ourselves,no hired help she says and I agree.

It's three days now and while the mother is motivated enough to do her exercises and makes attempts to work and keep her limbs in working condition,she is quick to worry,can get frustrated fast and agitation is something I would like to keep at bay. 

Furious she is when her alarm doesn't go off,she isn't happy with my rationing of her salt. Strict orders of three grams of salt (the amount allowed by the doctor) haunt me and my meals have become so salt less that they tend to loose their flavour....cooking for the entire family then is funny. More often than not I have forgotten to season with salt and when members of the family reach for pickles it strikes me that I ve forgotten the salt. Strangely I don't miss it too much thought the mother grumbles constantly. I am turning into a food nazi but I have been so frightened it's expected to err on the side of caution.

Meanwhile we take turns to keep watch over our precious cargo and spend sleepless nights and sleep filled days and count our blessings and do the best we can.

Every morning is a challenge and every night so far,one of thanksgiving.

August...come she must

August,half way through the year and not a happy month at all. The first week is a mad rush to get the mother tested and checked for all parameters and I heave a sigh of relief when it's an all clear. The. It's time to go for a wedding out of town. Travelling after eight months can be a daunting task but it's managed and it's good to meet the rest of the family and attend all the functions associated with weddings. Sometimes stressful but not all bad,we are so busy that one doesn't realise how ten days pass. Back home everything seems under control and life continues as usual. I meet my friends at a wedding and we all have a good time but the fun ends right there.

It's a normal day and everything goes as routine until midnight. The mother develops breathing problems and we rush her to a hospital and into the intensive care unit. From there onwards it's a nightmare . Everything swirling out of control. No end in sight,the mothers spirits sagging and the rest of us in a state of anxiety and despair. It's slow progress,with everyday being a new challenge. The doctors speak in different voices. One is the optimist ,she is always looking at the bright side and insists that progress is good. The junior doctors don't say much but the specialist doesn't give us much hope. Going home seems like a distant dream,recovery seems like a distant dream,quality of life seems like a thing of the past.

We end August awake in a hospital room,watching over the mother,the silence of the night broken only by the beep of machines recording pulse rates and breath levels.

As September is already on us,the vigil continues and only time will tell what the new month holds for us.

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.

From despair to hope

Yesterday I felt like Hannah in the bible. There I was in a hospital room having a raging battle with God. First was pleading,begging,which then slowly turns to anger,to despair. What happens when one is prisoner of ones memories. A first traumatic experience of seeing life ebb away was enough to scar me for life. Much as I deny its existence the memories pop up like bad pennies. More so when a medical crisis occurs involving an old parent. The need a blood test they say and try to draw blood. Twenty minutes later there is no progress....the last time this happened it was the end. This time I am furious with God. Why oh why I ask do you test someone so much. What did my mother do to deserve to go through this trauma. Why do some people live medical emergency free lives and drop dead without much ado ? Questions for which I have no answers. I pray for twenty minutes and nothing happens. Few hours later the doctor arrives. She as usual is well groomed,ready smile on her face,twinkling eyes and a positive attitude. She is pretty much half the solution. She always focuses on the positives while delivering not so good news in a way that doesn't get one all het up. She tells my mother she is on the mend however slowly,tells her she should be able to go home soon. Gets a lot of stuff organised the moment my mothe complains of pain and leaves the room with good cheer behind. My mother comes to life again. Then her cousin decides to visit. A cousin who have been in and out of hospital,who is so ill that I wouldn't recommend she travelled as far as she did to meet my mother. Her husband all of ninety and suffering dementia also comes along. The laught and the warmth they radiate is so uplifting. She is such a source of strength. Nothing worries her,she can laugh at her lack of hearing. She tells my mother it's a huge joke that they meet despite my mother saying they may never meet again. She tells my mother that she is going to be fine,sharing similar experiences that she has survived. As both ladies are deaf to a degree,her son and I do all the transcriptions. Her son has to deal with both parents single handed and he is calm and patient. I watch and marvel at their attitude. What am I complaining about. Here I am with enough infrastructure on hand so why a, I raging with God. They visit ends and my mother and I have a good gossip session . She talks nineteen to the dozen and I am happy to go along. She tells me how frightened she was and we share our fears. At the end of the day I am far more cheerful than when I started,having had a bath,a good sleep and seeing my mother in better spirits. It's a far more humble person talking to God now,someone who has learnt that as a human it's ok to argue with God,it's ok to despai but in the end there is a quiet confidence that the good lord above has enough ways to deal with my pain,enough ways to teach me things I don't understand and in the process make me a better person