Tuesday, August 21, 2012

You are not what happens to you ...

Aug 21, 2012
The last few days have been marked by strange happenings. I've stopped taking my medication for thyroid, after a discussion with a friend. He was saying there is no difference between my father who takes 17 pills a day - to walk straight, go to sleep, breath right, thin his blood and I, who takes one pill to produce enough thyroid hormone to keep me awake, active and free from the feeling of thick flow in my arms, the feeling of blood moving thick, low bp.
I had no answer. I had only accepted this remedy for a while so as to let the moment pass, the moment made of many small moments - a performance at my heels, watchful mentors who were teaching us ballet like clockwork, 43 degrees of sun, my father in hospital who needed my love and attention and probably general loneliness. I let the grueling moment pass, I surrendered, I gave up, knowing I couldn't handle all this just then.
And now, post this conversation I've stopped taking it. The pill isn't going to cure me anyway, why take it? The thyroid pill isn't going to go to my thyroid gland and say, "Hey mister! you're making less of that stuff I really need to be up and about."Its just going to give me my daily fix and let all the dust rot under the carpet.
So that's that.
Walking in a crowded place feels weird, people moving really fast and animated. My fingers feel thick and heavy as my arms pendulum and co-ordinate with my feet. To think I'm a dancer who is tired in climbing a flight of stairs is embarrassing. But that's how it is now. Squeezing a lemon and even typing this text out is tires my wrists.
Days like today, when I went far to fetch a few things, gently through the rush and the maddening crowds, sometimes, like today, make me feel like I did something. Took a step against it all. A sense of accomplishment. Exhausted but happy.

 Spending time feeling these sensations, meditating, Tai Chi and even a conscious slow long walk helps feel more and handle more discomfort. It grows and grows and grows till I can bare it no more.
Something like this was happening in February in Goa.

(drawings from Goa 11-12 Journal)

Saturday, August 11, 2012

Gurunanak Hospital, Bandra, 10th August 2012.


This is what happened yesterday.

I've just woken up feeling tender, as if my skin peeled off me. As if I were just born. The windows and doors have been shut, for noise penetrates and disturbs me. The fan is off, even the mildest breeze feels harsh. I'm cold, sensitive and at lunch I couldn't taste my food.

This morning as I woke up I felt sad. Not recognizably so, just tired, spacey, dazed. There was no real reason, so I pinned it to finding mentions of a former lover with a new woman on a website.  This anger- sadness turned around in me as I tried to sense where it was and what it was. But it was time to get ready and leave for the hospital where my father had undergone a Bronchoscopy yesterday.

On route to the hospital I told my cousin that I'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed. It hadn't been long since I stopped seeing somebody and eventhough I've willingly let him go, knowing we're not the best for each other, him meeting another woman still stirred a reaction in me. I guess its ok, I'm only human. He asked me to play music off my phone and when his compositions played, I felt a denseness consume the car. My eyes were caught in a daze and I'd left the car. No matter what I thought, mental solutions are just that, the feeling of loss was there, evidently. Though somewhere I felt, it wasn't the original cause of the my feeling.
As we inched closer this feeling morphed like a cloud blowing one way in the wind. It morphed but persisted.

We reached the hospital and met father. He was fine, primarily concerned about the Rs. 20,000 he'd spent in one test and one night stay at the hospital. Feeling cheated and accounting for everything that had been paid for, he realised a comb and thermometer had not been claimed.

Somewhere around this time, I remembered what was so rotten about this morning. The second before I woke up, I heard on the phone "he's dead". It was part of a dream. It was about papa. I've had these dreams many times and people said if you dream death, you add time to their life.Well, I just left it at that - a dream.

At this moment, a nurse walked in and said Papa needed to get a shot of Vitamin D but the billing was done, so we had to purchase it from the hospital pharmacy and get it administered at the Casualty Dept.  After expressing concerns on how much it would cost and why and who and how, we proceeded.

Papa and me got into the lift, while my mother and cousin said they'd come after checking all was done. We got to the ground floor of the hospital and sat on the seats next to the lift. The sadness returned, stronger than before and almost paralyzed me. Even as I write this I can feel the tightness in my belly, shooting pain in my wrists and a collapsedness. I remember getting teary and feeling like a camera panned across the room and settled over me with great focus. A stillness.

A family walked down the stairs. Each of them holding at least 2 plastic bags. A boy, of about 8 or 9, a woman who's face my eyes wanted to caress , a older woman and man, who faced away from me.

The woman by whom my eyes felt called seemed beautiful at first. Her rounded eyelids, nose and lips. The way the eyelids shut and opened had a softness and smoothness. Once the whole picture appeared - soft steps, droopy posture I figured she was extremely exhausted , her eyelids were swollen because she'd probably been crying or awake all night. When she turned to away, I felt she'd given up.(just don't know what)

The doors of the lift opened and people walked out, including mother and cousin. They pulled out a stretcher on wheels with a frail main on a breathing machine. Late thirties. She was his wife, the boy was their son, the older woman his mother. We could hear his breath amplified through the ventilator. I thought he was going to be well, because they were taking him out of the hospital.

Meanwhile mother returned with the injection and we proceeded to the Casualty Ward. "Yes, it cheaper to the get the injection here than with Dr. Palrecha, plus we'd have to go to him, he doesn't visit homes and he'd charge us his usual fee".

We passed the Radiology Room, X-ray, CT Scan and Pathology Lab and I felt a lot of "heavy stuff" happens here. I've never liked the thought of screening someone with these waves. When the door of the lab was opened I felt as if some of this stuff was leaking.

The Casualty Ward, a large room, no patients, mostly machines. We waited as  the nurse said someone would do the injection for us. A lot has happened here, my sadness had a place.My eyes circled the rims of channels for curtains that curved around each bed.

Then we heard a stretcher being dragged in, inefficiently so, as they bumped it against the walls of the room. They were in a hurry. On the stretcher was the same man we'd seen outside, with his eyes and mouth wide open. This time we couldn't hear him breathe.

They hurried to move him from the stretcher to the bed opposite my father's. They gathered his lifeless arms and legs together before they lifted him. He didn't seem to register anything. The nurse said over the phone "Dr. Amit, please come down immediately". They spoke frantically
- Where were you taking him? Why? Where is he from?
- He's from your ICU. He's your patient only. We were shifting him to another hospital in the ambulance.
- He's got no pulse.

This hit me. They noticed us and closed the curtains. Where I stood I could still see the monitors. Mother was impatient and wanted our work done so we could leave. I was frozen, a mix of curiosity and concern ran through me. On the monitor I could see 3 flat lines, no movement, no sign of life.

I realised I was clutching my bag very hard. A nurse approached and asked us what we were here for. My mother found a person to be urgent with. I was very angry at this. Somebody was dying next to us, may be was already gone, how could we be concerned about time and a vitamin injection! Every word she said made me angry, also because it asked for my attention against what was happening. Finally, I asked her to keep quiet.

- Does anybody know him?
- Who's he with?
-Where is his family?

I felt I did know him as I stood there. Then she came, his wife, walking very slowly as we were walking out.
I wanted to stay, I felt as if I was part of this. I shared her loss.

I didn't know how. Unexplainable things happen in the middle of these events, underneath the things that happened. They spread like explosions over my body, shinning a strong light, shaking out a sense of knowing. Time waited, moments were longer and there are no words for those moments, and no words, actually there is not much understanding of what was witnessed. In a flash of a second, a life gone. Gone where?
Courage and invisible support to the family.

Happy Birthday Papa

11th August 2012

Wednesday, August 08, 2012

Do we do life? or...

In keeping with the earlier theme of "We are the makers of our fate" here's another question
Do we do life? or does life happen?

Tuesday, August 07, 2012

Celestial Bodies of Arambol.

The celestial bodies of Arambol: Mars, Venus and Jupiter were visible in a straight line east-west, in the night sky of Arambol. Musicians in various kinds of turbans under various influences, material and immaterial were similarly visible and present. Silent and musical.

Friday, August 03, 2012

Thank you Life. (from The 2011-12 Goa Journal)

Thank you Life.
For the sun and the stars
The sky and the earth
and for everything in between.
Thank you Life,
For giving my the oppurtunity to face
the situations I've been running from *
and for the courage that helps me face them.
For the people who challenge me,
press all my buttons, so I Realise in bitesize.
Thank you for all the people who inspire me,
help harvest the fruits to share with more people.
Thank you Life for your nudging guidance
through challenge to see each day is just another day to learn,
to open up, accept things that change, things that don't seem to
and the things I've been holding onto.
Thank you.
* in this very life time!

Wednesday, August 01, 2012

All in a shade of red or blue vs Green-Green Borivali.


More drawings of Papa while we wait at various doctors, tests, at nursing homes, and hospitals. Sometimes, Papa gets very angry and sees red all around. Everything that takes place then is a shade of red. At times everything is coloured in a shade of blue.Oscillating from anger to sadness and sadness to anger. Fever to shivers and shivers to fever. We approach the Doctor hesitantly as he asks for increasing dosages of steroids. Another doctor rules that out and asks for tests of Tuberculosis. Often feeling unheard, helpless, or generally clueless we return home with efforts of making peace and developing a little joy in the family. This to my heart, seems like the best medicine. A medicine our family hasn't seen for years. Old patterns of behaviour emerge all the time. Mum often finds me disorganised, messy or generally lazy. I find myself making for the door unknowingly, out of habit, at these moments, but catch myself and accept the moment's discomfort.Today I did go out for a walk, and much prefer the nameless neighbourhood of suburban Borivali, over the young and racey popularity of Bandra, our former home.