Lapses of lingy…

Today was D(ecision)-day in hospital. The bleeding commenced all over again yesterday, chunks of it. So, the doc spelt out two options, because as he said my dad’s progress up to now has been like one-day cricket — one day it’s good, one day it’s terrible.

Option A: An injection (which costs Rs 1, 15,000 a peice) and has no garuantees. It could result in side effects like decrease in immunity, rise in BP, revisiting of any past diseases like TB etc and it gets worse – lymphoma, a type of cancer. The chances of it working are less than 50 per cent, and one may not suffice, which means that this treatment could go on for weeks. Even if it does work in calming the inflammation, dad would still have to watch what he eats (and he loves food) and take medication forever.

Option B: Surgery. They remove the large intestine, create a small opening on the right side of the tummy, and  attach the end of the small intestine to this opening. On the outside, they attach a pouch, which one has to physically empty as and when it fills up (with faeces). Since there’s no valve controlling it (unlike the in those of us who still have a rectum), it could fill up anytime. But the good news is that he can eat anything and needs no further medication because without the colon, there’s no colitis to medicate. According to Sherry’s colleague who has had this this operation in the US, she can even go swimming

So, we opted for the surgery post a lot of discussion within the family. My poor dad seemed more relieved after this plan of action was taken. He said: “I just want this suffering to end’. All the ladies in the family think he is an ‘adaptable person unlike the other men’ in the family, so he will take to this arrangement well.

The doctor was honest in spelling out both options, however he admitted to feeling a sense of defeat. This is because surgery is always the last option when nothing else works. And he is not a surgeon. He’s a gastroentrologist. I felt a tinge of empathy for him and wanted to tell him that even though the treatment did not work, he was an kind and approachable person, who who tried his very best.

In the meantime, we needed B +ve blood and when they ran out at the blood bank, T-Ernesto put an ad on Cable TV. Within five minutes we received two phonecalls and two donors. One of them came immediately and I was very curious as to know why people who are not related to the patient, would put aside time for someone they do not know. People who are busy and have things to do. I asked the first donor and all he said was that he does it regularly. I got my blood group checked too and it turned out to be, voila, B +ve.

A girl called Karen also turned up to (through Fathu), and my mother figured out who she was, 6 degrees and all. Karen is getting married to this chap I know from Mumbai, a friend of a friend who I vaguely know too. My family was once contemplating hooking me up with him. Well, I can vouch that he’s one lucky chap!

Once I return to Mumbai, I shall start regularly donating too, at least once in six months.

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Just stumbled upon this e-mail sent to me by my dad many eons ago. He’s a typical Virgo: very meticulous.

Also, he is full of ideas and always has a plan of action. And a contingency plan. And where there’s pop, there’s sure to be a notepad close at hand (he asked me to pick one up for his hospital stint).

Hi love,

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‘Lapse of lingy’ is a phrase used by Amy, the youngest gal in the March family in Little Women. She used it to refer to a pronounciation mistake made by her. The phrase stuck in my head after I read the novel back in Class VI.

My new profile pic was taken by Ankur. We discovered that shooting only half the face gives a slimming effect!

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In the last few days, some folks have donated blood, some have offered me a ride, some have offered money.

Today an ex-colleague called up to enquire about pop’s progress. This woman is a finance writer and knows her mutual funds from her stocks, et al. This gal besides being supportive, offered to help me with any mediclaim hiccups. Thank goodness for mediclaim. The bills keep mounting everyday and I really hope all those who can afford it, get a policy.

But about those who can’t afford it? We opted for a separate room, which is airy, spacious, spotlessly clean (the entire hospital is, in fact), has a television set (that no one ever watches), an attached bathroom (a useful feature) and a guest bed. There’s no privacy in the general ward, even though it is still halfway decent. I cannot even begin to imagine what it must be like to be ill and placed in the general ward of a govenment hospital, especially if you are ill for a long period of time.

On a different note, pop once told my mum: “Even if someone gives me Rs 1 lakh (or more) I shall never give up Lassie (the pom).”  

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The last time I went shopping for fish in Mumbai was…NEVER. Today I had no choice –  after all we have to eat. The experience wasn’t too bad. I felt inwardly thrilled during my shopping expedition, partly because the fishmarket reminded me of the one back in Muscat — spacious and sprawled over a large plot of land with adequate space for each vendor. Not conjested or stinky like the ones in Mumbai.

BTW my konkani is improving.

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These days I’m hooked onto Judging Amy, a wonderful drama series on the Hallmark channel.

Amy is judge at a local juvenile court in Connecticut, unlike her Harvard mates who are all high flying lawyers with private firms. Her mother is a social worker who’s job is to place kids from difficult backgrounds (or non-existent ones) in foster care.

What interests me is not the fact that these women are merely doing something they believe in (the bottom-line and personal ambition have no charm), but the fact that these two women use a mix of strategy, intution, empathy and pragmatism to judge and secure what is best for the child in question, without getting sappy about things.

Judge Amy has an investigative streak, not merely listening to what the lawyers tell her, but listening to what is not being said. That’s a useful quality to have in one’s profession and in life.

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My uncle Austen is a rather odd fellow. He’s not related to us by blood but he’s a good friend of my dad’s. He never married and must be 50-something. He’s not retired and has somewhat dedicated his days to helping my pop and anyone else in trouble.

He lives alone in a rented room in a little Goan village. I asked him for his telephone number just in case I needed to contact him. He said he did not remember it by heart. “But papa (my pop) has written it in his phone diary. I shal ask him for it.”

That made me smile. In Mumbai one cannot exist without a cellphone. We use it for different reasons. To flirt, to show gratitude, to ignore someone (by not answering their call), take pictures, listen to music, send e-mail blah blah blah. It’s as if one’s cellphone is a part of one’s anatomy.

If I leave my cellphone at home for even one day, I will receive minimum 10 missed calls, both profssional and social. I told my boss that if I lose my cellphone, my social life will definitely take a battering because most of it happens so spontaneously (except for hot dates of course).

On a different note, I once said something to a friend that was way too harsh. The kind of nasty thing you say when you  are provoked, which lashes out just below the belt. This friend quit talking to me for some other reason though my harsh words were the last straw. So, the other day I apologised — it was wrong of me to seek refuge in her weakness. I did not apologise because I want her to be my friend again but because I took the easy way out. I lost my integrity in that moment of weakness. I almost did it again today, but good sense prevailed. 

Today, we had an unexpected visitor at the hospital — Zubin, a good friend’s brother. It was nice of him to drop in. My dad’s progress is not yet steady, but at least the worst is over. Guess I will be living in Goa for a bit before I see Mumbai again. I miss the simple things — the convenience of jumping into a rickshaw, having a bai do all the washing up, calling the local store for home delivery. On the other hand even though it isn’t the best of times, being near mom, dad and sis, is wonderful and comforting. Here I get good sleep even if it is for half an hour. I hope some day I can enjoy the best of both worlds.

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My alternative lifestyle may not last for too long now…the doc said that pop may not require surgery after all. He was quite satisfied with his progress. If his intestines actually heal themselves it will be nothing short of a miracle.  

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Just received some very good news: the bleeding has finally stopped after many days of having that wretched crimson shade colour our lives.

The doc flashed a wonderful smile when he entered the ward – it was as if he had finally attained nirvana. 

According to my father when he (the doc) smiles, he resembles an angel. But when he is angry his contenance is like that of the devil.

My folks experienced this side of him when he discovered that his instructions were not carried out to perfection by the nurses. I suppose it was the stress of having another human being’s well-being depend on him, talking — the plight of all (or most) doctors.  

He said to my father today: “I will do ANYTHING for you to get well”.

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Made a nice little discovery, whilst doing my dad’s bank work for him. Every bank/Internet password of his has something to do with my mother’s name or date of birth. Yesterday he whispered, in his very fragile state, when she was outside the room that she is a ‘courageous, strong and loving woman’. Now, that’s romantic. Maybe that’s where I get my own romantic notions of happily-ever-after from. I know many single people in Mumbai who are cynical about love, post a string of unsuccessful relationships. Many a times, I’ve heard the phrase ‘If I ever get married…’ alongside a jaded attitude to effect that the only relationships one can look forward to is (in my Class X English teacher’s words) – an ‘affair’.

Er…not me though — I expect Prince Charming to pop out any moment.

Today pop is looked much better and was garralous too. Guess the blood transfusion did the trick, not to mention all the prayers being offered across the globe. The Roman Catholic chapter comprising family and friends are praying to Lord Jesus, while Maya’s network of pranic healers across the seven seas are trying to breathe energy into his system. So also Abhishek’s Internet secular yahoo prayer group. Fingers crossed.

He has severe ulcerative colitis, which means that his large interstine (colon) is messed up. So, either it can heal itself back or else it may have to be removed altogether and replaced with a pouch. Apparently this condition is common amongst white women in the west. Not sure about the female connection, but the reason for the disease being common in the west is because of unhealthy diet habits — lots of non-vegetarian food, junk food and outside food. The latter may have preservatives etc. 

Eating out is a rising trend in the Indian metros too. Long work hours and no time or inclination to cook food at home. And people are eating out a lot. One has to wait for eons for a seat even in a half-way decent restaurant.

So, have lots of fruits and veggies. We need roughage, people.

Be kind to your colon. 

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