Report of 5 July 2011
Hello from the B!
This is part of the joy of working here. One of the residents, Ms. P, now treated effectively for her mental illness and working in a beauty parlor, came up and mentioned that she was doing well. She had burst into tears at our last meeting, saying she was upset that folks were yelling at her. I had held her hand, told her to kindly ignore yells and gossip, and told her that we were all there for her; one of the other senior staff had apparently extended some special assistance with getting the psychiatrist to see her and she was grateful. She said even her mother would not take such good care of her. Ms. P is a young lady, with her whole life ahead of her, and with the mental illness nipped, I am watching her blossom and succeed. All joys. One of Bollywood's leading actresses had employed her once as a nanny, and Ms. P had flown to Mumbai (generating quite some envy - airplane rides are not de rigeur for our populace); however, she had not enjoyed her new environs or job at all, and came back. We are, indeed, quite happy to have her back. Whatever works best for her.
There is a new permanent occupant of the sick room. Ms. X has been falling often, and we need to make sure bones don't break. Every time she sees me, she speaks of her father, mother and brothers, mentioning them by name; I get near tears when this happens, because there is little chance that she will get to see them. She says she does not want a second marriage. When I looked at her file, I saw that she was rescued from the street, abandoned by her husband. With lack of family nearby or claiming her, and with the lot that befalls many women here, there is likely no attempt on anyone's part at a second marriage; this also saddens me, because Ms. X talks of it with some gusto. Certainly she states that she does not want it, but it sounds like a harking for something a tad happier - a nice husband, children, a life elsewhere. And this saddens me immensely. The Banyan is, consequently, a haven for me: that such ladies are accommodated and taken care of, so that even if their dreams elsewhere are indisputably shattered, we can attempt to rebuild their spirits and bodies.
Ms. X had had what I thought were seizure symptoms and we'd sent her for a neurological evaluation at the teaching hospital nearby; they usually do a very good job with our patients, and for free. I was not content with the subsequent diagnosis of vertigo, so sent a detailed letter to the neuro service, signing it with all my credentials. It looked like alphabet soup after my name. I usually avoid this, unless I want some extra care for our patients; then the MD (USA), AB, works wonders.
Scott and I had a day beyond amazing on Sunday. Neither boy was home, spending the night with friends, and we got up languidly, with no pressure to make breakfast or, indeed, do anything. I got a bunch of chores done, and then Scott, who was reeling under allergy symptoms, got up; we read the paper, had a nice meal, I talked to my father and sister-in-law, and then Scott and I managed to catch up on this and that. Scott is a phenomenally intelligent individual, with a very sharp wit, and a great love of India; all these make him wonderful company. We also got to play a game of euchre, a fun activity b.c. (before children), and it was a nice, relaxed, rejuvenating time. It was quite awesome. We had had giant issues off and on - with raising kids, the troubles that they routinely got into, the intense arguments that would ensue when 3 opinionated people went at it (Scott being the only placid person there) - and the fun in our lives had been a tad buried. Thankfully, buried in a shallow pit from whence it was easy to haul back out. I tell you, the day was more therapeutic than any other course of action we've been through.
My friend, Greg Brown, told me that his shenanigans as a teenager nearly caused his parents to divorce, and I imagine the stress of raising teenagers manifests at odd times. Or "all" times.
So the next morning, as both boys, of course, were their usual selves - milk mug not washed, dawdling over breakfast - I did a little dance and said, "In two months, this won't be our problem any more." In 2 months, both boys will be away at college, Insha Allah. Both boys were surprised, and Navin said, "Amma, you're not supposed to be happy at this." And then, when the jig continued, "I know you're just trying to cover up your grief." I laughed out loud, and when I mentioned the comment to Scott, his laughter matched mine.
We saw "The Green Lantern," and in my new Love Everything mode, enjoyed it. I especially like the supporting players in such movies, and thought Peter Sarsgaard did a great job. Way down in Australia, we caught the first X-Men movie, and old Michael Fassbender came through again. Naren just has to mention his name for my salivary glands to get into overdrive.
Right then, I'd better wind up.
Unw -
R
This is part of the joy of working here. One of the residents, Ms. P, now treated effectively for her mental illness and working in a beauty parlor, came up and mentioned that she was doing well. She had burst into tears at our last meeting, saying she was upset that folks were yelling at her. I had held her hand, told her to kindly ignore yells and gossip, and told her that we were all there for her; one of the other senior staff had apparently extended some special assistance with getting the psychiatrist to see her and she was grateful. She said even her mother would not take such good care of her. Ms. P is a young lady, with her whole life ahead of her, and with the mental illness nipped, I am watching her blossom and succeed. All joys. One of Bollywood's leading actresses had employed her once as a nanny, and Ms. P had flown to Mumbai (generating quite some envy - airplane rides are not de rigeur for our populace); however, she had not enjoyed her new environs or job at all, and came back. We are, indeed, quite happy to have her back. Whatever works best for her.
There is a new permanent occupant of the sick room. Ms. X has been falling often, and we need to make sure bones don't break. Every time she sees me, she speaks of her father, mother and brothers, mentioning them by name; I get near tears when this happens, because there is little chance that she will get to see them. She says she does not want a second marriage. When I looked at her file, I saw that she was rescued from the street, abandoned by her husband. With lack of family nearby or claiming her, and with the lot that befalls many women here, there is likely no attempt on anyone's part at a second marriage; this also saddens me, because Ms. X talks of it with some gusto. Certainly she states that she does not want it, but it sounds like a harking for something a tad happier - a nice husband, children, a life elsewhere. And this saddens me immensely. The Banyan is, consequently, a haven for me: that such ladies are accommodated and taken care of, so that even if their dreams elsewhere are indisputably shattered, we can attempt to rebuild their spirits and bodies.
Ms. X had had what I thought were seizure symptoms and we'd sent her for a neurological evaluation at the teaching hospital nearby; they usually do a very good job with our patients, and for free. I was not content with the subsequent diagnosis of vertigo, so sent a detailed letter to the neuro service, signing it with all my credentials. It looked like alphabet soup after my name. I usually avoid this, unless I want some extra care for our patients; then the MD (USA), AB, works wonders.
Scott and I had a day beyond amazing on Sunday. Neither boy was home, spending the night with friends, and we got up languidly, with no pressure to make breakfast or, indeed, do anything. I got a bunch of chores done, and then Scott, who was reeling under allergy symptoms, got up; we read the paper, had a nice meal, I talked to my father and sister-in-law, and then Scott and I managed to catch up on this and that. Scott is a phenomenally intelligent individual, with a very sharp wit, and a great love of India; all these make him wonderful company. We also got to play a game of euchre, a fun activity b.c. (before children), and it was a nice, relaxed, rejuvenating time. It was quite awesome. We had had giant issues off and on - with raising kids, the troubles that they routinely got into, the intense arguments that would ensue when 3 opinionated people went at it (Scott being the only placid person there) - and the fun in our lives had been a tad buried. Thankfully, buried in a shallow pit from whence it was easy to haul back out. I tell you, the day was more therapeutic than any other course of action we've been through.
My friend, Greg Brown, told me that his shenanigans as a teenager nearly caused his parents to divorce, and I imagine the stress of raising teenagers manifests at odd times. Or "all" times.
So the next morning, as both boys, of course, were their usual selves - milk mug not washed, dawdling over breakfast - I did a little dance and said, "In two months, this won't be our problem any more." In 2 months, both boys will be away at college, Insha Allah. Both boys were surprised, and Navin said, "Amma, you're not supposed to be happy at this." And then, when the jig continued, "I know you're just trying to cover up your grief." I laughed out loud, and when I mentioned the comment to Scott, his laughter matched mine.
We saw "The Green Lantern," and in my new Love Everything mode, enjoyed it. I especially like the supporting players in such movies, and thought Peter Sarsgaard did a great job. Way down in Australia, we caught the first X-Men movie, and old Michael Fassbender came through again. Naren just has to mention his name for my salivary glands to get into overdrive.
Right then, I'd better wind up.
Unw -
R
posted by Renu Weiss at
8:33 PM
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