Report of 05 Feb 2012
Hello from my living room!
And here I can see my clothes drying on the balcony. I had to throw a bunch of food today - spoilt, to my great regret, and thus I had to waste it, another regret - and the dishes are drying in the sun as well. I have some kind of weird belief that the sun might nuke lingering fungus.
The B has been good. BALM organised a seminar by an eminent psychologist from Vellore; he spoke on "Surviving natural disasters like the tsunami." It was nice. One of our patients, Ms. T, was in the audience as well, and when we rapidly ran out of chairs, she stood to make hers available to someone. We did not want that - our patients are, indeed, our honored guests - and we urged her to sit and listen. She is one of a handful of our patients who speaks English, and if she could benefit from the seminar, why on earth not. The speaker called for volunteers at one point, and as I debated in the non-responsive silence whether to go on stage or not, I felt a pen poke me in the back: Ms. Vandana. So I toodled up on stage (I would do almost anything for her and Vaish), and participated in the exercise. I was wearing a sari, and it takes a bit of adjusting to negotiate stairs, etc., but I managed; it was my mother's sari, and a personal favorite - with black dots on a white background, dots patterning flowers on the border and big red dots in the center of the flowers. I love the black and white and red combination, and my mother had excellent taste in clothes, so I wear her saris with much nostalgia and joy. As a co-worker remarked on the rarity of my wearing a sari, I told her one must occasionally shock the populace. She laughed out loud and asked if my husband liked my wearing saris; I answered that my husband was pretty pleased with whatever I wore, engineer (and thus, non-fashion-maven) that he is. Sometimes, I tell Scott that he must talk about how blobby my gut is, etc., as some spouses do, and he is very non-committal in his replies.
We have had a string of deaths at the B due to pneumonia, and are on the quest for the pneumonia vaccine. Vaish has sent a long, philosophical reply to my question on sourcing the vaccine, and I am yet to read all of it. The health care workers are upset about some of their favorite patients passing away and there you have it - another ringing endorsement of the hcws' passion and commitment. We have debriefed some of them. One of the patients had HIV, and died peacefully. She was a tiny person, older, and did not speak any language we understood. However, I was always very happy that she was safe, and sheltered, and had 3 meals to eat, and clothes to wear, and medication to take. That she died surrounded by those who cared deeply for her, instead of alone and in pain and neglected on the streets, is a big, big blessing for me. She would cry on occasion, with none of us able to figure out why, but mostly, she toodled about her daily life and her routine, tended by our able staff.
I was in Bangalore yesterday, to participate in Rose-Hulman's recruitment initiative there. At first, I was not going to attend, but Jim Goecker, who had come, is a good guy and one of the first people I met at Rose. He had shown me around campus and answered all my questions, especially addressing the "We cannot afford this school" concerns. His daughter, Liesl, is working in Mumbai currently and she was there as well. She was a delight, and we gabbed away about many things. The event was not well-advertised, so attendance was very thin, and this bothered the wealthy parents who had put it together. There is a big dichotomy in India, with vast swathes of poor, and then several folks who can afford to send their children to Rose-Hulman. A taxi was placed at Jim's service, and he was not leaving until later, so the organisers asked me to get dropped at the airport; this was good and off I went. The taxi driver, Mr. P, has a disabled daughter and we spoke of her, and life, and the distinct possibility of getting her some help and training. I tell you, this is the joy of working in the NGO world: that we can hopefully connect those with desperate needs, with those grand hearts that can try to satisfy them.
In Bangalore, my sister-in-law, Susan, and her kids, Sudhir and Sanjana, took me out for lunch at a very nice restaurant that serves non-Indian food. I had steak and the meal was spectacular. We then walked to a famous ice cream shop, The Corner House, for dessert. The kids walked ahead, and Susan and I came behind, all gabbing away; it was a magnificent afternoon, full of the reassurance that Manu's family is well and happy. When he died, it was traumatic for all of us, and I am much relieved that his family is okay. Susan is very close to us, and the kids have cousins only on their Dad's side, so we see them a fair amount - a treat for me. There was a lot of eating and talking and laughing, and then Sudhir drove us to the venue of RH's event, the Oberoi, a ritzy hotel where he used to work. Several people there recognised him and I got extremely good treatment because of him.
Our neighbor had been ill with a respiratory infection, and I saw her and treated her. She wandered up 2 days later with some very expensive and rich sweets, to thank me. There was no need for that. The sweets have promptly gone to our friendly autorickshaw driver, Mr. E, who waited at the airport last night for me to get in. Naren and I had planned - when I booked the tix - for him to get me, but he's off covering an event in Vellore. The city is not safe at night for young women travelling alone - indeed, which city is? - and I had plotted to save myself from all manner of grievous harm. Mr. E to the rescue! So he got the tin of rasagollas for his family, and Naren and I saved our waistlines. This is a very nice part of my life: just as quickly as rich treats get to us, they go to those who would otherwise never taste them. Neelima's mother's gift of cookies is still being spoken of at the B.
I saw "Haywire," solely for the powerful cast and the pulse-increasing Mr. Fassbender. It was dreadful. Let's put it this way: I used to be a Mr. Fassbender fan.
Scott and I skype'd this morning and that was nice. Navin was to join, I think he forgot.
It's a good life, and a nice profession.
"Three out of four doctors recommend another doctor." - Graffito
Unw -
R
And here I can see my clothes drying on the balcony. I had to throw a bunch of food today - spoilt, to my great regret, and thus I had to waste it, another regret - and the dishes are drying in the sun as well. I have some kind of weird belief that the sun might nuke lingering fungus.
The B has been good. BALM organised a seminar by an eminent psychologist from Vellore; he spoke on "Surviving natural disasters like the tsunami." It was nice. One of our patients, Ms. T, was in the audience as well, and when we rapidly ran out of chairs, she stood to make hers available to someone. We did not want that - our patients are, indeed, our honored guests - and we urged her to sit and listen. She is one of a handful of our patients who speaks English, and if she could benefit from the seminar, why on earth not. The speaker called for volunteers at one point, and as I debated in the non-responsive silence whether to go on stage or not, I felt a pen poke me in the back: Ms. Vandana. So I toodled up on stage (I would do almost anything for her and Vaish), and participated in the exercise. I was wearing a sari, and it takes a bit of adjusting to negotiate stairs, etc., but I managed; it was my mother's sari, and a personal favorite - with black dots on a white background, dots patterning flowers on the border and big red dots in the center of the flowers. I love the black and white and red combination, and my mother had excellent taste in clothes, so I wear her saris with much nostalgia and joy. As a co-worker remarked on the rarity of my wearing a sari, I told her one must occasionally shock the populace. She laughed out loud and asked if my husband liked my wearing saris; I answered that my husband was pretty pleased with whatever I wore, engineer (and thus, non-fashion-maven) that he is. Sometimes, I tell Scott that he must talk about how blobby my gut is, etc., as some spouses do, and he is very non-committal in his replies.
We have had a string of deaths at the B due to pneumonia, and are on the quest for the pneumonia vaccine. Vaish has sent a long, philosophical reply to my question on sourcing the vaccine, and I am yet to read all of it. The health care workers are upset about some of their favorite patients passing away and there you have it - another ringing endorsement of the hcws' passion and commitment. We have debriefed some of them. One of the patients had HIV, and died peacefully. She was a tiny person, older, and did not speak any language we understood. However, I was always very happy that she was safe, and sheltered, and had 3 meals to eat, and clothes to wear, and medication to take. That she died surrounded by those who cared deeply for her, instead of alone and in pain and neglected on the streets, is a big, big blessing for me. She would cry on occasion, with none of us able to figure out why, but mostly, she toodled about her daily life and her routine, tended by our able staff.
I was in Bangalore yesterday, to participate in Rose-Hulman's recruitment initiative there. At first, I was not going to attend, but Jim Goecker, who had come, is a good guy and one of the first people I met at Rose. He had shown me around campus and answered all my questions, especially addressing the "We cannot afford this school" concerns. His daughter, Liesl, is working in Mumbai currently and she was there as well. She was a delight, and we gabbed away about many things. The event was not well-advertised, so attendance was very thin, and this bothered the wealthy parents who had put it together. There is a big dichotomy in India, with vast swathes of poor, and then several folks who can afford to send their children to Rose-Hulman. A taxi was placed at Jim's service, and he was not leaving until later, so the organisers asked me to get dropped at the airport; this was good and off I went. The taxi driver, Mr. P, has a disabled daughter and we spoke of her, and life, and the distinct possibility of getting her some help and training. I tell you, this is the joy of working in the NGO world: that we can hopefully connect those with desperate needs, with those grand hearts that can try to satisfy them.
In Bangalore, my sister-in-law, Susan, and her kids, Sudhir and Sanjana, took me out for lunch at a very nice restaurant that serves non-Indian food. I had steak and the meal was spectacular. We then walked to a famous ice cream shop, The Corner House, for dessert. The kids walked ahead, and Susan and I came behind, all gabbing away; it was a magnificent afternoon, full of the reassurance that Manu's family is well and happy. When he died, it was traumatic for all of us, and I am much relieved that his family is okay. Susan is very close to us, and the kids have cousins only on their Dad's side, so we see them a fair amount - a treat for me. There was a lot of eating and talking and laughing, and then Sudhir drove us to the venue of RH's event, the Oberoi, a ritzy hotel where he used to work. Several people there recognised him and I got extremely good treatment because of him.
Our neighbor had been ill with a respiratory infection, and I saw her and treated her. She wandered up 2 days later with some very expensive and rich sweets, to thank me. There was no need for that. The sweets have promptly gone to our friendly autorickshaw driver, Mr. E, who waited at the airport last night for me to get in. Naren and I had planned - when I booked the tix - for him to get me, but he's off covering an event in Vellore. The city is not safe at night for young women travelling alone - indeed, which city is? - and I had plotted to save myself from all manner of grievous harm. Mr. E to the rescue! So he got the tin of rasagollas for his family, and Naren and I saved our waistlines. This is a very nice part of my life: just as quickly as rich treats get to us, they go to those who would otherwise never taste them. Neelima's mother's gift of cookies is still being spoken of at the B.
I saw "Haywire," solely for the powerful cast and the pulse-increasing Mr. Fassbender. It was dreadful. Let's put it this way: I used to be a Mr. Fassbender fan.
Scott and I skype'd this morning and that was nice. Navin was to join, I think he forgot.
It's a good life, and a nice profession.
"Three out of four doctors recommend another doctor." - Graffito
Unw -
R
posted by Renu Weiss at
4:59 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home