Report of 19 Feb 2012
Hello from Chennai!
Today's dark clothes laundry day and some heavy jeans and brightly colored cotton towels (I do love bright colors) are hanging on the line. Hardly anyone owns dryers here, as the sun does the job for us.
I am now licensed to practice medicine in India for gain (rather than just charity care), if I want. A friend's mother asked if I was going to try and get a better job; I stated there was no *better* job than the Banyan, and perhaps the goal to find something more *lucrative* ought to set in. However, I can write, and teach, and dance, and practice medicine at the B, and I think a more lucrative job might put paid (an end) to the non-medical activities. On Wednesday, my work-from-home day, I was feeling under the weather and as I plopped on the sofa to take a few extra minutes of rest before I started work, I wondered if I ought to feel guilty. And then the thought vanished as I wrote and answered mail and prepared training material.
Ms. E ran away last week. She stated that it was her son's b'day, and though neither boy has been located, she wanted to buy some sweets (candy). So the social worker wrote her a gate pass, a permission-to-go-outside slip. Ms. E vanished and did not return. In the evening, some of the B staff went to her old haunt near a local market and found her and brought her back. The next day, as I was teaching, I heard yelling and wailing; the staff enlightened me that Ms. E was in isolation and protesting. They mentioned her going to her husband and I said I thought he had died; the psychologist said there was doubt that there ever was a husband and now doubt that there were children. Investigations are on. I know little about psychological conditions and psychiatric illnesses, and perhaps it is not unheard of to imagine/halllucinate a family. I felt sorry, anyway, and am glad Ms. E is with us now; I don't think she was as glad, that day, but perhaps as we treat her illness, she will become more aware of her safe surroundings.
It is wonderful to have family support, isn't it. There have been times when I have felt myself coming unglued, and either Scott or the boys would help glue. Other times, a phone call to extended family - or friends close enough to be family - sets right the cosmos.
One of our senior health care workers is engaged to be married. It is an arranged marriage, and Ms. K explicitly asked for a groom working in Chennai so that she could continue working at the Banyan. Very few young women can really make such demands, but her family listened, the groom works in Chennai, and Ms. K will continue with us. Joy! She is a very nice and competent young woman, and I took some sweets for all to celebrate her happy occasion, the happiness for me being that she will continue with us.
Kovalam goes along well. A city bus (the public transport bus) driver came to be treated, as he had fallen and scraped his elbow. I cleaned the wound and dressed it. He then told me about other conditions in himself that were not completely clear to me and I asked that he bring his old records. He stated he would and told me he'd take leave to come and see me. I said that was unnecessary, and we could (I so hope!) finish his next visit in 15 minutes. I think some of this will involve my deciphering other providers' handwriting and that might or might not be time-consuming; let us see. I rather like treating simple wounds; the body does much of the healing and I like the process. The doctor might get much of the credit for the healing, but what the heck - I suppose that's inevitable.
The older man with the injured toe came to be checked and he is better! He had indeed come for daily dressings. I poked and prodded his foot and there was no pain - halleluia. His blood pressure was also normal and I was relieved, as he'd have to take bp meds otherwise, and those are currently beyond his budget.
Training at Kovalam was non-existent as nobody showed up at starting time, and offered me no explanation. So I walked out and took the bus home. I emailed later, discussing the situation with the person in charge and the higher-ups, and ostensibly, the staff had been occupied with other work; I mentioned the simple courtesy of keeping me informed as well as a myriad other forms of showing respect, and we hope for a class next week. A 30-minute class often lasts 90: there are so many questions and the staff are so eager to learn that I don't feel I can shut down and announce, "Well, that's that, then, I have to leave to beat the traffic." This is one of the joys of teaching: a bright, interested and motivated crew.
I went to Madurai this week to see my Dad. He normally sends the car to pick arriving travellers up, but he has dispensed with the driver as my Dad hardly goes anywhere. I took the bus from the train station and got home in 20 minutes. As I walked down our street to our house, an autorickshaw (a 3-wheeled mini-cab) driver who has known the family since I was a teenager (many, many moons ago) stopped to chat; "Well, Renu, you look pretty dried up. Let's go have coffee and 2 vadais (deep-fried savory lentil donuts - pretty darn tasty, natch, given the 'deep-fried' part)." I declined, but we chatted and then one of my Dad's employees walked up to say my Dad was sitting up waiting for me. He normally starts his day late, having retired, but was up at 0530, he said, as I was coming. We talked and talked, then showered, and ate breakfast and talked some more. I like hearing about his and his brother's days (his brother was the class and college clown) in med school - among other things - and we spent some fine times reminiscing. I went with him to a clinical meeting, and enjoyed it; the topic was treatment for fractures in the spine and it was cool to hear the presentation.
My Dad's cook (the country is overpopulated and it is very common to have cooks and maids and drivers) has had a baby girl, and the child is a fat lump of adorable and joyful. The cook, Ms. A, was sent to work at a very young age - I think 10 - and her parents tried to live off her salary, verbally and mentally abusing her in the bargain. She came to us as an older teenager and has been at our Madurai house for about 10 years now. My father's friends suggested matrimony to a young man, the 2 got married and are very happy - thank goodness. It is nice to see Ms. A finally have some happiness in her young life. She is a doting mother, and the lump is too cute; as a friend said of her own healthy daughter, this child has met no food she does not like. My friend, Kris Rea, had kindly passed on some of her own daughters' very cute clothes, and this baby benefited. I'd bought an outfit in the U.S. on my last shopping spree, very happy that I was finally buying for a girl. I like the fact that my sons are normal and healthy; shopping for a girl, either this new baby, or Aishvarrya, is still grand fun.
My father left for a conference in Thanjavur and I visited a respected and beloved professor, Ms. Nagammai, at my alma mater, Lady Doak College. Ms. Nagammai is a dynamic and bright professor, and she became Head of the Department ("HOD," or Chair) in her mid-20's. It's always a treat to see her, and we talked and laughed and reminisced. I then went to the cemetery to pay respects at my brother's grave. That was not as therapeutic as it has been before, probably because I had other things to do, and a train to catch. I had dinner with a dear friend, Mrs. Kurien, and that was fun.
The Banyan's revered and beloved senior trustee, Mr. Vellodi, passed away 2 days ago. The funeral is tomorrow. Mr. Vellodi was a career diplomat and turned to social work after he retired; he said he enjoyed social work much more than his other career. He was personable and charming and fun and funny; I will miss him, as will the B.
Scott, Naren and I skyped today; Navin was at a movie. It was fun to talk and laugh. All 3 men have fine senses of humor, and I have revelled in that for a long time now, my great good fortune.
"Wit is educated insolence." - Aristotle (384-322 B.C.)
Unw -
R
Today's dark clothes laundry day and some heavy jeans and brightly colored cotton towels (I do love bright colors) are hanging on the line. Hardly anyone owns dryers here, as the sun does the job for us.
I am now licensed to practice medicine in India for gain (rather than just charity care), if I want. A friend's mother asked if I was going to try and get a better job; I stated there was no *better* job than the Banyan, and perhaps the goal to find something more *lucrative* ought to set in. However, I can write, and teach, and dance, and practice medicine at the B, and I think a more lucrative job might put paid (an end) to the non-medical activities. On Wednesday, my work-from-home day, I was feeling under the weather and as I plopped on the sofa to take a few extra minutes of rest before I started work, I wondered if I ought to feel guilty. And then the thought vanished as I wrote and answered mail and prepared training material.
Ms. E ran away last week. She stated that it was her son's b'day, and though neither boy has been located, she wanted to buy some sweets (candy). So the social worker wrote her a gate pass, a permission-to-go-outside slip. Ms. E vanished and did not return. In the evening, some of the B staff went to her old haunt near a local market and found her and brought her back. The next day, as I was teaching, I heard yelling and wailing; the staff enlightened me that Ms. E was in isolation and protesting. They mentioned her going to her husband and I said I thought he had died; the psychologist said there was doubt that there ever was a husband and now doubt that there were children. Investigations are on. I know little about psychological conditions and psychiatric illnesses, and perhaps it is not unheard of to imagine/halllucinate a family. I felt sorry, anyway, and am glad Ms. E is with us now; I don't think she was as glad, that day, but perhaps as we treat her illness, she will become more aware of her safe surroundings.
It is wonderful to have family support, isn't it. There have been times when I have felt myself coming unglued, and either Scott or the boys would help glue. Other times, a phone call to extended family - or friends close enough to be family - sets right the cosmos.
One of our senior health care workers is engaged to be married. It is an arranged marriage, and Ms. K explicitly asked for a groom working in Chennai so that she could continue working at the Banyan. Very few young women can really make such demands, but her family listened, the groom works in Chennai, and Ms. K will continue with us. Joy! She is a very nice and competent young woman, and I took some sweets for all to celebrate her happy occasion, the happiness for me being that she will continue with us.
Kovalam goes along well. A city bus (the public transport bus) driver came to be treated, as he had fallen and scraped his elbow. I cleaned the wound and dressed it. He then told me about other conditions in himself that were not completely clear to me and I asked that he bring his old records. He stated he would and told me he'd take leave to come and see me. I said that was unnecessary, and we could (I so hope!) finish his next visit in 15 minutes. I think some of this will involve my deciphering other providers' handwriting and that might or might not be time-consuming; let us see. I rather like treating simple wounds; the body does much of the healing and I like the process. The doctor might get much of the credit for the healing, but what the heck - I suppose that's inevitable.
The older man with the injured toe came to be checked and he is better! He had indeed come for daily dressings. I poked and prodded his foot and there was no pain - halleluia. His blood pressure was also normal and I was relieved, as he'd have to take bp meds otherwise, and those are currently beyond his budget.
Training at Kovalam was non-existent as nobody showed up at starting time, and offered me no explanation. So I walked out and took the bus home. I emailed later, discussing the situation with the person in charge and the higher-ups, and ostensibly, the staff had been occupied with other work; I mentioned the simple courtesy of keeping me informed as well as a myriad other forms of showing respect, and we hope for a class next week. A 30-minute class often lasts 90: there are so many questions and the staff are so eager to learn that I don't feel I can shut down and announce, "Well, that's that, then, I have to leave to beat the traffic." This is one of the joys of teaching: a bright, interested and motivated crew.
I went to Madurai this week to see my Dad. He normally sends the car to pick arriving travellers up, but he has dispensed with the driver as my Dad hardly goes anywhere. I took the bus from the train station and got home in 20 minutes. As I walked down our street to our house, an autorickshaw (a 3-wheeled mini-cab) driver who has known the family since I was a teenager (many, many moons ago) stopped to chat; "Well, Renu, you look pretty dried up. Let's go have coffee and 2 vadais (deep-fried savory lentil donuts - pretty darn tasty, natch, given the 'deep-fried' part)." I declined, but we chatted and then one of my Dad's employees walked up to say my Dad was sitting up waiting for me. He normally starts his day late, having retired, but was up at 0530, he said, as I was coming. We talked and talked, then showered, and ate breakfast and talked some more. I like hearing about his and his brother's days (his brother was the class and college clown) in med school - among other things - and we spent some fine times reminiscing. I went with him to a clinical meeting, and enjoyed it; the topic was treatment for fractures in the spine and it was cool to hear the presentation.
My Dad's cook (the country is overpopulated and it is very common to have cooks and maids and drivers) has had a baby girl, and the child is a fat lump of adorable and joyful. The cook, Ms. A, was sent to work at a very young age - I think 10 - and her parents tried to live off her salary, verbally and mentally abusing her in the bargain. She came to us as an older teenager and has been at our Madurai house for about 10 years now. My father's friends suggested matrimony to a young man, the 2 got married and are very happy - thank goodness. It is nice to see Ms. A finally have some happiness in her young life. She is a doting mother, and the lump is too cute; as a friend said of her own healthy daughter, this child has met no food she does not like. My friend, Kris Rea, had kindly passed on some of her own daughters' very cute clothes, and this baby benefited. I'd bought an outfit in the U.S. on my last shopping spree, very happy that I was finally buying for a girl. I like the fact that my sons are normal and healthy; shopping for a girl, either this new baby, or Aishvarrya, is still grand fun.
My father left for a conference in Thanjavur and I visited a respected and beloved professor, Ms. Nagammai, at my alma mater, Lady Doak College. Ms. Nagammai is a dynamic and bright professor, and she became Head of the Department ("HOD," or Chair) in her mid-20's. It's always a treat to see her, and we talked and laughed and reminisced. I then went to the cemetery to pay respects at my brother's grave. That was not as therapeutic as it has been before, probably because I had other things to do, and a train to catch. I had dinner with a dear friend, Mrs. Kurien, and that was fun.
The Banyan's revered and beloved senior trustee, Mr. Vellodi, passed away 2 days ago. The funeral is tomorrow. Mr. Vellodi was a career diplomat and turned to social work after he retired; he said he enjoyed social work much more than his other career. He was personable and charming and fun and funny; I will miss him, as will the B.
Scott, Naren and I skyped today; Navin was at a movie. It was fun to talk and laugh. All 3 men have fine senses of humor, and I have revelled in that for a long time now, my great good fortune.
"Wit is educated insolence." - Aristotle (384-322 B.C.)
Unw -
R
posted by Renu Weiss at
5:06 PM
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