Report of 04 Mar 2012
Hello from Chennai!
It is sunny and hot. A little too hot. The bright orange towel hanging on the balcony does not seem to think so. It is so hot that our clothes dry in minutes and we did 2 loads today. Even my thick bedspread dried quickly.
As I write, one son is hanging out with his Dad in the U.S. and the other one is gallivanting with his friends. I received a very nice sms thank you from him - the Chennai lad. There was a surprise party here to celebrate his 21st b'day and a couple of his friends did a fine job colluding with me on pulling it off. Both Naren and I have become antisocial, and I told him I had invited some folks over whom I'd casually met a few days ago; he and I crabbed as we got the meal together and cleaned, the worse the moods because the power goes off between 8 and 10 AM and the heat increases ill humor. Anyhoo, we got the prep done, heated the food that our cook had kindly made and then off went Naren to pick up a cake from our favorite bakery, which also trains underprivileged youngsters in the art of baking. By the time Naren returned, 8 of his high school buddies were here (many study out of town and many had exams to prepare for), and he was suitably surprised. We'd also done this for Navin's 18th b'day, and it is fun to put such things together. I quite preferred hosting these young folks to hosting my own age group, as all I had to do was cook a couple of things, cursorily clean, ensure at least 3 types of dessert and then I could sit back and watch the natural goodness of these fine people come to the fore. It would have been grand to sit and talk to them, too, and I managed to do that before the birthday boy landed; the rest of the time was spent by me catching up on the newspaper and by Naren catching up with his friends. It was a fun time.
The Banyan continues to be good and one day, I started thinking that perhaps I ought to devote a little more time to private practice for gain. And then, it was time to train the young ladies; the topic was cancer and the discussions were robust and bloody good fun. Every day, these women become more and more like nurse practitioners/quasi-doctors. Empowering these folks I wouldn't give up for the world. I get lots of morning greetings and chatter, and many of them appear to enjoy what they do. One does not realise the importance of working with such folks until one has done a turn working with folks that don't enjoy what they do.
The man in Kovalam with the injured foot returned to be evaluated for fever. I asked for several blood tests, and gave him acetaminophen/paracetamol. He then mentioned coughing mightily every night and said his son had told him to investigate the possibility of TB (tuberculosis). "Listen to the patient; he will give you the diagnosis." - Osler. So I asked for the sputum to be sent off for tests, and I will get the results tomorrow. He does look a little TB-ish, and I will know yes or no soon enough. I'd reached Kovalam early last week and had taken a walk to the beach; I'd come across this patient on my walk there and we had stopped to talk. Most of all, I am grateful that this man feels he is being heard, and listened to, and treated with care. The poor here often have no such luxuries.
Back in Mogappair, a sprightly young hcw (health care worker) fairly skipped in to my office, and told me she had not had my answer to her question. She had asked about donating an eye, or a kidney, and I had asked at that time if she needed money (selling organs illegally is fairly big business here); she had vehemently denied it and professed an altruistic intent. I'd told her not to consider organ donation. When she brought up the question again, she admitted that she did need money to "settle" her brother, an electrician and driver. Their father had died, and the paternal grandmother had refused to give them a share of their father's property. Both kids had been brought up by their mother and procured what education they could. This hcw wanted to give her brother a better career, and we are working with her on this (without her having to sell body parts). I rather like the affection expressed: in spite of life dealing her tough blows, this young lady - first and foremost - wanted to take care of her older brother.
Last week, several of us went to Pondicherry for a conference organised by the French Institute there and us; the theme was "Food, physical health and mental health." It was fabulous; nice to learn from others. Our younger colleagues (at the Banyan) also handled all logistical issues magnificently. My sister-in-law, Susan, a nutritionist and dietitian, presented and it was very good; I learnt so much. It was nice to see Susan and hang out. I, too, presented - on the link between physical and mental health; I abhor research and the presentation was based on case studies. It was after lunch and a snooze-inducer. It finished, thank goodness, and generated a question or two. The best presentation was from an NGO working with scheduled caste (outcaste, you might know this term better) female farmers and helping them grow millets; not only were the families fed but there was enough grain left to sell, too. Fabulous! Hunger can do strange things to folks and in one of the films made by a village lady (who was present), an older lady spoke of times gone by and how she could not feed her children then. That is a matter of horror for me: imagine not having anything for my sons if they said, "Amma, I am hungry."
The French culture was intriguing: they spoke the language without worrying if those around could understand it or not, they served themselves first at lunch (anathema to the average Indian - "Athithi Devo Bhava," the guest is God), and smoked outside without asking those around if the smoke would bother them. "It's just different," said Navin, when we Skyped today. Truly, we borrow the world from our children, do we not.
The 2nd anniversary of my mother's demise was last week. I did a puja (worship) at home to her picture, and fed the Banyan. I requested a non-vegetarian dish and some fruit; it was pricey, but my mother so believed in feeding people well that I was simply recreating a meal that she might have served.
The current big dream is to write for a fee. I am finding the need to do this, and will pursue all options. As I told people, I doubt very much that I will make money practising medicine. Scott is a dear to understand this, accept it and - what's more - encourage it.
Naren and I saw a play last night called "Cast party." It was excellent. We were seated in the VIP section by the usher, who knew Naren. There you go - connections from our children.
All 4 of us Skyped this morning and will Skype again this evening before Navin returns to college: his computer does not have a working microphone (we tell him often that an engineering student ought to repair that :) ) and I am grabbing this chance to hear his voice on Scott's machine.
"When I was fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have him around. When I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years." - Mark Twain
Unw -
R
It is sunny and hot. A little too hot. The bright orange towel hanging on the balcony does not seem to think so. It is so hot that our clothes dry in minutes and we did 2 loads today. Even my thick bedspread dried quickly.
As I write, one son is hanging out with his Dad in the U.S. and the other one is gallivanting with his friends. I received a very nice sms thank you from him - the Chennai lad. There was a surprise party here to celebrate his 21st b'day and a couple of his friends did a fine job colluding with me on pulling it off. Both Naren and I have become antisocial, and I told him I had invited some folks over whom I'd casually met a few days ago; he and I crabbed as we got the meal together and cleaned, the worse the moods because the power goes off between 8 and 10 AM and the heat increases ill humor. Anyhoo, we got the prep done, heated the food that our cook had kindly made and then off went Naren to pick up a cake from our favorite bakery, which also trains underprivileged youngsters in the art of baking. By the time Naren returned, 8 of his high school buddies were here (many study out of town and many had exams to prepare for), and he was suitably surprised. We'd also done this for Navin's 18th b'day, and it is fun to put such things together. I quite preferred hosting these young folks to hosting my own age group, as all I had to do was cook a couple of things, cursorily clean, ensure at least 3 types of dessert and then I could sit back and watch the natural goodness of these fine people come to the fore. It would have been grand to sit and talk to them, too, and I managed to do that before the birthday boy landed; the rest of the time was spent by me catching up on the newspaper and by Naren catching up with his friends. It was a fun time.
The Banyan continues to be good and one day, I started thinking that perhaps I ought to devote a little more time to private practice for gain. And then, it was time to train the young ladies; the topic was cancer and the discussions were robust and bloody good fun. Every day, these women become more and more like nurse practitioners/quasi-doctors. Empowering these folks I wouldn't give up for the world. I get lots of morning greetings and chatter, and many of them appear to enjoy what they do. One does not realise the importance of working with such folks until one has done a turn working with folks that don't enjoy what they do.
The man in Kovalam with the injured foot returned to be evaluated for fever. I asked for several blood tests, and gave him acetaminophen/paracetamol. He then mentioned coughing mightily every night and said his son had told him to investigate the possibility of TB (tuberculosis). "Listen to the patient; he will give you the diagnosis." - Osler. So I asked for the sputum to be sent off for tests, and I will get the results tomorrow. He does look a little TB-ish, and I will know yes or no soon enough. I'd reached Kovalam early last week and had taken a walk to the beach; I'd come across this patient on my walk there and we had stopped to talk. Most of all, I am grateful that this man feels he is being heard, and listened to, and treated with care. The poor here often have no such luxuries.
Back in Mogappair, a sprightly young hcw (health care worker) fairly skipped in to my office, and told me she had not had my answer to her question. She had asked about donating an eye, or a kidney, and I had asked at that time if she needed money (selling organs illegally is fairly big business here); she had vehemently denied it and professed an altruistic intent. I'd told her not to consider organ donation. When she brought up the question again, she admitted that she did need money to "settle" her brother, an electrician and driver. Their father had died, and the paternal grandmother had refused to give them a share of their father's property. Both kids had been brought up by their mother and procured what education they could. This hcw wanted to give her brother a better career, and we are working with her on this (without her having to sell body parts). I rather like the affection expressed: in spite of life dealing her tough blows, this young lady - first and foremost - wanted to take care of her older brother.
Last week, several of us went to Pondicherry for a conference organised by the French Institute there and us; the theme was "Food, physical health and mental health." It was fabulous; nice to learn from others. Our younger colleagues (at the Banyan) also handled all logistical issues magnificently. My sister-in-law, Susan, a nutritionist and dietitian, presented and it was very good; I learnt so much. It was nice to see Susan and hang out. I, too, presented - on the link between physical and mental health; I abhor research and the presentation was based on case studies. It was after lunch and a snooze-inducer. It finished, thank goodness, and generated a question or two. The best presentation was from an NGO working with scheduled caste (outcaste, you might know this term better) female farmers and helping them grow millets; not only were the families fed but there was enough grain left to sell, too. Fabulous! Hunger can do strange things to folks and in one of the films made by a village lady (who was present), an older lady spoke of times gone by and how she could not feed her children then. That is a matter of horror for me: imagine not having anything for my sons if they said, "Amma, I am hungry."
The French culture was intriguing: they spoke the language without worrying if those around could understand it or not, they served themselves first at lunch (anathema to the average Indian - "Athithi Devo Bhava," the guest is God), and smoked outside without asking those around if the smoke would bother them. "It's just different," said Navin, when we Skyped today. Truly, we borrow the world from our children, do we not.
The 2nd anniversary of my mother's demise was last week. I did a puja (worship) at home to her picture, and fed the Banyan. I requested a non-vegetarian dish and some fruit; it was pricey, but my mother so believed in feeding people well that I was simply recreating a meal that she might have served.
The current big dream is to write for a fee. I am finding the need to do this, and will pursue all options. As I told people, I doubt very much that I will make money practising medicine. Scott is a dear to understand this, accept it and - what's more - encourage it.
Naren and I saw a play last night called "Cast party." It was excellent. We were seated in the VIP section by the usher, who knew Naren. There you go - connections from our children.
All 4 of us Skyped this morning and will Skype again this evening before Navin returns to college: his computer does not have a working microphone (we tell him often that an engineering student ought to repair that :) ) and I am grabbing this chance to hear his voice on Scott's machine.
"When I was fourteen, my father was so ignorant I could hardly stand to have him around. When I got to be twenty-one, I was astonished at how much he had learned in seven years." - Mark Twain
Unw -
R
posted by Renu Weiss at
5:11 PM
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