Report of 10 July 2012
Hello from Indianapolis!
We are well, and hope the same with you.
Last week was a fine week. All 4 of us were in the same country, nay the same house. A tiny 1-bedroom affair, but hey, a change from being across several continents. And the roof did not leak, there was no stench nearby, etc.
On the 4th of July, Scott and I celebrated a wedding anniversary. We didn't pick that date just for kicks; my mother consulted the astrologer, he came up with a date and time (6 something in the am) and we got married then. Scott and our friend, Farshid, had stayed up watching Wimbledon; I had slept and then gone with my aunt to the temple (my aunt is a devout person), and the priest had seen the mehendi (henna) on my hands and given me a flower in addition to the kumkum (red powder we place on our foreheads after worship), which I considered grand good luck. We then got married, had a reception in the evening and were Mr. and Mrs.
We were fortunate to have the boys with us this anniversary, and saw "Spiderman," which was good, and then went to Bravo, a favorite restaurant, to eat. The waiter's name was Jibran, to Naren's great delight: he has a friend named Gibran, pronounced the same way. We had a great meal, and then went to Macy's where we took advantage of some fine sales and got suits for the boys. They looked good, and we took family pics later in the week in said suits - a mother's fond wish. Navin was kind enough to put up with all the running around at the mall. One of my joys currently is being able to buy stuff for other people, including my sons; that's one of the perks of having some extra cash. (Most of my clothes are hand-me-downs from stylish friends like Olivia and Emily; this works well as I abhor shopping and like clothes. :) )
We live in a multicultural neighborhood, and had Peruvian food with my colleague, Christine, who is about to embark to Pakistan on a medical assignment. The boys clued her in on the transition from the West to the East, and it was cool to listen to them. Naren is talkative, and Navin did have a pertinent point or two also. I remember all the advice given to us by Indian friends who absolutely do not want to return to India (and that's fine with us, that's their choice): "Don't go." "The boys will be teased." "You'll find life difficult there." "You'll give up the opportunities here." Well, we did go; the boys loved life there; life was warm, welcoming and wealthy in other ways; and we gave up no opportunities but found several new ones.
On our way to get the pictures taken, as we tried to figure out the shortest route possible, we came upon an accident. There was a figure lying in the middle of the street, and people clustered around. We were on a tight schedule, but no fiber of my being would have let me pass this scene, so Scott stopped the car and I went over. It was a motorcycle accident, where the rider skidded to avoid a car, and thankfully, the man was wearing a helmet. So, he was essentially okay barring some scrapes, and I stayed until the ambulance got there and then all of us toodled on to pics. Scott had called the studio and explained the circumstances, and we walked in and got pics taken after much getting ready. (Long hair had to be combed; not my long hair.)
It is always a grand affirmation of my purpose in life when I stop at accident scenes, and can impart some knowledge to evaluate the situation. I will always be a wife and mother first, but by golly, "Doctor," now there's a privilege. There are always desperate people at accident scenes, and being able to assist is fabulous. In India, accident scenes generate massive crowds, with all manner of extremely well-intentioned advice being given (which I love - folks are so, so intent on helping), and I have to step in and yell that I am a doctor, and then start giving instructions. At one accident, some young men living nearby actually tore a perfectly good shirt so that I could bandage the young patient's wounded leg. All lovely.
Work has been good, and right along with handling stroke patients undergoing rehab, we had to deal with a patient whose wife had syringes in her purse and had left it with her husband - a recovering drug addict. Hmmm. The syringes had to be sent off for analysis. I talked to this young man, explained that he'd had a stroke from an infection on his heart valve caused by drug use, and asked that he stay clean. Beyond that, though, is up to him: the rest of the year, I work in a resource-poor environment and I simply do not have the means - or the inclination - to coax compliance. "Here's the deal: here's what you have to do. Can't do it, okay then, you may get a stroke or diabetes." Or have a heart attack. Or die.
I am very happy that the health care law passed; I work with too many uninsured people to be anything but happy. The American College of Physicians has come out with a ringing endorsement of the law. I am hopeful that all U.S. residents will now be able to afford health insurance. Some of the sentiments expressed to me have been alarming. A couple of years ago, an acquaintance said, "Oh, poor us actually - they'll take our health insurance and give it to those who don't have it." And this time around, otherwise rational folks are quoting confusing articles to back their disapproval. I am especially unable to reconcile how deeply religious individuals whose tenet it is to care for the disadvantaged come out hammer and tongs against the law. Please do not email me your view of the situation if you are intent on telling me how misguided the law is, or want to diss its author (I have no political views). Thanks.
Naren left on Saturday, and the rest of us watched Wimbledon, etc. The women's match was good, and the men's was edifyingly boring; I wondered if both men could lose. We spent Sunday afternoon at Carmel library, reading and revelling. I talked to Naren on Monday, the day after he landed, and he was at a party (wedding reception). Navin found this prioritization pretty spot on.
Unw -
R
We are well, and hope the same with you.
Last week was a fine week. All 4 of us were in the same country, nay the same house. A tiny 1-bedroom affair, but hey, a change from being across several continents. And the roof did not leak, there was no stench nearby, etc.
On the 4th of July, Scott and I celebrated a wedding anniversary. We didn't pick that date just for kicks; my mother consulted the astrologer, he came up with a date and time (6 something in the am) and we got married then. Scott and our friend, Farshid, had stayed up watching Wimbledon; I had slept and then gone with my aunt to the temple (my aunt is a devout person), and the priest had seen the mehendi (henna) on my hands and given me a flower in addition to the kumkum (red powder we place on our foreheads after worship), which I considered grand good luck. We then got married, had a reception in the evening and were Mr. and Mrs.
We were fortunate to have the boys with us this anniversary, and saw "Spiderman," which was good, and then went to Bravo, a favorite restaurant, to eat. The waiter's name was Jibran, to Naren's great delight: he has a friend named Gibran, pronounced the same way. We had a great meal, and then went to Macy's where we took advantage of some fine sales and got suits for the boys. They looked good, and we took family pics later in the week in said suits - a mother's fond wish. Navin was kind enough to put up with all the running around at the mall. One of my joys currently is being able to buy stuff for other people, including my sons; that's one of the perks of having some extra cash. (Most of my clothes are hand-me-downs from stylish friends like Olivia and Emily; this works well as I abhor shopping and like clothes. :) )
We live in a multicultural neighborhood, and had Peruvian food with my colleague, Christine, who is about to embark to Pakistan on a medical assignment. The boys clued her in on the transition from the West to the East, and it was cool to listen to them. Naren is talkative, and Navin did have a pertinent point or two also. I remember all the advice given to us by Indian friends who absolutely do not want to return to India (and that's fine with us, that's their choice): "Don't go." "The boys will be teased." "You'll find life difficult there." "You'll give up the opportunities here." Well, we did go; the boys loved life there; life was warm, welcoming and wealthy in other ways; and we gave up no opportunities but found several new ones.
On our way to get the pictures taken, as we tried to figure out the shortest route possible, we came upon an accident. There was a figure lying in the middle of the street, and people clustered around. We were on a tight schedule, but no fiber of my being would have let me pass this scene, so Scott stopped the car and I went over. It was a motorcycle accident, where the rider skidded to avoid a car, and thankfully, the man was wearing a helmet. So, he was essentially okay barring some scrapes, and I stayed until the ambulance got there and then all of us toodled on to pics. Scott had called the studio and explained the circumstances, and we walked in and got pics taken after much getting ready. (Long hair had to be combed; not my long hair.)
It is always a grand affirmation of my purpose in life when I stop at accident scenes, and can impart some knowledge to evaluate the situation. I will always be a wife and mother first, but by golly, "Doctor," now there's a privilege. There are always desperate people at accident scenes, and being able to assist is fabulous. In India, accident scenes generate massive crowds, with all manner of extremely well-intentioned advice being given (which I love - folks are so, so intent on helping), and I have to step in and yell that I am a doctor, and then start giving instructions. At one accident, some young men living nearby actually tore a perfectly good shirt so that I could bandage the young patient's wounded leg. All lovely.
Work has been good, and right along with handling stroke patients undergoing rehab, we had to deal with a patient whose wife had syringes in her purse and had left it with her husband - a recovering drug addict. Hmmm. The syringes had to be sent off for analysis. I talked to this young man, explained that he'd had a stroke from an infection on his heart valve caused by drug use, and asked that he stay clean. Beyond that, though, is up to him: the rest of the year, I work in a resource-poor environment and I simply do not have the means - or the inclination - to coax compliance. "Here's the deal: here's what you have to do. Can't do it, okay then, you may get a stroke or diabetes." Or have a heart attack. Or die.
I am very happy that the health care law passed; I work with too many uninsured people to be anything but happy. The American College of Physicians has come out with a ringing endorsement of the law. I am hopeful that all U.S. residents will now be able to afford health insurance. Some of the sentiments expressed to me have been alarming. A couple of years ago, an acquaintance said, "Oh, poor us actually - they'll take our health insurance and give it to those who don't have it." And this time around, otherwise rational folks are quoting confusing articles to back their disapproval. I am especially unable to reconcile how deeply religious individuals whose tenet it is to care for the disadvantaged come out hammer and tongs against the law. Please do not email me your view of the situation if you are intent on telling me how misguided the law is, or want to diss its author (I have no political views). Thanks.
Naren left on Saturday, and the rest of us watched Wimbledon, etc. The women's match was good, and the men's was edifyingly boring; I wondered if both men could lose. We spent Sunday afternoon at Carmel library, reading and revelling. I talked to Naren on Monday, the day after he landed, and he was at a party (wedding reception). Navin found this prioritization pretty spot on.
Unw -
R
posted by Renu Weiss at
1:22 PM
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