Report of 26 Feb 2013
Good morning!
Life has been good. Work is fabulous, if penniless. But that's okay.
Kovalam has been good. One of our funders and friends referred a relative of his employee to us. The lady is impoverished (as is the case with many of our patients), has lost her husband, and appears to have gone into deep depression. She speaks somewhat relevantly, but has not eaten well: I can circle her upper arm with my thumb and middle finger. We can certainly get her better, and that is the joy of the work. It will be a team effort - which is also nice - and we can do it. I am privileged in my colleagues, all are focused on the patient and not themselves. We are also fortunate in that we have some extra food daily, and this lady can eat and drink. I was happy to hear that she and her husband had shared a loving relationship, that is not the case in many marriages - whichever country one is in. The void that the demise of her husband has left cannot be filled by any of us, but we can certainly get her physically and somewhat mentally better. It is a tremendous honor that the funder and friend entrusted us with this work.
Menopause should bring mood swings, I guess. I am snippy much of the time, but am surprisingly happy at work. I had a sore throat last week and all - at work and home - had some blissful peace from my relentless talk.
Adaikalam has also been good. One of our patients, Ms. S, had been hospitalised with pneumonia and, as always, the doctors at SMF had taken very good care of her. We are very fortunate in our association with this hospital: the doctors are always very respectful of our patients and all of us. The care is also on par with international standards. Ms. S has recovered well and is up to her usual boisterous, attention-grabbing antics. This is how we know that our patients are better - they get back to baseline, regardless of what the baseline is.
22 February was the 3rd anniversary of my mother's demise. We observed it by cooking her favorite foods and elected to follow a Tamilian custom of gifting sarees to some poor women. We called the ladies who clean our apartment complex and they paid respects at my mother's photo, then Naren, Scott and I took turns giving the sarees. I ended up bawling and the ladies sweetly stopped and said, "Don't cry, Amma (Madam), your Mother is surely in a better place." I was very touched. One of the ladies, one of our favorite people, had even worn the saree we had given 2 years ago on the same day, and I was even more touched - what a very sweet thought. I missed my mother - her poweful sense of humor, her tremendous sense of hospitality, her careful raising of all of us in spite of the limited budget that 2 doctors who treat the poor have; her delicious food; the beautiful decor of our house and the careful way she made the cushion covers and curtains; her love of her children, children-in-law and grandchildren.
The weekend was fabulous. My father flew in from Madurai to be with us. He actually had an important meeting of my alma mater, Lady Doak College, on Saturday, but chose to forego it, to our great good fortune. We attended a Bharatanatyam (classical Indian dance) recital at our city's magnificent instituion, Kalakshetra, in memory of its founder, Rukmini Devi Arundale; my Dad enjoyed this very much. The next day, we saw "Zero Dark Thirty," which all enjoyed, and my aunt joined us for "Vishwaroopam," in which Naren has a small role. My sister-in-law, Susan, and her kids, Sudhir and Sanjana, came in that night and my nephews, Aditya and Vikram, joined us for dinner, which was a merry time. All of us Skyped with Navin, and that was fun; the cousins had unique banter, incomprehensible to the rest of us (it involved showing feet to Navin, etc. - see what I mean? :) ). The young men then went clubbing and the rest of us slept. The next day, my sister, Anu, joined us (which was nice of her, as she had to make the trip from Vellore), and we had a lovely breakfast at the restaurant of a local hotel. We were also joined by some very close friends, which made for a memorable and wonderful time; we ate delicious food, chattered, laughed, loved. We are truly blessed in our family and friends.
On Sunday evening, on the way back from the beach (a favorite haunt of Sanjana's), we stopped to tend to a medical emergency. A young woman was sitting on the pavement (sidewalk), and a young man was hovering over her; it turns out the lady was 3 months pregnant and nauseated. I gave some rudimentary advice and, on finding out that even the first medical check-up had not been done, started to get irate; I quickly advised the check-up and left, before my menopausal rage reigned.
It's a good life - near menopause or not near menopause. I hope yours is, also.
Unw -
R
Life has been good. Work is fabulous, if penniless. But that's okay.
Kovalam has been good. One of our funders and friends referred a relative of his employee to us. The lady is impoverished (as is the case with many of our patients), has lost her husband, and appears to have gone into deep depression. She speaks somewhat relevantly, but has not eaten well: I can circle her upper arm with my thumb and middle finger. We can certainly get her better, and that is the joy of the work. It will be a team effort - which is also nice - and we can do it. I am privileged in my colleagues, all are focused on the patient and not themselves. We are also fortunate in that we have some extra food daily, and this lady can eat and drink. I was happy to hear that she and her husband had shared a loving relationship, that is not the case in many marriages - whichever country one is in. The void that the demise of her husband has left cannot be filled by any of us, but we can certainly get her physically and somewhat mentally better. It is a tremendous honor that the funder and friend entrusted us with this work.
Menopause should bring mood swings, I guess. I am snippy much of the time, but am surprisingly happy at work. I had a sore throat last week and all - at work and home - had some blissful peace from my relentless talk.
Adaikalam has also been good. One of our patients, Ms. S, had been hospitalised with pneumonia and, as always, the doctors at SMF had taken very good care of her. We are very fortunate in our association with this hospital: the doctors are always very respectful of our patients and all of us. The care is also on par with international standards. Ms. S has recovered well and is up to her usual boisterous, attention-grabbing antics. This is how we know that our patients are better - they get back to baseline, regardless of what the baseline is.
22 February was the 3rd anniversary of my mother's demise. We observed it by cooking her favorite foods and elected to follow a Tamilian custom of gifting sarees to some poor women. We called the ladies who clean our apartment complex and they paid respects at my mother's photo, then Naren, Scott and I took turns giving the sarees. I ended up bawling and the ladies sweetly stopped and said, "Don't cry, Amma (Madam), your Mother is surely in a better place." I was very touched. One of the ladies, one of our favorite people, had even worn the saree we had given 2 years ago on the same day, and I was even more touched - what a very sweet thought. I missed my mother - her poweful sense of humor, her tremendous sense of hospitality, her careful raising of all of us in spite of the limited budget that 2 doctors who treat the poor have; her delicious food; the beautiful decor of our house and the careful way she made the cushion covers and curtains; her love of her children, children-in-law and grandchildren.
The weekend was fabulous. My father flew in from Madurai to be with us. He actually had an important meeting of my alma mater, Lady Doak College, on Saturday, but chose to forego it, to our great good fortune. We attended a Bharatanatyam (classical Indian dance) recital at our city's magnificent instituion, Kalakshetra, in memory of its founder, Rukmini Devi Arundale; my Dad enjoyed this very much. The next day, we saw "Zero Dark Thirty," which all enjoyed, and my aunt joined us for "Vishwaroopam," in which Naren has a small role. My sister-in-law, Susan, and her kids, Sudhir and Sanjana, came in that night and my nephews, Aditya and Vikram, joined us for dinner, which was a merry time. All of us Skyped with Navin, and that was fun; the cousins had unique banter, incomprehensible to the rest of us (it involved showing feet to Navin, etc. - see what I mean? :) ). The young men then went clubbing and the rest of us slept. The next day, my sister, Anu, joined us (which was nice of her, as she had to make the trip from Vellore), and we had a lovely breakfast at the restaurant of a local hotel. We were also joined by some very close friends, which made for a memorable and wonderful time; we ate delicious food, chattered, laughed, loved. We are truly blessed in our family and friends.
On Sunday evening, on the way back from the beach (a favorite haunt of Sanjana's), we stopped to tend to a medical emergency. A young woman was sitting on the pavement (sidewalk), and a young man was hovering over her; it turns out the lady was 3 months pregnant and nauseated. I gave some rudimentary advice and, on finding out that even the first medical check-up had not been done, started to get irate; I quickly advised the check-up and left, before my menopausal rage reigned.
It's a good life - near menopause or not near menopause. I hope yours is, also.
Unw -
R
posted by Renu Weiss at
7:17 PM
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