Report of 8 Sept 2015
Good morning from Terre Haute -
Hope all of you are well.
I received word this morning that my mother's older sister, K, died today. She was 90, and suffering from dementia. She was ably cared for by her sister, C, aged 81. K was fiery in her time, resigning from her position as hospital administrator when she found a politician dipping into a fund reserved to treat impoverished patients. This made the front page of national newspapers, and she got marriage proposals from as far away as Australia. Electing not to marry - either when she was younger or older, a position most uncommon for the Indian woman - she lived very happily alone, reading, playing cards, cooking, and being a genial hostess whenever we visited. She took me to her neighbor, a homeopathy doctor, to treat vitiligo on my neck. We talked of Independence Day, 15 August 1947; she described it as jubilation, and that happy crowds gathered in New Delhi - where she worked at the time - full of a sense of happiness. Scott and I visited both my aunts in March, and ordered a cake 2 months early for K's 90th b'day. She read the legend on it "Happy 90th birthday," looked up and said, "Thank you." It was a magnificent moment.
While some passings are not unexpected, they certainly do rattle, don't they. After my mother died, K told me little things that my mother had done for her while growing up - walking on her right side to school so that her right ear, often subject to pain, would not be beset by wind; hanging out with her as they were close in age (2 years apart), and many such stories. They were nice. I remember these times more than the times after the onset of dementia; my aunt would often cover up her memory lapses by asking "Do you think I don't know who you are?" She seemed to be somewhat aware of her state. She remained genial, fun and interactive even through her illness.
Dementia is a terrible disease. It leaves the shell of the person afflicted by it. C did a superlative job caring for K, and K could stay healthy and, as above, genial.
Work has been wonderful. The team of hospitalists is good, and the hospital staff is fabulous. To be able to take care of sick people, order tests without worrying about whether the patients can afford it, to be able to talk to specialists - all this is very professionally satisfying.
Naren was here last week and all 4 of us ate until we practically burst, saw movies, and shopped more than Scott and I have in the last 5 months :). It was nice to spend time with both boys: they are intelligent and opinionated and candid, and are grand to listen to.
Hope you have fine times of your own.
Unw -
R
Hope all of you are well.
I received word this morning that my mother's older sister, K, died today. She was 90, and suffering from dementia. She was ably cared for by her sister, C, aged 81. K was fiery in her time, resigning from her position as hospital administrator when she found a politician dipping into a fund reserved to treat impoverished patients. This made the front page of national newspapers, and she got marriage proposals from as far away as Australia. Electing not to marry - either when she was younger or older, a position most uncommon for the Indian woman - she lived very happily alone, reading, playing cards, cooking, and being a genial hostess whenever we visited. She took me to her neighbor, a homeopathy doctor, to treat vitiligo on my neck. We talked of Independence Day, 15 August 1947; she described it as jubilation, and that happy crowds gathered in New Delhi - where she worked at the time - full of a sense of happiness. Scott and I visited both my aunts in March, and ordered a cake 2 months early for K's 90th b'day. She read the legend on it "Happy 90th birthday," looked up and said, "Thank you." It was a magnificent moment.
While some passings are not unexpected, they certainly do rattle, don't they. After my mother died, K told me little things that my mother had done for her while growing up - walking on her right side to school so that her right ear, often subject to pain, would not be beset by wind; hanging out with her as they were close in age (2 years apart), and many such stories. They were nice. I remember these times more than the times after the onset of dementia; my aunt would often cover up her memory lapses by asking "Do you think I don't know who you are?" She seemed to be somewhat aware of her state. She remained genial, fun and interactive even through her illness.
Dementia is a terrible disease. It leaves the shell of the person afflicted by it. C did a superlative job caring for K, and K could stay healthy and, as above, genial.
Work has been wonderful. The team of hospitalists is good, and the hospital staff is fabulous. To be able to take care of sick people, order tests without worrying about whether the patients can afford it, to be able to talk to specialists - all this is very professionally satisfying.
Naren was here last week and all 4 of us ate until we practically burst, saw movies, and shopped more than Scott and I have in the last 5 months :). It was nice to spend time with both boys: they are intelligent and opinionated and candid, and are grand to listen to.
Hope you have fine times of your own.
Unw -
R
posted by Renu Weiss at
8:43 AM
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