SEVENTEEN DAYS OF SOLITUDE

What you are about to read ahead may not fascinate you; but know that it’s a bitter experience of one of your friends, who never thought the very smell of medicines can frighten her; it’s a pain that would have destroyed the lives of a small family. And yes, only now can I make out what I have been through a month ago.

                   It was on a fine Tuesday morning that my Amma went off to the hospital with my father for her Hysterectomy (surgery). She wished me luck while leaving for I had a debate for my English hour that day. My sister and I slept at my friend’s, downstairs at night. We spent time at class and hospital during day. It was my first night away from my mom. But I was managing, somehow, since I knew she’d be back in a couple of days. I hoped everything to be good and hence didn’t tell my friends.

                 Amma was highly anemic. She had to come up to a normal blood count level for her surgery. She was in need of blood. I didn’t realize how serious issues were until Acha told me about her condition. I didn’t know what to do! I ran everywhere in search of donors and my friends who were NSS volunteers took me to their seniors who took care of everything. They had the situation under control even though I was panicking. Two of them-my two anonymous saviors gave blood for Amma; who would always be my own brothers, sons of my mother.

  Things had a twist, I panicked, but nothing went wrong. Life had something else set aside to anguish us.

         

      Amma’s blood count became normal and she had her surgery done. She was prescribed heavy tranquilizers and painkillers. It was eight days since Amma was hospitalized. My sister and I took turns to stay at the hospital. One day after class, I went to the hospital and found Acha and my sister deep in distress. Amma was not in the room. Acha took me out, bought me a coffee and spoke to me (in his sober voice, which he uses for extremely serious issues- the sound I loathe).

                     

                        ‘Amma reacted so bad to one of the antibiotic medicines she was taking, her kidneys fail to work. She would’ve slipped into coma, but fortunately is at the ICU. She can’t be referred to any other hospital right now. She is in a bad stage; she might need dialysis to sustain her life.’

I heard him. I wasn’t sure myself if that really was happening, but I heard him. I couldn’t move, nor could I think. My heart shrunk. I was numb. I didn’t know what’s next.

It may not seem a great deal, but for me it was my end. I have seen my Grandma (who did dialysis) being tortured to slow death. I didn’t want Amma to live long only to suffer. I want her to be happy as long as she lives.

Acha had decided something already. Still he asked me what to do. I won’t let her do the dialysis, I said. We’ll take whatever she has got; we only want her to be happy. Why let her live a life as hell for long?

                     He didn’t answer me.

This time I thought things would turn much worse. But it didn’t. The black shadow that was creeping over our lives began to retrieve. What Amma had was an ‘acute kidney failure’ –which was just temporary. It’s the reaction of the body to the alien elements of certain medicines. She was recovering sooner than what we expected.

Seventeen days. Seventeen days I was away from Amma. I managed a home. I lived with a drained heart and soul. I was empty and numb; for seventeen days.

Amma is home with us now. She cooks for me, scolds me (how bad I wanted to hear that, you guys have no idea) and is always beside me. She is perfectly normal. Two days back I came across a quote – ‘Those events that crush us the most turns into sweet memories over time’. I don’t know how much of this is true, but I really don’t want to think of those seventeen days of my life. The only memorable part is the realization that how much my family loved each other.

It was my friends and family who pushed me forward. And I’ll always be indebted with my life to everyone who was there for me during my hard times. I am back to who I used to be now. It’s obvious and at the same time surprising how pensive and sluggish we become without our loved ones near us. I now know how my hosteller friends feel and I respect them for that.

                               Now I have a reason to live, a meaning to explore. And I’d like my friends to always remember that:

                      “When life gives you a hundred reasons to cry, show life back that you have a thousand reasons to smile.”

JENNIFER GEORGE