Stoned!

On a drive from Chennai to Kumbakkonam, with family, to spend the long weekend in a scenic, serene village 10 kms away from Kumbakkonam... The very thought was so rejuvenating. The family was so eagerly looking forward for the drive and the days after that. Plans were made carefully. And we left as per plan… without realizing what was in store for us.

We, as a family, are used to traveling by road quite often. We are proud that we are one of the maximum toll payers for using the wonderful highways. Starting from the junior most in the family all of us are quite experienced in navigation, exploration, map-reading and all the associated skills of travel by road.

What we had not experienced was a traffic jam on the high way in the past 20 years of our driving. So the first surprise started there. We started the journey by 4 PM.

What should have taken us just 5 hours of drive or probably 6, took 10 full hours. And how! The first four to five hours were spent in listening to the radio and inching the road thanks to the heaviest traffic jam we have ever witnessed on a high way. The 4 of us were shut inside the car each one lost in his/her own world. My hubby and I were alternating taking our official calls. Some time was spent playing video games which exhausted the mobile batteries to the extent the additional battery pack was also drained. All was still well though the traffic was irritating and taking a toll on our patience levels.

By 9 PM, we had reached half the distance. Even then, we thought, next couple of hours we will reach our destination. Though destiny had other plans!

At around 9ish, when we stopped for a break, I started feeling a kind of “catch” on my right waist. I owed it to the long journey and longer hours of work that I clock in. So, took it easy. Very soon, in less than an hour, the pain started traversing to the right abdomen. That was not all! I started feeling severe nausea. I asked my hubby to stop the car, rushed out and started throwing up profusely until I was almost drained.

From there on, every 10-15 minutes, the car would stop. I would throw up and we would continue the journey. All through, the pain was getting worse and excruciating. My sons were tired nursing me and handing the bottles of water to me every time I vomited. The little one got all too tired and slept off in a couple of hours.

My older son looked around for clinics, hospitals, medical centers, pharmacies. As (bad) luck would have it, we could not spot a single one of those! Desperation was going high and my pain was growing higher. What a miracle God’s creation is! My brain, in spite of this entire trauma, did not stop reasoning. Why am I going through this? What did I eat that did not suit me? Is it a relapse of Appendicitis? What else could it be? Why this pain? When did I eat junk last? All calculations and permutations and combinations…nothing yielded a cognitive response that could be reasoned for all this hell!

We kept driving into the woods. As midnight drew closer, we were still a couple of hours away from our “scenic resort”.  At that point, I fell semi-unconscious which my older son mistook for passing out. He held my pulse and gave out a very alarmed notification, “Dad! She is not even moaning now!!”

Worst was yet to come…we thought we had reached the resort. It was 1 AM. My mobile was out of charge! My hubby’s mobile had 6% battery left. The battery pack had died. Symbolically, everything around and within seemed out of charge! We had used the GPS to find the place where we were supposed to go to. After we reached where GPS took us, we realized we were lost and in the middle of darkness and nowhere!

This is when panic struck all of us! Not a soul on the battered roads. No lights. Mobiles are all down. My pain is increasing by the second and my vomiting is non-stop. Heavens! Am I destined to die this way??? 

With every move of the vehicle, my scream was hitting higher decibels. The roads were adding to the pain.

With the balance 6% charge, my hubby called the resort (finally!!!) I was throughout asking him to do that which he refused to listen! And the guy on the other end did not know where we were in spite of us giving some “landmarks” in an unknown, God forsaken land! Not sure how we got guided to the destination. Reached the resort at 1:45 AM. Phew!

I thought all will be well after I get to crash on the bed. The climax was yet to come. My hubby asked if we should go to a doc nearby. Since the roads were so terrible, I instantly refused saying I would be ok if I am left to lie down and sleep for a while. But sleep was not written for me that night (and for him as well!).

By 3:30 AM, I could not take it any longer. I said let us go wherever but I want this pain to stop. Back of mind my speculations revealed that it could be “kidney stones”. My sister had had similar symptoms years back. I had used the rule of exclusions. Nothing else could be it. With the help of the resort stewards, we went to a near-by clinic (10 kms away from our place of stay).

Screaming and vomiting continued all through! Never in my dreams would I get into such a hospital. Such was the maintenance standards of the hospital. Terrible! But when one is in pain, none of this matter! The duty doc came in checked and declared it was indeed ‘kidney stones”. He injected me twice and the pain stopped like magic. Vomiting stopped. I slept immediately. After observing for 20 mins he let us go.

The next day, I took a day of rest. Family had to tend to me. So, no outing, no sight-seeing. There was only one sight for all of them to see…me gradually recovering from the 7 hour non-stop pain! They were all just relieved with that!!

Next day we all set out and came back to Chennai! What an adventurous journey this was!!

Silver lining in this episode – this did not happen while I was traveling in a flight to or from the US; this did not happen while I was away from family on work.

Life is short. Life is unpredictable. Let us enjoy as long as it lasts!

Acha - My tribute to you!

Either we talk of the world famous M-I-L, D-I-L squabbles and quarrels, or we wonder how this duo make life heaven for the sandwiched man. Rarely in a marriage there is any mention of the person called the “father-in-law”. If at all, it is very limited. Or there is quite a bit of character assassination that this particular role goes through. So, when I got married, I too had very less expectations from my own father-in-law.

My hubby and sisters called him “Achan”. And, I followed suit. He was a man of few words. I had attributed this to the facts that we did not know each other’s languages and he must be a closed person. And hence, I don’t think I made any attempt to strike a conversation with him in the initial stages. As I write this post, my eyes are getting moist. If God took away my father at a very early age from me, I did not realize, He had given me this F-I-L who was multiple times what my own father would have been!

In the first 2 years of my married life, his role was very limited. He was staying in his hometown. So, we used to meet only once in 3 months. He would ask cursory questions and we would get on with our chores. Very gradually, I started building my rapport with him. I saw him cleaning the toilet one day and was quite surprised. He had come to visit us for a week then. As soon as he came home, he looked around and started the cleaning process. I did not expect him to clean our toilets as well!

Just while I tried to put this across to him struggling to explain this in his language, he kind of gave an understanding smile and said “You both are working. It is our house. We should not see dignity of labor. It is ok. I must be of some use, after all!” All this my hubby translated later on. I was moved. I started seeing the principles behind this man!

My first son was born and I needed support in raising him. So, my in-laws migrated to “our” house. We, in this generation, the supposedly highly-educated, computer savvy, IT folks do not see most things at face value. Our analysis-paralysis gets applied at the home front too. We are actually meek-minded and we think there are calculations behind every step that people take. We don’t spare our own parents and in-laws also from this suspicion. We cannot think straight. We are used to reading between lines. Simply put, we are not simple…but a bunch of simpletons! What else do you call people who keep sensing hidden agenda behind every move?

I was one! But time taught me (though early on) how sacrificing and selfless my in-laws were. The kinds of sacrifices that they made just to ensure I continued with my career are truly immeasurable. All my guesses about them were absolutely wrong. I was put to shame by their generosity and large-heartedness. Now, I am not sure if I would be saying “they” had it not been for a person like my F-I-L.

Every time there was a tiff in the house, every time my M-I-L and I fought, argued, cried, ranted, my F-I-L was the referee. He would be so just. He would command my M-I-L to shut up. That gave me great pleasure. He would advice me in a very kind tone. He would take me aside and tell me, “You are highly educated (!). You are seeing so much in the world. Your M-I-L is totally ignorant. She knows nothing but the four walls of her house, her only son (my hubby), her two daughters, her husband (in that order). And hence there is no point in making her see reason or rhyme in any kind of a dealing. So, it is better that we decide whatever is good for the family. There are families where the M-I-L & D-I-L cannot even see eye to eye. Fortunately, you both bond very well otherwise. These are trivial things. Can you not just ignore and get on with life?” Now, how would one react to this kind advice? He has never raised his voice even once. But he has always made me see what is right and wrong in a very logical way. He has been extremely patient in handling 2 strong women, both of different ages and groups, very successfully. The family engine was well-oiled by this NLC foreman, who was not a great academician but a sound rationalist and abundantly well-read person.

Not only between his wife and me, he settled scores between my hubby and me, he ensured both his daughters lived a normal life with their husbands. He used to take the right examples and explain any tough concept to one and all at home. Such was his wisdom!

When we try to contact an electrician to fix a fan, he would resist. He will sweat it out and fix it himself. If it was a plumbing problem, he will ensure he sets it right. Some carpentry to be done? He would be right there with his tool-kit. Garden is shabby? Don’t know where to put what in the garden? He was the go-to person. Child not behaving properly? Ask Achan. He will know how to handle. Problems at work? Check with him. He will know what kind of action can help. He was truly a “one-stop-shop” solution for all issues at home.

No one would believe that he had 3 huge ailments – BP, Diabetes and Asthma. He was so active till his last day. Yes. For a man who had been suffering health problems for more than 40 years, the single biggest medication was practicing Yoga and Meditation. Every morning he would perform this yoga/meditation for an hour. And then only have his morning tea. Such discipline is rare to find! Whenever his health goes down, we would recommend we see a doctor. He would decline. He would say, “For such small disturbances if we end up seeing doctors, there is no point at all! Let me treat myself with home remedies.” He himself would tell us when it is time to get to the doctor. And that will be when he cannot take it any further. He did not want us to spend our time, energy and most importantly money on him. There are times when we have feared the worst. But he would pull out all his IV fluids on day 3 and tell us, “Let us not help the hospitals become richer. Discharge me right away.” The next day morning you can find him doing his yoga-as-usual!!!

May be this confidence and conviction that he had about his own health is what made us laid back?! He was active till his last breath. Last week, as ill-luck may have it, while he was all alone in Kerala, he had breathing difficulties and an elevated temperature. He visited the doctor as an outpatient. He called us on a Sunday and said he is getting worse. We could only tell him that he had to get admitted. He did after much pleading and persuasion. He suffered for 2 nights and 2 days in the hospital. The 3rd night in the hospital he passed away peacefully! While we were still traveling to get to his place and be with him as moral support, he did just what he believed in. He did not make us run around. He did not allow us to spend on his medication. He did not stay bed-ridden for even a day. He was moving about till the last day. As we were told by our relatives who were attending on him, “Even when we got him to the ICU, he got down from the stretcher and lay down on the bed himself. He did not expect help.” What do we call this man? Is it an exaggeration to say he was my best friend, great philosopher and unassuming guide?