The commencement of the Dream List

Just three more days till I complete two months. Today has been amazingly special. I realized how you can be at peace (in your mind), yet engaged with the world at the same time. You don’t have to cut off and sit somewhere in the mountains to learn to train your mind, ask questions about society and life; and practice what you are reading. Today I made a new document, called the Dream List. I have always been a dreamer; thanks to life which made me one. My mom keeps saying to my dad and me, “bus hawa me baatein karte rehte ho tum dono”.  I love to dream more than I want to achieve those dreams. I really do. I do not yearn to conquer these; but just to dream these. Conquest is in dreaming. Like I am not restless to go out and do them; but at peace to dream them, knowing I have the will, resources and excitement to do these, if I actually go out and try. So what does it start with? For the last week, I have been wanting to explore certain places of spiritual inclination, like the Brahma Kumaris center in Mt. Abu. I have intermittently listened to Sister Shivani and quite a bit has been convincing to me. I recently read that they encourage meditation with open eyes! Can you believe that? Then I have always wanted to go to Varanasi; not really to embark on my own spiritual journey, but to observe and participate with those who practice to understand one of the different strands of how Hinduism comes to be practiced. I missed the trip to the Radhasoami Satsang (Dera) at Beas when I visited Amritsar and would definitely like to get a glimpse. Maybe or maybe not, because I have been participating in Radhasoami Satsang, Dayalbagh for a long time. Today my restless mind wanted to wonder to the Himalayas. A person with zero stamina, I went on searching for short treks (3 days max!), or may be no treks but a walk. I know its a lot to desire, especially when walking uphill in the icy winter in Ithaca, leaves me with allergies and, breathless. (The sight may be breathless, but I am actually huffing and puffing in ten minutes!). Still I dream. I don’t fear dreaming, I don’t fear not being able to do them, I don’t fear in sharing my madness. I don’t fear in being who I am. 

Of the many amazing things I have been reading; I really liked this one. Vedantic philosophy mentions to ‘study’, ‘mediate and contemplate’ and ‘apply’.  It was eureka. We hear people study and meditate, but how much do we practice? Practicing is the hardest. But its easy when you’re convinced about what you have studied. Like I have heard myself snap at my mom, dad and sister so many times; or raise my voice, or get angry, or found my mind restless, full of thoughts in search of immediate gratification. I find myself worrying, anxious, fearful; and worst, thinking negative. It’s a constant struggle; but I have begun stage one: ‘self-awareness’.  That’s the hardest perhaps to perceive. I have begun asking myself, ‘what is the real cause of this emotion?’ Many times the cause is ‘attachment’; or better yet, what the Upanishads would say: ‘ignorance/avidya’. Knowledge of one’s self and knowledge of reality is something I am studying. There are many ways to study, or sources of knowledge (still figuring that out, I need to read more on this).  Like hearing from others, reading books, learning from experience (both internal and material), intuition, and perception of the external world. Meditation and contemplation go together. I was never aware of this. I like this line I read, saying that, without contemplation, meditation is a mental exercise and without mediation, contemplation is imagination (Tigunait, 1983).  I am so grateful to have met Jayasri, who introduced me to meditation. I hope I can always attend her guided mediation classes, every Thursday, 8:45 pm and keep learning from her. The greatest pleasures of life are next door, you just have to make some effort. 

Though I have not meditated much, whatever little I have done; has been life changing. Yes, sounds like a big word, but its true. Life doesn’t change materially but experientially. Its something you can only feel; like a heightened awareness; an emancipation; not like ‘I got this, or achieved that’. Its also not a sudden thing; its gradual and slow. The change is like a bit; but that kind of change is a big change in itself. Today, I heard some Ted Talks by Matthieu Ricard; who said that we should grow qualitatively, not quantitatively. That’s the kind of change I feel. Like poor me, recently my anxieties had grown; and I am always a worrier and have trust issues. But I saw these things change. I judge people much less now. I am transforming my negative thoughts to positive ones. Meditation; along with study and self-reflection and contemplation doesn’t make you change yourself, it just makes your mind calm, so you can be more aware of your thoughts and feelings; hence decide consciously what to do and what not to. So it didn’t make me less anxious, it just helped me know that this is when I am likely to feel anxious, so lets be prepared and work with it. It didn’t make me less judgmental directly; it just helped me know that ‘this is the point where I am judging, so lets stop here’. Its like a red light which lights up at moments where the conscience feels it is necessary to intervene. A calm mind has greater faith in life; and that’s really a key to feeling in control and happy. The last time I felt wisdom dawn upon me was when I turned 26 (and celebrated my birthday almost alone, only with my boss). For the first time ever, there was no cake(s), no balloons, no friends, little external cheer. It was me, my wisdom and my sense of acceptance of how things turned out. It didn’t feel too good, but prepared me that the journey onwards will be more realistic. And today as I turn 32 (two days left); a tiny dose of the vast universe of wisdom has come to welcome me again.

It seems that meditation is guided by an eastern philosophy. There are many kinds of meditations; guided by different philosophies. Mindfulness is also a tip of the iceberg; like concentrating on cutting vegetables when cooking (hence, staying away from music or anything that removes you from concentrating on a single activity/thought). Yesterday, I was confronted by this intellectually overwhelming question of what is Hinduism? Sounds similar to this exercise I took up 12 years back, thinking of what is distinct about India, what is Indian? Agnes (1999) writes how the category of ‘Hindu’ has been constructed by those outside of India, denoting anyone who was non-Muslim. Colonial/western/modern discourse has been a powerful tool in creating concepts, universalizing categories, documenting, systematizing, referring to written texts and separating different spheres of life (economy, morality, family). Such a craft requires you to step outside a context to look at it; analytically you have to separate yourself in order to see what you are conceptualizing. So is there anything Hindu? I don’t think so. Moreover, I argue that one cannot use the category of Hindu as a religious category (which most sociologists agree); hence cannot compare it with (other) religions. Simply: you can’t compare apples with oranges. Back to Agnes, she writes how laws developed during the colonial period have created a legal fiction about Hindus and Muslims because they, (a) are rooted in their respective scriptures (which actually gave importance to custom over scripture); (b) create a belief that these communities are homogenous, (c) divide these communities on the basis of religion, overriding caste, sect and region and (d) provide no space for the role of customary law, which is evolving (page 43). That brings me to my favorite discovery so far: how the concept of ‘diversity’ in India is so organic; we are born in it and experience it; unlike the west which is struggling to ‘define’ it; ‘conceptualize’ it, in order to figure out ways to best ‘practice’ it; hence looks at it from the outside.

As one question is answered, 20 more come up instantly. Why are we interested in knowing the origin of things? Can there be a confluence of knowledge of self with knowledge of society? How to carefully tread between being an insider and outsider to both oneself and to society? How does the sociologist come to terms with and explain ones own faith? Like where is faith something inexplicable by society; and where is it a creation of society? If Brahman creates the world; then why are we convinced that Brahman is self-created or cannot be created (infinite)? Are we really scared of death or socialized to be so? How to measure multidimensional concepts like gender in practice? Why did the writers of the Ramayana and Mahabharata not have daughters in their epics (or ignore this)? Is kanyadaan not as universal as we have believed? Where son preference has been strong, is the value of daughters really increasing?

Lost in transience...

Six weeks have passed. I remember the doctor’s brochure said that with an incision, it would take 4-6 weeks to heal. I don’t know if my mind was playing games but exactly two days before it was the 6^th week; for the first time I had forgotten I had an incision (I forgot to put the antibiotic on it and was getting up quickly from the bed). And yes, after six weeks, it didn’t pain when I turned over in my sleep. And I was doing the things I would do on a regular Sunday, sort clothes, wash clothes, iron clothes and of course, pack clothes (packing, always constant). I felt I was back to myself, I was running around and doing things quicker than I did in January (such an amazing feeling). Though I did end up having a few bouts of pain before I slept L.

The story so far. The last few weeks had been frustrating. I didn’t want to feel ‘unable’ anymore. Bitter sweet house arrest. I wanted to go outside and take an auto and go to Dilli Haat to shop and eat. I wanted to be the empowered Delhi girl who does what she enjoys, when she enjoys, with whom she enjoys. This was different from what the first two weeks were, when I knew I was not really able and I didn’t want to be able. But now, amidst the pampering and protection, I wanted to be back to myself now. And another thought loomed over me. Its not just what we think of ourself, as how we are; but also how others label us. That’s the worst! I have been thought of as ‘ill’. But I question now, was I ill? People say, ‘don’t do this, you are ill (beemar)’. There isn’t just a difference in being sick and having a special position because of something you are going through, rather it’s a continuum. Paradoxically, the one who is closer to the ‘less able side’ isn’t  considered to be worthy to be heard about what that side thinks. Men decide kitchen designs, when women largely use them. Men roll out toilet schemes, when its largely women who clean them (this should be another write up). Okay, an example for the non-feminists then.

Think of pregnancy. What a torture to be pregnant and have everyone treat you differently to a point that you cant distinguish if it is because you need to avoid a normal environment or because you need special care. When you experience a condition longer than you can take it and others keep making you believe that this doesn’t make you fully able as you would be if you were not in this situation, then its frustrating. I went back to Parsons’ theory, of how the sick are ‘expected’ to be back to how they were before sickness. I didn’t just deal with my frustration of not being able to be as energetic and smooth as I have been (real or imagined); but also with everyone treating me with special care. To protect is one thing, to over protect is another. There is always a tussle between what we want and what others apparently want for us. But who really knows what’s best for us? Many times, instinct triumphs. The Upanishads say that knowledge of the self is the greatest source of joy; and the highest goal of life (Tigunait, 1983).

I went to a super rude homeopathic doc. His words just reinforced my dislike for the medical profession, that they think of those who come to them, as ‘cases’ or ‘objects’. Again I had that feeling when you define your worth by what you have and what role you play for society. I have a uterus, hence it is but ‘natural’ for me to want a child. He didn’t even seem to want to know my choice and assumed it as if there is no question of a choice here. For the first time I felt like those desperate Indian couples who go to babas so that they (the couple) can bear a son. Quickly, he got busy suggesting that its not just a preventive medicine I need to take, but also one to ‘prepare the bed’.  Things happen for a reason; and this also happened so that I definitely don’t take those homeopathic pills! Its not about wanting to prepare the bed or not, but I believe in something beyond our control. You have to trust life. There is something beyond medicine; which is more powerful. Medicine too fails.

Society has its ways of being. Why does it attach stigma to ‘infertility’ (the word itself is horrible)? What meanings do doctors and the community attach to perceiving who is infertile? Why is there so much resistance to adoption? Isn’t it an act of compassion and practical at the same time! More than a year ago, I met a student from the Plant Sciences Department and she asked me what I worked on. I said ‘fertility’. She said ‘soil fertility?’ and I laughed, saying no, like fertility among people, like how many children they have, do they prefer sons or daughters. Someone like me who remains undecided whether to have biological children, experienced that stigma. I had doctors who went on to thinking that my husband and me may have infertility problems, without even asking us about our preferences or practices. I mean it, when I say doctors. Either our children obsessed society is breathing the fear of declining fertility or increasing infertility (if that’s true). What do children mean to us? Reminds of this advertisement doing the rounds lately where the lady says, ‘motherhood is a choice’. We take for granted the long and persistent efforts of activists in our history who made us believe that some things can be a ‘choice’.  Imagine how painful it would feel for me if I had been wanting a child for so long and had all these doctors victimizing me and my husband for ‘infertility’. 

I also met medical professionals who took it on their own to assume that I should have had a child by now; yet others who said, ‘you have some time’. It doesn’t matter if you conform to the ‘average’ (rather, the constructed ‘ideal’) when it comes to the ‘time’; but what matters is to accept and respect that everyone has their own time of what and when things happen. And it always doesn’t have to happen. Again, the tussle between the individual and society.  Then I thought about the greatest contention of our times, ‘when is the best time to have children’! Lets play the role of the researcher now. Rule one, you cannot make general conclusions for anything. Rule two, its super hard to arrive at causal inferences. I don’t even think you really can (except for pure medicine, but medicine isn’t pure, its layered with society). Rule three, the role of history and context makes comparison difficult. And the rules don’t end. Why the difference between those who feel one should have a child by a specific age and others who say you have time? As a sociologist I made an attempt to answer this. Perhaps those medical professionals who say you have time are those who are well versed with managing complications, which earlier had greater chances of fatality. Many gynecologists work closely with/or are experts in emergency obstetric care and with neonatologists and those facilities equipped with advanced neonatal care units. They are also being increasingly trained to manage such cases. Equipment, medicine and transport are available. The industry is becoming super specialized. Moreover, many gynecologists may be working closely to with ‘fertility experts/centers’.  I mean this is their job, their passion, they are there for us to have children. (Sounds funny, but a nurse at a fertility clinic bluntly said this to me). Mothers (and fathers)-to be are more educated and empowered to take care of their health; perhaps more likely to adhere to routine check ups and supplements. Maybe parents of daughters are closer or better connected to help out if needed? Have the parents of daughters changed in terms of what role they feel they can play and what daughters expect from them or what they expect from their daughters?

For this year, I had two wishes, wished in November last year. I want to learn to talk nicely when I am frustrated or angry or irritable and not snap at family members. I also yearned to have a hemoglobin of 12. I dreamt of that day when it would be 12 and I would celebrate (literally celebrate!). My birthday doesn’t give me that (external) joy than the (internal) joy of Hb 12.  The number 12 is still important! It’s a yearning only I understand. And just as I was drowning myself in my unableness; I was immersed into a sudden joy with the latest blood test report. I was hoping it was a 10.5 or expecting something that would keep me yearning for that big dream of mine; and like a student elates with the admission letter of getting into their dream college, I cannot express what I felt to see 12, two weeks before the illusionary 12^th  (March). I still cannot believe it (and people think getting into a big college or being offered a high salary is an achievement! Oh please!). But my wish has not ended there, now I need to ‘sustain’ it. Keeping that 12, will keep me going; as much as that 12 will (literally) keep me going. By the way, this needle didn’t hurt a bit. I never even had a tiny apprehension before I sat on that chair.

Recently I read something that said, that the weak mind sees/feels things as problems, the balanced mind, as challenges and the strong mind, as opportunities. And this has been an opportunity. Not flaunting that I have a strong mind, but feeling hopeful that the mind can be made stronger. Its given me the opportunity to embark on my journey of self reflection and self awareness. To learn to control my irritations and frustration; to stop questioning the causes but focusing on experiencing the moments that come and addressing difficult times. I learnt so much about how society thinks about someone who is not able to perform expected roles; and the myths about iron. I learnt so much about iron, vitamin C, calcium and sugars myself. Like when thinking about iron intake, we overlook iron absorption. You may take lots of iron, but if you are not taking vitamin C, which helps in its absorption or if you are taking calcium, which inhibits its absorption, then you are taking it in vain. So that’s why I plan to take iron with orange juice in the night and calcium in the morning. But calcium isn’t absorbed without vitamin D, and too much of vitamin D (which gets stored in the liver), can be toxic. So vitamin D supplements are not to be taken too much in a year. Supplements are different from those vitamins and minerals, which have ‘therapeutic use’. You can have a good Hb, but your iron stores can be lower. And all anemia isn’t iron deficiency anemia. Medicine may rest on positivistic thought (empirics, logic); but the human body is beyond that. Its beyond science. 

The story doesn’t end here. I still have saris to wear (still cant wear transparent saris!), flights to catch, clothes to carry to the machine to wash, heavy groceries to buy, lunches and dinners to cook, books to carry, and daily walks. External joy is ephemeral, but real joy is eternal. Like my instincts tell me, that by the time I step into that hot air balloon, I would have transcended that elation. 

That hot air balloon!

Its been two weeks since I got off the OT table; but more than a couple of months since I have been thinking about this mini-adventure. 

One thing I never asked was ‘why?’ Like why did this happen to me. I did end up rationalizing that it happened for many good reasons. In the last few months, I got 12 injection pricks (two were wrong attempts/mistakes)! Yup, this is me. I remember, a year and half ago when I had to get some immunizations and I was so scared, I kept postponing them till I got a notice from the university that they would cancel my registration if I didn’t get the immunizations. I waited till Shubh came and got them. I started from someone who couldn’t sleep a night before I had to get a needle, and by the 11^th needle I began to believe that my fear had drastically reduced. At least I wouldn’t worry a night before. But don’t know why during the 12^th prick, I again had a sleepless night before. So was the surgery not a life-changing event?

So I was getting my blood drawn in Ithaca and the nurse had the world map in her room and told me that once I am done, I could mark which place I am from (Delhi had already been marked though!!). It had just been a month or so for the map she had put up and it was dotted from all over the world. We talked about love for humanity and just before I left, she said, ‘I have drawn blood from so many people from around the world and there is only one thing I have seen, we all have the same blood. We are all the same’. Now who wouldn’t want a needle to hear such inspiring words and believe in a world where diversity thrives in unity. I still have some more follow up needles waiting with smiles. And this time, I will go alone. Till now I always had Shubh or my mom around. But for the next, they will not be there.

The other day, we watched a TED talk, in which the speaker (who was an astronaut) mentioned that there is a difference between danger and fear. He asked why so many people dream and work hard to go into space, when the chances of survival are not universal. Most of us rational people know that what we fear isn’t really dangerous. But fear remains, how can we tackle fear with this reasoning? I don’t know. Till I got the surgery, I worked really hard to understand myself, to reflect and understand my fears and anxieties. I really began to harbor this hope that after the surgery, I would be a changed person. I would have learnt to deal with my fears and anxieties. Time will only tell.

There were two most (MOST) scary moments I went through. Don’t know which was scarier, but they really scared me through and through. Its not something you want to do again, though I know if I have to go through these, I will and I will survive through it. They say ignorance is bliss. I agree. I didn’t know what was coming up and that made every moment something to think about that time and not anticipate beforehand (something which I love doing). So I was ready in that hospital gown to go for the MRI and was relaxed since I thought it’s like a CT scan, which I had got two months ago. The CT was friendly and quick (except I had got an IV line for the first time, thankfully not this time for the MRI).  When I lied down, I asked the technician how long I would lie down and he said ‘around half an hour’. That’s when I freaked out. I told myself, its okay, just sleep. Then he said, ‘it will be noisy and I will give you headphones’. I was like, ‘okay’. OKAY. They rolled me through the cylindrical opening till I asked ‘is this all, will my head not be out on the other side’. He said, ‘this is all it goes’. And that’s when I realized that I was one of those claustrophobic people; no one can EVER sleep with such anxiety. I never opened my eyes too see what I was lying in. I had the deepest anxiety I have EVER experienced. I cannot believe I survived it. They had told me that if I move, it would take longer. So in desperation, I lied straight, eyes closed tightly, headphones on, not having the slightest clue of the kind of sounds I would hear or what would happen. He gave me the ‘bell’ and then, for the first time in my life I realized how it feels to have no one, nothing. No phone. No person. No idea of what would happen. I couldn’t even open my eyes in fear or move. Not the kind of experience we often get. The last thing I asked him was, ‘my mom is outside right?’. He said yes. That was the only solace.

Those 40 minutes were not as long as an anxious person would feel so. As I closed my eyes, I thought of Atman and Brahman, and when they unite, it is Ananda. Ananda or delight, is where the knower, the known and the knowledge become one (Radhakrishnan, 1923/2008). “There must be something higher than mere intellect, where existence is no longer formulated in terms of knowledge” (pp 130). I went back to my Indian philosophy book (read: Hindu philosophy) and thought of everything I had read. It was really comforting. I meditated. I asked questions, I wondered what those 200 pages I had read meant to me. I reflected on the ideas of the Upanishads. That’s what really prepared me. For the last few months, I had started meditating. When the mind is calm, not restless, the mind relaxes; perhaps it helps us deal with our anxieties and fears. During the MRI, I felt that when we divert our mind to something we enjoy, like going to the beach, we are not making the mind the calm, and it’s akin to being restless. So instead of bringing in positive thoughts from the external world, I felt it’s more peaceful to focus our mind on internal calmness. This is a big thing I learnt that day.

I don’t know when I fell into the anesthetic sleep. I have to admit that was one of my biggest anxieties (the other, of course, needles). I do remember when I was loosening out of it. Thankfully I had met the anesthetist a week ago. Post-surgery, I remember him saying, ‘Isha, open your mouth’ and a tube coming out from my mouth. Then for those couple of seconds, I breathed heavy. I almost struggled. That was the first time ever, I felt this urge, this desperation, to live. I wanted to breath. I couldn’t feel a single part of my body, my eyes were not fully open, but my mind was loudly screaming to keep breathing. I told myself to trust this place. Which place can be safer than an operation theatre! They wont let you die here! They also gave me an oxygen mask. A few days later, I kept recalling of this moment, not that one should experience it, but it’s only something you can experience, not describe. It reminded me of that scene in The Dark Knight Rises (2012), where the girl is able to make a life-saving jump, only because she didn’t fear death. Then it made me question how we so much fear death (with our life!). I went back to those words that my mom and me would talk about, again, borrowing from Hindu philosophy. Kaam, krodh, moh, lobh, ahankar. Desire, anger, attachment, greed and ego. We are so materialistic. Its not just objects, but also our body. We don’t want to let go of these. Death is our greatest fear. How does one stop fearing death? I don’t know.

I was reading the ways to tackle anxiety before surgery. I learnt two very important things. One is to trust your doctor and secondly, to trust yourself. Look at miss Isha, who already has trust issues, had to go out and trust. Trust the system, the doctor and yourself. It’s really hard for some people. Every day I had to remind myself to trust my doctor. I was preparing myself for months. And to top it all, they give you an anti-anxiety medicine a night before: woo hoo! I wonder what really saved me! The say fear is really the fear of being unable to control. And yes, for control freaks like me, that was a FEAR! I was lucky that I was at a mother and child hospital. It reverberated with positive energy. Everywhere were quiet babies wrapped up so warm and pregnant women excited for their antenatal checkups. So it didn’t make me feel much as a ‘patient’, who is sick, at a hospital, with other sick people. It felt like the place where I could come again with a smile!

You don’t know what you have till you don’t have it. The third day in the hospital, they made me walk. When I took those few steps, they opened the window blinds and after two days, I had looked outside. I saw trees and the cars. I saw life. It almost felt like a revelation. There was a world out there. That’s when I wanted to get up and get out there. I wanted to live life. And that’s when I had this deep desire to ride a hot air balloon. I still do and I will. When I would lie in the bed in the hospital, with no energy to do anything much, I would dream to live life. To live it the best, to be calm, peaceful, loving, energetic and motivated. I wanted to conquer it. It was such a deep desire. Ironically, this desire is the deepest when its almost impossible to do it. When you are back on track, the desire weakens! On the second evening, I got paneer bhurji for dinner and trust me, that was the best paneer bhurji I have ever had. It tingled my taste buds. I remember when the first night they said, ‘you will get a few sips of water’. I was like ‘wow, I will get a FEW SIPS of water, bring it on!’ Felt like I was going to party! Then the next night, when they said, you will start a normal diet, I just wanted to leap out of the bed with excitement to BITE, yes, bite food. I wanted to savor food, chew it (I had been on a liquid diet for three days).  No one knows what a gift it is to be able to bite into food, to chew and taste the multiple textures.

The last morning, my nurse Blessy asked me, ‘will you remember me?’ and I said, ‘of course, I will tell everyone about you’. She said, ‘you don’t have to tell everyone about me, you can just remember me’. Her humility defeated my arrogance. For the first time in my life, I began to RESPECT this profession and work, hospitals, nurses, doctors, medicine. My ignorance and apprehension turned into respect. You know when I saw the hospital bill I was so surprised. There is such a big difference in the cost of the doctors visits and in the service of the nurses. Nurses are around you the whole time, they are the ones who give you the most comfort. You can tell the nurse you don’t want to drink milk or get another needle shot. She asks you if you are having gas or if you want to pee. The nurse sponges you in the wake of morning. She gets as intimate as one would be to oneself. But society has a cruel way to reward specialized knowledge over humane care. Moreover, patients are thankless themselves.

You know I have developed so much gratitude for people around me over the past years; but there was another truth I realized during this adventure. I realized that you are alone during a medical procedure. You alone bear the pain and discomfort. You are the only one who experiences this and who reflects. You are the one who heals, who learns not to take much for granted. You are deprived, yet you are given a special role of the sick. But its only you, you alone. And alone, you experience how amazing the body recovers everyday. EVERY DAY. Yes, there is nothing more peaceful than being able to understand your body. It tells you. It’s your friend.

We take so many things for granted. Yes, all plug points are always below and for someone learning to bend again, even putting your phone on charge is a daunting task. I have to thank learning Odissi (dance), by which I learnt to touch the floor without bending forward! Have you worn socks while standing up? The hardest of all was getting out the bed. Almost everything we do requires bending, pushing, pulling, holding something heavy…from lightly washing clothes, to opening doors, covering yourself completely with the razai. Everyday you achieve something, today I can take a shower, today I can wash my hair, today I can climb down the stairs, today I can pick up something that fell on the floor, today I can sit on the floor…and there are many more milestones ahead for me! Over two weeks, I took 20 different kinds of medicines and supplements. Yes, kinds! All the general stuff, all stuffed up in my body. You know when you are young, you can take A LOT. It’s amazing. Are you still thinking about the 20 kinds? Hmm, painkillers, antibiotics, then for acidity, gas, vomiting, anxiety, and sleep; anti-pyretic (paracetemol), laxatives, misoprostol, probiotic, anti-histamines (my favorite; talk about people having favorite medicines!); calcium, iron, D3, multivitamins, vitamin C, lozenges for cough, antiseptic (though not orally taken) and to top it all off, I thought to consider homeopathic (Indians will be Indians)! And all these are when I was in a conscious state! There are multiple forms of knowledge, even for medicine, and no one can be right. Who even knows if there is a right!

During these days, I was constantly reminded of sociologist Talcott Parsons work on the social role of the sick in society. I can’t remember when I read it, either in my Bachelors or Masters. He distinguishes four features of the ‘role of the sick’ in society (1951). The sick person is exempted from performing his normal social obligations, he/she is not expected to be entirely responsible to get well or ‘pull himself together’; it’s a state which is socially undesirable and one is given the privileges of being sick as long as one ‘cant help it’, hence is expected to recover quickly; and lastly, the sick are defined in being ‘in need of help’.

I asked many questions to myself, I saw many differences in healthcare systems. I experienced gender in multiple and new ways. The hospital gown was purple (though purple as gendered, is a subject of debate!). Outside rooms where girls where born, they had put up pink cards and ribbons and outside rooms where boys were born, the ribbons and cards were blue. Interestingly, if you go into the history of the symbolic expression of gender in the west, it used to be the opposite, pink for boys, blue for girls. Why? Lets leave that as homework! If you have a surgery of your tonsils or a fracture, its agendered, so it’s easy to talk about and share with members of the family. But history is a witness to how we have ignored, suppressed or shied away from talking about issues, which we see exclusively as ‘WOMEN’S’. It was about my uterus and I, nor did my family want it to be a discussion over tea among other members of the family. I questioned what is a women, is she one who does not have a uterus? Is she one who chooses not to be a mother? Do all women feel like having biological children? Who is a woman? I don’t know. But these questions, always poignant, light a fire in me, to stand strong and be the change that I want to see.  

The surgery didn’t leave me with much difficulty, as much as the (severe) anemia. But anemia is a woman’s thing, and doesn’t get that kind of attention (unlike cholesterol, which is projected as a man’s thing, though affects both sexes). Its only when you are severely anemic that you realize how debilitating it can be. And since men can never realize it, who knows how we will ever address it with seriousness. Women do a lot of work and it exhausts us badly. Imagine having to sit quiet for hours since talking exhausts your body. I even struggled to sit QUIET but it didn’t last long. Now what excuse do you give to people for the fatigue you experience every day. The doctor says I got to wait at least three months till I can dance. Little did I anticipate that, the strong me was no more physically strong (temporarily). I began to yearn to dance, to climb, to have energy to be back to the kind of person I have always been. This mini-adventure did not shake my mental energy. That’s why I am looking forward to that hot air balloon!