When you write about something like bypass surgery most people expect a Readers’ Digest-ish paean to the human spirit.
Friend Vikram Rajaram was one of many readers surprised by the levity of tone and profusion of bawdy and naughty bits in my account. He also had a fair question.
“What gives one the strength?”
As with most questions there is a short answer and a long answer. The short answer involves a cow. But the long answer first.
You get your strength, my friend, from those around you. The family rally around. All families do. To what extent they comprehend what is happening, beyond a universal dread of major surgery, makes a difference. All families deal with adversity. Knowing how well equipped yours is, helps.
Being in a position to pick and choose the people, the place and the timing for the procedure, helps. Having the family participate in this process, helps.
The patient, eventually, has to do nothing. Everyone else deserves a great vote of thanks.
Kusum and Alok, first, for dealing skilfully, lovingly and patiently with a difficult person. An even more difficult patient.
Favourite cardiologist Dr. Sugandhi Gopal who determined that it was time to determine what was going on. Dr. Subhash Chandra who actually did the angiography. Friends in the medical profession who guided the decision process after the angiogram. Dr. M M Chengappa, Dr Anu Chengappa, Dr. Ramana Rao and Dr. Mysore Nagendran. Thank you, all.
Getting a surgical team who are as good as any in the world, and can talk to you all the way to and through the entire process, really helps. Hats off to Dr. Ganesh Iyer, and his colleagues, Dr. Gangadhar and Dr. Bhaskar, at the Manipal hospital. Many thanks for your skills, and more for your empathy.
Getting a service team at the hospital that constantly delivers beyond expectations and beyond the call of duty, is worth far more than one imagines. Most of them come from God’s own country, Kerala. And serve humanity, from Bangalore to Benghazi to Baltimore, like no other people do. One day some future Margaret Mead will research and explain this phenomenon. For now, unlimited and never-ending gratitude to the Florences and Angels, too numerous to list.
A salute to the physiotherapists who led the recovery effort. The comforting Prem, the persuasive Sakshi and the provocative Palak. They also laid down a lifelong exercise regime for me to follow. To be candid, I resent that last bit a bit.
Those who donated blood. Lawrence Tony, Vinoo Krishnan, Indu Das, and Abha Jhol. How do I thank you adequately, for this ultimate gift?
One person who packs a sturdy soul in a compact frame, daughter-in-law Priyanka, does not feature in this account as she was hijacked by an itinerant virus. She was with us all in spirit all through.
Some of those whom I have lost, came to visit me disguised as thoughts. Au revoir.
The most difficult time for the family is when the actual procedure is on. Those unending six hours are pure agony for those outside. Thank you Santosh Jhol, for bringing it home to me in stark terms, when the procedure was still being scheduled.
Those who came in that day and sat by with Kusum and Alok helped more than anyone else. To bro-in-law Satish Khanna, aunty Gayatri Seth, uncle Rajinder Seth, and honorary family members, Abha Jhol and Vikram Rajaram, a heartfelt thank you. Nowhere near enough I know. Vikram, you’ve stood by us all through the very difficult year and half that we have just gone through.
That is the kind of support that one draws strength from.
And inner strength?
That is where the cow comes in.When I was five or so my parents decided that a daughter added to the two sons they had would complete the family. In due course a bonnie lass was born.
While the rest of us were fed regular milk that came from a cow, she, after being weaned, was fed some concoction that came in a “Made In England” tin, which bore the strange name “Cow & Gate”. The label depicted a pastoral landscape featuring a well endowed cow and a gate leading, presumably, to a farm.
At some stage a parent explained that the delicious, creamish and sweetish powder was made from vacuum dried cow’s milk and secret ingredient ‘x’, which made it better than the actual stuff you bought from the local guy with his harem of cows.
It took a while, but I finally understood that there was just no way to establish that the stuff could actually make your child stronger. It was just a matter of perception.
That is what inner strength is. A matter of perception. You are strong if you think you are. Not if not.
PS: There is a question raised by many readers who found my use of the diminutive and inclusive personal pronoun ‘we’ in place of the megalomaniacal and egoistic “I”. All I can say is that that is how it came to me as I sat down to write. No offence meant.
