From the hospital

I veer between happiness and dread as mom is wheeled out of the ICU.

I squeeze myself into the lift, along with the hospital staff with mom on a gurney and follow her to the hospital room.

It has been a long journey for her from the ventilator to the ICU to the hospital room. Even as relief washes over me, worry tags along uninvited. How will we manage, I wonder, out of the ICU? Without the blinking monitor that has become a friend of sorts, the one we stared at endlessly tracking mom’s oxygen, her pulse rate, her BP? Without the green flickering light that reassured us all was well?

What if the new staff isn’t as vigilant? What if we can’t get help when we need it? What if we miss something, up in the room? 

A hundred What ifs swirl around me.

Useless but inevitable.

The hospital-help bring in the gurney and help mom onto the bed. She looks small, fragile.

That’s new. This fierce mom of mine, a veritable force of nature, known for keeping home and workplace in a constant twirl.

But then these past days have been about getting used to many things new. Familiarising ourselves with the vast machinery that the hospital is, navigating its stairs and ramps, befriending nurses, guards and ward boys, poring over daily health charts until never-heard-before acronyms TLC, CRP, RT began to make sense.

Most of all, decoding the doctor’s (purposely?) impassive face for signs – a word, a frown, a thoughtful ‘hmmm’ bringing solace or sending us in an overdrive.

Meanwhile, she is managing a constant conversation with the staff, her voice husky and strained, her vocal cords rusty, protesting but unable to hold her back. She’s thanking them for their help, taking one of them to task for being rude to her, and then doling out ‘punishment’, ‘You will have to come home when I’m well, to make up for it’, she tells the helper, making them all break into smiles.

She reminds us to tip them as they make their way out. She forgets nothing.

Fortunately, we haven’t been alone in this trial. Friends, relatives, cousins, close and distant, have stood around us like pillars of strength, exuding comfort and reassurance, which, to me, has been a trifle bewildering yet hugely gratifying.

8 Replies to “From the hospital”

  1. Your mom sounds like a lovely person, Tulika. I know it’s tough to see our parents go through health challenges, but we must rise above them and be there, especially emotionally. I’m glad to hear she’s recovering and able to communicate at her best. I hope she’s feeling much better and is back to her true self by now.
    Vinitha recently put up this amazing post…October Tales #GratitudeMattersMy Profile

    1. She’s much much better Vinitha. And you’re right, it’s tough to watch our parents grow old, even though that’s inevitable.

  2. Hugs, Tulika! I can so well relate to what you have been going through! It’s very difficult to see your parents age and worse still, to see them frail and vulnerable with advancing age that keeps throwing major health scares every now and then! I wish and pray for aunty’s speedy recovery. Love her spirit even as she puts up such a brave front during such a crisis! You and your sister must be so proud of her! Prayers for you and the rest of the family to tide through these tough times!
    Please don’t forget to fill your cup too, while you take care of the others, dear Tulika! <3
    Esha recently put up this amazing post…How to Find the Little Joys in Life | #ReflectionMondayMy Profile

    1. I’ve been thinking of you Esha and I’m in renewed awe of how you’ve been managing everything. Old people are challenging in so many ways – quite like children – every day there’s a new issue to deal with.

  3. I know it is hard to see our parents weak and sick. Ventilator sounds the most scary to me. The long journey from the ventilator to the ICU to the hospital room must have been a hard one for your mother and also for you mentally.
    I wish your mom fast recovery.

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