Tragedy and Comedy on Independence Day

Yesterday was Independence Day and was it ever celebrated all over the place! I've got lots to say about nationalism in the New India but that'll have to keep till I can find the videos I want to link to on youtube!

It’s been a week since we arrived in India and it feels like its been forever. Today’s the first day I’ve actually been home and had time to think since we arrived here: I’ve been home (cleaning up the disaster zone this place has become but still home alone and those of you who’ve followed my adventures in India last year know how rare that is!) all day and have realized that this is what purgatory must feel like. Waiting for someone you love to die is horrible but the tragedy of it all is undercut by the low comedy of “life must go on.” When a crisis lasts a day or two, you get by on adrenaline alone – and who cares if you’ve not changed. But this has been over a month and so there’s food to be procured or produced for six, not to mention clean underwear and beds for different people at different times.

We’ve only been here for a week but its been a critical week – I can’t believe how fast the cancer is eating away at her. I know she’d made a special effort to hold on till we got here and for a couple of days after that she didn’t seem to be in too much pain. She talked to us, haltingly perhaps, and certainly responded to us talking to her. In the last few days, though, she’s begun to sink markedly…. She seemed to spend longer and longer periods asleep, which we thought was a good sign but now the sleep is more like a stupor and I’m not sure she’s even aware of us. She’s certainly not responding to conversation or to touch – it’s heartbreaking to see her lying there more or less blankly, though this is, I suppose, better than seeing her restless from pain and in real distress. There were a couple of bad days in between when she was in pain and moaning out loud, which nearly drove me around the bend as I sat there holding her hand murmuring that it would alright when I bloody well knew that it wouldn’t ever be alright for her again.

Of course, it hasn’t all been tragedy though – I’ve been taken for a “real” doctor by one of the real doctors attending to her. Hospitals in India are quite informally run – and given that my mom’s medical standing in Mysore, we’re consulted as to my grandmother’s care to an unbelievable degree. So yesterday was when I became a “real” doctor: I was alone at the hospital and but had been left with instructions as to what to ask the consultant physician who was supposed to be doing his “rounds” that morning. Gramma is in a teaching hospital so consultants arrive for their rounds with a gaggle of respectful medical students and junior doctors in various stages of their careers. So in walks the great man. Nods all around. Then:

Great Man: “How has she been?”
Me: “She’s now asleep, sir, but she’s been in pain all morning and we’re wondering if she should be on medication for it?”
GM: “Yes, yes, what does your mother think?”
Moi: “Well, we talked about giving her Pethidine….” [
GM, nod, nod. “Yes, yes, terminal cancer patient. No point worrying about addiction. Pethdine, huh? Why not morphine?”
Me: “She’s allergic.”
GM: “Hmmm, I see, I see.”
Me: “Perhaps a 50mg dose, but only to be given when she’s actually awake and in pain?” [parroting my mother again].
GM: “Yes, yes, I’ll write it up for the nurses.”
Me: “Thank you, sir, we just want to make sure she doesn’t suffer.”
GM: “Quite right, terminal case but no need for distress. OK, doctor.”
I thought perhaps I’d misheard or that he’d just not realized what he’d said. Until… an hour later, he popped his head into the room (followed by heads of a few of the entourage) to say: “One more thing, doctor, make sure the dose is signed out from the Chief when he’s here – he handles all narcotics personally – so you can administer at night if you need to.”
Me: “Er, sir….”
GM: “That’s it, that’s all I came to say. OK doctor.”
And GM and entourage all back out while I stand there trying not to laugh.