I shared a few links last week about palliative care, assisted living, hospice, terminal disease, etc. Here is another one on nursing homes
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/24/health/24nursing.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all
I don't know how many of them are single, married, divorced, widows, widowers, etc., but there are in nursing homes, some by choice and some by the choice of their family. Recently my colleague's father, diagnosed with brain tumor, malignant (final stages) moved into a hospice because her mother could not take care of him single-handedly and both girls were working in different cities. It can be both emotionally and physically draining to see a close family member every day suffering and sinking deeper in the jaws of death.
My dad's grandmother lived till 90, but her last year was in bed. We were in a joint family and we took turns and attended her. Awareness about simple old age disease like Alzheimers, Parkinson's, Dementia, etc. was not there. We failed to understand her illness and rather attributed to personality and behavioral traits from youth. In India we don't classify illness and understand the seriousness of it, rather we park it under the umbrella of "Old age", "senility", etc.
Today India is rapidly progressing towards the western lifestyle. In most cases both spouses are working, in some cases children are far away busy earning in various foreign currencies and in some cases people don't want to deal with the physical labor of nursing an ailing family member and take care of daily chores. In another 5-10 years we will soon have a great demand for such facilities. Since I have decided to stay single I may end up in one of these centers and who knows, I may be battling something as simple as arthritis or something scary like prostrate cancer , I don't even know where the hell prostrate in my body is. All I know is to prostrate. :-)
I am keeping myself abreast of what is happening in the West, and I don't want to wait for my turn to learn about it. Now you know why I read such articles and generously share it with you. Sometime it is better to be self taught rather than wait for life to teach you. Even if you don't get a chance to live, you can still reach out to people and help them.
BTW, I have a plan to start something for elders along the lines of palliative care, assisted living, hospice, etc. Irrespective of whether you have a family or not, spouse or not, people end up here because they need attention, care and emotional support that is not available at home. For
someone like me who will have no kids and wife, this is my destination baby. Growing up is not mandatory, but growing old is.
Apologize, if I am sounding pessimistic, self loathing and cruel, but journey of life is such. If you wish and think along the same lines, we can engage in a discussion and start volunteering our time at a hospice. We will get to meet older people with debilitating disease, their families
and importantly what it takes to run a hospice.
If this interest you then we can talk, if this email threatens then you can ignore, you never received it and the delete button is just a mouse click away. But remember what goes around, comes around!
Here are the other links that you may want to read:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/07/09/health/09sisters.html?ref=health
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/08/20/health/20doctors.html?_r=1&em=&pagewanted=all
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/17/health/policy/17untested.html?ref=health
I will stand by to hear from you.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Monday, August 17, 2009
August 14, 12:30 Noon, TTK Road, Chennai
I was on my way to work and it turned out to be yet another day in Chennai’s weather calendar - humid, sultry and hot. Predictable! The auto driver had just reached Music academy and the signal turned red. Murphy’s law? Why blame him now? You know a lot of interesting things happen at traffic signals in India. Do we even pay attention to red light and zebra crossing in India? Two wheelers were standing ahead of the zebra crossing and annoying auto drivers were maneuvering dangerously to get ahead of them. In India, chaos is also predictable.
I felt the sweat beads tickling and trickling down my ribs and flowing down to my hip. While I was patiently waiting for the lights to turn green I saw an elderly woman at a distance. May be in her late 60’s draped in a white polyester saree filled with red flowers, her grey hair neatly oiled, and wrinkled face decorated with bright red kumkum. The face of poverty was beautiful! She would not need more than 60 cms of blouse material to cover the ribs that hugged her heart and lungs tightly. She was doing her tricks to get the guy in the car roll down the window. Was she selling ears buds, cleaning cloth, knick knacks, jasmine flowers, magazines or holding her brass pot (piggy bank) draped with yellow cloth in the name of Ganesha?
Sounds like Madhur Bhandarkar movie, huh?
Over the next few seconds the old lady was surrounded by vehicles on all sides, but she boldly stood there trying to get the attention of the man in the car. Was she trying to attract his attention or was she trying to rouse the patriotism in him? My eyes toggled between the old lady and the traffic light. If she didn’t cross over to the other side or get back on the pavement the impatient and unruly Chennai traffic would have definitely abused her and merciless metro water lorries would have run over her.
I could faintly hear her voice over the deafening noise of horns and revving automobile engines. Still the guy in the car refused to roll down the windows. What does it take for people to roll down the windows? Does it need compassion, kindness, empathy, sympathy or patriotism? Can freckles, wrinkles and frailty do it?
She was not like others who target your pocket change at traffic lights, her focus was sharp and clear. I was increasingly feeling anxious and I tried to put my hand out and get her attention. Even at the age of 60+ she was ready to sweat it out, take it all in and make ends meet.
She was holding two dozen tricolor plastic flags between her right arm and chest, while her left arm was busy knocking the window and I must tell I have never seen such intense and raw emotions before. Is she Kodikatha Kumaran’s sister or is she Barath Maatha? Barath Maatha at traffic lights? Sound blasphemous?
Does anyone even remember her on days other than Aug 15 and Jan 26? Well who can even recognize her? But before the amber turned green the windows of the wealthy man’s Toyota Corolla rolled down and a few tricolors went in the car and tucked the currency in her wrinkled hip. I searched for a smile on her face, but in the meantime green appeared on the tricolor stand in the corner of the street, and chaos returned. Did her patriotism pay off or her perseverance? Did poverty sell patriotism or patriotism sold poverty? God alone knows.
63 years of Independence…and many more to come…but and yet...? You think about it…
I felt the sweat beads tickling and trickling down my ribs and flowing down to my hip. While I was patiently waiting for the lights to turn green I saw an elderly woman at a distance. May be in her late 60’s draped in a white polyester saree filled with red flowers, her grey hair neatly oiled, and wrinkled face decorated with bright red kumkum. The face of poverty was beautiful! She would not need more than 60 cms of blouse material to cover the ribs that hugged her heart and lungs tightly. She was doing her tricks to get the guy in the car roll down the window. Was she selling ears buds, cleaning cloth, knick knacks, jasmine flowers, magazines or holding her brass pot (piggy bank) draped with yellow cloth in the name of Ganesha?
Sounds like Madhur Bhandarkar movie, huh?
Over the next few seconds the old lady was surrounded by vehicles on all sides, but she boldly stood there trying to get the attention of the man in the car. Was she trying to attract his attention or was she trying to rouse the patriotism in him? My eyes toggled between the old lady and the traffic light. If she didn’t cross over to the other side or get back on the pavement the impatient and unruly Chennai traffic would have definitely abused her and merciless metro water lorries would have run over her.
I could faintly hear her voice over the deafening noise of horns and revving automobile engines. Still the guy in the car refused to roll down the windows. What does it take for people to roll down the windows? Does it need compassion, kindness, empathy, sympathy or patriotism? Can freckles, wrinkles and frailty do it?
She was not like others who target your pocket change at traffic lights, her focus was sharp and clear. I was increasingly feeling anxious and I tried to put my hand out and get her attention. Even at the age of 60+ she was ready to sweat it out, take it all in and make ends meet.
She was holding two dozen tricolor plastic flags between her right arm and chest, while her left arm was busy knocking the window and I must tell I have never seen such intense and raw emotions before. Is she Kodikatha Kumaran’s sister or is she Barath Maatha? Barath Maatha at traffic lights? Sound blasphemous?
Does anyone even remember her on days other than Aug 15 and Jan 26? Well who can even recognize her? But before the amber turned green the windows of the wealthy man’s Toyota Corolla rolled down and a few tricolors went in the car and tucked the currency in her wrinkled hip. I searched for a smile on her face, but in the meantime green appeared on the tricolor stand in the corner of the street, and chaos returned. Did her patriotism pay off or her perseverance? Did poverty sell patriotism or patriotism sold poverty? God alone knows.
63 years of Independence…and many more to come…but and yet...? You think about it…
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