It was Saturday afternoon. Diwali is just two months away and I was planning to book train tickets for my travel to home town. Planning is actually a wrong word here. I'd been stalling the actual booking for a couple of days now, which is the quirk that I've when the matter involves urgent decision making. But knowing the way train tickets are reserved for Diwali season, I got down to book the ticket. After trying a couple of date and train combinations, I finalized a train which had wait list within 50. I called my home town number to take my mother's opinion on it. Phone was answered by my father. As he is non-indulgent with these trivial matters, he asked me to check with my mother. He also informed me that she had gone to Indore (MP) to enquire about my cousin brother's health. During the conversation with my father, there was another call on my cell phone. After putting down the first call, I checked and found it was from my brother-in-law. I called back.
The news bushwhacked me. My father-in-law had suffered a cardiac
arrest in morning and was hospitalized in Indore. He said "if possible
please send Didi". After calming my senses I felt a HOPE that my father-in-law was not in a bad
condition. I had reasons to believe so; first - both my brother-in-law and
father-in-law are doctors and they would have taken right steps, second - my
brother-in-law used word "possible" which didn't sound very urgent,
and third - the tone was normal. As my mother was already in Indore, I called her to inform her.
She told me that she had received the news and was on her way to hospital.
I started looking for ways to go to Indore. The next direct train
was four days later, and flight charges recently being raised by more than 25%
made me look for bus options. I booked the evening bus tickets. Meanwhile my
wife also spoke to my brother-in-law and was OK with this plan as she too
didn't sense any urgency. Two hours later my mother called and asked me to come
by next available flight. I was alarmed, but still HOPED that everything will turn alright - without a reason this time.
I reached Indore by next flight. My father-in-law was in ICU;
unconscious. I was told that he had suffered a cardiac arrest which resulted in
an Edema in his brain due to overshooting of blood pressure (I might have
missed the exact reason). Edema had blocked his sensory division which is why
he was partially paralysed. His right limbs were paralysed. His left limbs were
tied to the bed because he was throwing them unconsciously and pulling apart
all the tubes which were poked in his veins.
The doctors told me that we can HOPE for a recovery if the swelling
subsidized. They wanted to wait for 72 hours for swelling to come normal. We
all HOPED that everything is going to be just
fine in the end. Again there was a reason to HOPE - there were total four
doctors supervising his condition including a well-known neurologist giving
their best treatment as they were his friends and colleagues. One of his other
colleague advised us to shift him to Vedanta Medicity in New Delhi. We enquired
and found that it was riskier to shift him in current condition; so we decided
to put up there itself. For the next three days doctors told us that his
condition was improving with a slight variation in the edema and we could HOPE for a recovery. After 72 hours, they
informed us that the swelling had not abridged and they have to conduct a brain
surgery. As per them it was a standard procedure and nothing to fear about.
72 hours passed. Doctors conducted the surgery and came a good
news "Operation was successful"; the collective HOPES reached their zenith. Everything is
going to be alright. A major tragedy has been averted. We can go back to our
normal lives. So much and so many. A sigh of relief.
Emily Dickinson once said “Hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words And never stops
at all.” How true.
But extraordinary circumstances do come in ordinary lives, simply
put; when it rains, it pours. Two hours post operations, doctors informed us
that his condition was worsening and they are going to put him on ventilator. He
spent his night on ventilator, in comma. Next morning doctors told us, my
father-in-law is brain-dead. Better pull the plug. NO HOPES.
I
doubt if I had ever seen such a composure in face of infinite HOPELESSNESS which I saw in my
brother-in-law. Probably the medical training had prepared him to accept the
dark realities in grace.
Someone
from somewhere found a Mumbai based neurosurgeon’s contact number. We called
him. He said, if my father-in-law could survive a week on ventilator, there is
a chance something can be done. REFURBISHED
HOPES. We sent him MRI photos on email.
Then
came the night. One night that I cannot forget. At 8:30 PM, night shift ICU
doctor told me, my father-in-law’s blood pressure is dropping. He will be dead
in two hours. I still don’t know how I sounded when I told this to my
brother-in-law. There was nothing doctors could do. It was the end. We stood by
my father-in-law’s bed side, watching him sink bit by bit. A hole expanding in
our hearts, filling it with HOPELESSNESS.
What worse could there be than watching your loved ones dying in front of your
eyes and not be able to do anything. What HOPE
could we have now? Is HOPE real, can
HOPE do anything or is it just a worthless
human emotion.
Or is it what Friedrich Nietzsche said.
“Hope in reality is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the
torments of man.”
My
father-in-law left us with his mortal remains. There was neither HOPE nor
HOPELESSNESS. There was just a wall. For some, to stop there and live with it
and for others to jump and leave it behind.
