Reah Goes to India: Hot and Bitter turns to Cool and Sweet

So after all the mess with changing my ticket had been sorted out, I felt lighter than air. Now that my parents understood where I was coming from the only thing to do was explain it all to my hosts. I had no idea how to go about telling them, it weighed on my mind quite heavily. I had resolved to tell them the next day, but thankfully my ammachi beat me to it. I had nothing to worry about the understood why I wanted to leave early and that it would be much better if we had planned my trip when everyone hadn't gone away. Whew a load off my mind. And would you happen to guess what happened that night. Like a sign from God, a great heavy rain fell on the burnt scorched earth and cooled the air. It was truly Providence, because it was because of the cool weather my heat rash resolved itself and my persistent chest cough and constant sneezing ceased. Even though it was only for that night, I slept soundly for the first time since my arrival. The rest of my days here have been spent exploring, lazing around, or reading the Anne of Green Gables series. Plus I got like a bunch of chocolates and have been steadily eating them to my hearts content, yumm.

Reah Goes to India: Hot and Bitter

I came to India for the expressed purpose of volunteering at a missions hospital to shadow a doctor. Three days into my trip I find out that the Appacha who founded the hospital had died, the day before we were to arrive there. I was considerably distressed and I wanted to delay the trip at least a week to let the family grieve. In my mind I thought that this would be the best option, by the time I'd get there the ffuneral would be over and I'd have the week I wanted with my grandmother (before all this passport business). Unfortunately for me, after conferring with my parents, and various uncles and aunts it was decided that we'd make the trip as planned. I was mortified, how could we ask a grieving family to put us the very next day after the patriarch dies. But as it happens things happen very differently in India then they do in Canada (my next post will be all about that). We were welcomed with open arms, joy and smiles on everyone's face. What's different about this family is that they know their grandfather lives on in eternity, and that gives them hope. (I'm sure there's a more poetic way to put that but whatever) It reminded me of King David who knew his first son by Bathsheba would die but still ferevently fasted and prayed for his healing, but when his son did die he got up and worshipped the Lord. The whole situation made me feel quite philosophical (so please bear with my musings), for us dying seems to be the worst thing that could happen to a person. Death seems so final and it scares many of us. BUT, for Christians there is hope. Death is not the end but merely the beginning of our life eternal. So I've made up my mind, my funeral will be outdoors, no one is to wear black. It will be a celebration, a welcome party for my entrance into heaven. There will probably be a party in heaven (I always did like to make an entrance) so there shall be one in my honour on earth. OOO fireworks, so I can go out with a bang. Hehehe so punny.

So the first few days I was left mostly to my own devices, seeing as most everyone else was busy with visiting family and friends and funeral arrangements. So not to be crass but it was fairly boring. I spent most of my time napping, as it was far to hot to roam around outside. It was only like a week later that I got to go to the hospital. Sigh 

I had avoided blogging because my experience at the hospital....because it had much to be desired. And it left me feeling like a failure. Ok so some details to know first. I thought I would be shadowing Mohan bhiaya, he is the one who does most of the "exciting" work. ie surgeries, delivering babies etc. But alas Mohan uncle left the day after the funeral to Delhi. My mother knew this when planning my trip but thought that his daughter would be a fine replacement. She thought it would be better seeing as Anouka was only a few years older than me and we'd probably have more in common than I would with her father. Unfortunately Anouka, through no fault of her own being what is the Indian equivalent of a resident, can't perform surgeries and doesn't feel comfortable delivering babies without her father present in case of an emergency. Anouka is quite an impressive person, for any age, she is very commanding, very knowledgable and is managing extraordinarily seeing as she is the only doctor at the hospital at the moment. Because of the lack of staff, the hospital  is taking very few patients and the more serious patients are being directed to other hospitals in the area. 

The first day I shadowed Anouka we spent most of our time in her office seeing patients that didn't need admission into the hospital. Seeing as most of the interactions were in Hindi I was left in the dark most of the time. There were only two patients that needed an examination, and they were both pregnant. It was the first time I got to hear a fetal hearbeat. That was incredible, it still blows my mind that we have the ability to give life to another being. "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb." Psalm 139: 13. That verse gives my heart a thrill and sends chills down my spine. David was a great poet. After mentioning to Anouka that I was a nursing student she had it in her mind that I needed nursing experience. And so the next day I was sent down to the ACU (acute care unit) where the nursing staff worked. There I was sent and there I sat...and sat...and sat. I did nothing but sit and look at the wall. The only enjoyable part of the day was when I got to put the nebulizer on a very squirmy baby. It was not enjoyable really, but I was glad I could actually be useful to someone. I don't think I can ever forget that poor baby, It was said that the baby wasn't expected to survive the first day. He suffered from a horrible case of pnemonia and every breath hurt him. And of course he was quite tiny for a ten month old, but he was strong. It once took four adults to hold this baby down (gently) so we could keep the nebulizer mask on his face. The next day was the same, it included me sitting and staring, asking questions when Ajitha aunty was available to answer them, and for twenty glorious minutes helping that baby. But twenty minutes in an eight hour day is not quite what I had in mind. I'd come home and weep out of frustration. I know it was wrong to overreact so, but when you feel so alone and useless, its hard not to weep. After many tearful phone calls to my parents and trying in vain to explain to them that I was wasting away here body, mind, and soul, I had given up. As many characters in books are prone to claim, I was in the depths of despair. I felt stupid, clumsy, ignorant, useless, and irrelevent. So I resigned myself to suffering in silence, I refused to speak to my parents, angry at them for failing to understand the predicament I was in  for understanding my situation and expecting me to be happy in spite of it. It seemed that my parents thought I was acting out simply because I couldn't hack the heat, the bugs, the food, and the various ailments that my body was going through. These things didn't help, but I was most distressed about my time in the hospital. I would walk in everyday, and people seeing my stethoscope would think I was a doctor, then I would have to explain to them in a mix of broken English and Hindi, that I wasn't a doctor only a student, and that I didn't actually know anything. They would look disappointed and leave, slightly disgruntled that I looked like I should have known more and that I had decieved them. After explaining to, oh so many, people that I didn't know anything, I was starting to believe it myself. I thought myself a fool for thinking I could do this, still being a student, and knowing not a lick of Hindi. How could I have thought that I could be of any use being as handicapped as I was. It took a bit for my parents to see that I was nothing but a burden to let me leave before the agreed upon date. And now I felt ashamed to be leaving early or quitting, when I was so gung-ho to come here in the first place. And now I have this giant, rambly post, that I hope no one reads... 

Reah Goes to India: Ragnandagaoh

This is going to be a bit of a pity party post. Hopefully the next one will be better

When we (my parents and I) decided that I would be going to volunteer at "the hospital" I knew that I had no idea what I was getting into. I knew that the various aspects would make this trip extremely hard. What I didn't realize was that I'd actually be right.  Sitting in my cool basement in Canada, I anticipated the heat, the food, and the language barrier; but when one imagines or daydreams about an adverse situation, one usually imagines a positive outcome.... I don't know what I was thinking but it's worse. Even indoors with the fan and the so-called cooler on, there is little respite from the heat. I drink copious amounts of water but I remain dehydrated because I sweat it all out. Plus I have to constantly be "dressed", which means wearing hot sticky churidar pants and a kurta. The food, little can be said about the food because little is all I eat of it; we eat rice at almost every meal. (not even the good kind, only fat Kerala rice...) the only exception is when we eat roti. Now the language barrier is something I only expected to experience with patients...sadly this is not the case. Hindi is spoken everywhere at all times, everyone here prefers Hindi over English, leaving me clueless and mute. Now because the Appachen (grandfather) that built this whole community and hospital died the day before we arrrived family members from all over India have come, and not wanting to intrude on precious family time, we (Ammachi and I) retire to our room at which point I nap out of sheer boredom. Ammachi  can manage because there are other appachas and ammachis to converse with, but I have never felt so lonely. But being in this situation has given me an interesting vantage point, looking in from the outside I can see how this community functions and the family supports itself during the sad times. Hopefully I can start at the hospital soon and give my time here some meaning .  

Another good thing that has come out of my experience thus far is perspective. Coming from a large family ,and a close knit group of friends, I've always been on the inside of these groups, never knowing how it must feel for an outsider. All the instructions my parents once gave us to be more friendly etc to new people suddenly rings true. I hope now that I've been to the other side I can be more welcoming to others in any situation I am in. 

I can only imagine that this sitiuation truly is a test from God. God give me grace. 

Reah Goes to India: Storytime

Reah Goes to India: Storytime

It had been a long day already and there was still so much to go. She was accompanying her elderly grandmother to a town far far away. To get there they would have to take two long plane rides and the rest of the way they must travel by car. At the moment she was sitting in the boarding lounge of the airport, waiting to start the second leg of their journey. Sweat dripped down her long nose, and soaked her shirt. she was unused to the hot climate and so far it hadn't suited her.

Charging past her was a large mustachioed man, and with a huff he sat opposite her. Startled by his entrance she dropped her boarding pass and as she reached to pick it up she met his gaze. He was clothed all in white and adorned himself with several articles of gold and silver. On  his right hand were two thick rings squeezed onto his swollen index and ring fingers. Around his thick trunk of a neck was a thick gold chain, wet with sweat. He was the sort of man who was defined by the prosperity and he wanted to ensure that even a fleeting glance would convey his very essence.

A few seats away sat a very pretty lady, her long dainty painted fingers drummed her phone impatiently. Her thin legs were crossed and her foot was beating to the rhythm her fingers created.

In fact all around her people were waiting impatiently for delayed flight.

She was becoming more and more irritated with every passing moment, and her surroundings did nothing to soothe her inflamed psyche. The man across from her complained inncessantly while chewing noisily on cashews; as a result chunks of partially digested cashew and spittle were launched from his open mouth. As the anger of grounded passengers grew louder, she became increasingly frustrated with them.

Without noticing she had been picking at her torn cuticles make a bloody mess of flesh and skin, until finally a tiny trickle of blood ran down her thumb. Alarmed at the state of her fingers, she bit down on her thumb. The combination of presssure and pain applied by her tooth was a small relief, but not enough. Angriliy she swore  to herself that there was no greater pain than a hangnail. She clutched her thumb in her palm, hungry for respite. The small annoyances had gradually increased to a breaking point she could bear it no longer. It was then an idea struck. Strengthened by her new found sense of resolution, she struck a plan.

Sloiwly she scanned the room, looking for anything that would threaten her plan. Satisfied she reached for her backpack and nimbly un zipped it, she drew out a small pink pouch. One set of of finger held the small bag tightly, while the other got to work inside the pouch. Without looking she expertly searched through the contents of her purse. At last her fingers grasped the cold metal object they had been searching for. She hesitated for a moment, contemplating her drastic measures, but resolute she slowly pulled the obect out, keeping it hidden in her palm. Keeping her hands hidden, she tried to make work as quickly as possible.

It was the pretty lady who sat a few seats away that noticed the gleam of the metal in her hands. when she realized what was happening a strangled scream left her lips. Startled everyone in the room turned to look where her pointed finger aimed. Almost all at once people realized what was happening, soon screams filled the air. A stampede of people thundered away, as uniformed guards marched in. When they had locked into their target, withouth hesitation guns wre cocked and aimed. Slowly she rose, hands in the air. But it had not been slow enough and a hail of bullets entered her soft flesh. SHe fell to the ground, her arm fell away and from her clutched palm out rolled a cold, metal, nailclipper....


please excuse the grammatical errors, it was written in haste and is not important enough to edit. This was just a short story...scene (idk) I thought of while sitting in the Bombay airport waiting for a flight. All the characters are real people that sat around me. 

Reah Goes to India: A Feverish Start

I'm sweating buckets glistening more than usual right now. Because on top of the humidity and heat I have a fever. Man I wish I had the chills at least. So last night as I tossed and turned hallucinating that a war had broken out because two sides could not decide on which position I should sleep in, on my back or on my side. As my grandmother lay sleeping in the bed beside me, the Lilliputains of my mind would flip me around like a deranged circus act. Now while I still have a fever my other symptoms are getting better, so thank God for that.

Yesterday we went shopping to get some plainer kurtas to wear at the hospital. But the most amazing part was the sales-lady that helped us was the same one who helped us two years ago. And she remebered me!! Isn't that the wierdest thing ever. Not much happened yesterday, here's hoping that today is just as easy.

Gross sweat is literally coating everything I touch. Good Lord!!! 

Reah Goes to India: A Slightly Unexpected Journey

So I'm in India, Hopefully I can recollect the journey I took to get here, because it starts about two weeks ago.
On April 28th, or so, My father realised that my passport had yet to come back from Vancouver. We had sent it in two months earlier to get my OCI visa into my current passport. When it was sent in we were assured that the process wouldn't take more than two months, so we went ahead and my trip as the same time as Chris, we were to leave two weeks after the two month mark. So a week before we leave we head to the BLS chapter in Calgary to ask what had happened to my passport. According to the lady we talked to OCI transfers take upto three months not two and it wasn't ready in time. So my father asked if there was any way we could expedite the process as I was leaving in a week. The lady said she would ask the head office in Vancouver, and let us know by the end of the day. She didn't. My dad took many trips before they took us seriously and actually called the Consulate in Vancouver. It was at this point where the Consulate agreed to expidate the passport, Hooray right? Wrong, because while the process was expeditated the actual sending of the passpport would not be expeditated. Even when my father offered to pay to overnight or actually drive to Vancouver to get it, but unfortunately for us beauracracy wins again. We were assured that the passport would come on the Monday and I was to leave on Tuesday. It didn't come and I was forced to change my flight. Oh well, C'est la vie.

One thing you don't realize when you travel with your parents is  having to constantly be aware of your passport, boarding passes, and usually the boarding passes and passports of all your family members. And for that I thank you dad. One thing I wasn't sure about was when to assert myself and when to back down. When you are asked to switch seats with someone so a family can sit together, do you? What about if it means you sit in the aisle, when you paid for a window? It's probably ok for a short flight, but do you move for a long flight like 12 hours? Oh well. Maybe my trip back will be better.

I'm also so sick, so I can't even keep my train of thought, so that'll be it for now. hopefully tomorrow will be be better. Soo sleepy I'll keep blabbing  on later. 4wtlkw;k4f4lw;4