Mi, can you believe it? Pulmonary Fibrosis runs in the family. How weird to first of all come to know this after you passed away from a collapsed lung which was a result of “idiopathic” pulmonary fibrosis. And now, we learn that it is more of an idiotic situation than idiopathic.
It seems P’ma has been diagnosed with PF and is having a bad time. I can imagine – you went through twelve years of that. (PF – supposed to provide for the family as a Provident Fund – but look at what’s happening here! PF is also Pulmonary Fibrosis) I chatted with K and he told me what was happening.
Such a deja-vu-ish feeling. I couldn’t help thinking that you suffered so much in 1997 before the docs reached the right diagnosis, and then, continued to go through all sorts of health issues as a result of the medication for each problem. No one took it seriously in the family.
When you were in ICU for 15 days straight receiving platelet transfusions as the doctor and his team struggled to get your platelet count and hemoglobin up, we were told to be prepared to lose you. I still remember pacing those corridors all night, because they expected to have to take you to the main hospital 20 plus kilometers away because they didn’t have a ventilator here, in case they needed it.
I like to think prayers saved you that night. The nurses were so indifferent, probably because they see this on a daily basis. So now looks like I must plan a quickie trip to go see P’ma. I heard she’s frail and has to wear a nightie. I remember how you felt bad to wear one when you had that fall from the second floor in your school and had to take complete bed rest.
Don’t you wonder sometimes how we managed to stay sane through all the things we went through? The multiple hospitalizations, the frustration, the expense,the stress, the suffering – and during the last few months, recovery was not always imminent. Still, I never worried during the various times you were in hospital because I always had a deep conviction that you would pull through. And you did.
So – why it did not work the last time is something I still feel unreal about. Yet your chances of surviving were almost nil. If it were only the collapsed lung, they might have succeeded in reviving it. But the lack of oxygen during those crucial minutes before we got you into emergency played havoc on your system.
To this day, the people you regarded so highly did not ask for details; who has the time to listen to others, Mi? Yet they want to make sure they tell us every little detail about themselves, no matter how trivial. It is always very significant when even minor things happen to them. But you and me, bru-ha-ha-ha.
While we managed to laugh at most of this, I know the pain we shared and I will never forget that. I am blessed we had/have each other. After all, we are so used to people’s give and take policy. We give, they take.
Today, Vidur had to miss school because of a tummy upset. I was scheduled to go to the bank to wind up your accounts, but S called to say she’s sending someone to get the papers and after reviewing them, I could plan a trip. Convenient for today especially since I was undecided whether to lug Vidur along for the ride.
While making the list of documents for her, I came across a photo of yours tucked into a checkbook. So cute. Vidur and I got very senti – because we always remember you exactly like that – alert, smiling, bright and ready to GO!
Still trying to understand why you never had a single lazy bone in your body, Mi. That’s one thing about you I would never aspire to emulate.
Oh well. Now look at the inheritance I have to handle: Health risks, mostly. No wealth issues, thank God. *wink*. Paternal family has bequeathed the risk of diabetes and breast cancer. (And who knows what else). Enough said. Tomorrow I’ll show you the cute kadaai I got. You would have loved to use it, my immortal kitchen queen!.
