Why am I writing this? Firstly as a cathartic exercise to air my pain and secondly, to share my experience as caregiver. The worst thing to happen to anyone is to be told that someone dear in the family has cancer.
This article has been published as submitted by the writer without any editing by Chillibreeze so you can critique it, in its original format. Please feel free to rate and comment on this article.
Scroll down to the bottom to rate this article.
Author: Chaya Srivatsa
Because… I have a mother like you
The poignant tale of a woman who helped her husband die with dignity’
****
It was an ordinary day just like any other day in my life. With a small difference though. Srivatsa, my husband, went for a medical check up. He hated those things. Always a healthy man with a disciplined lifestyle, he was a typical service officer (retired).Added to that, a golfer who got up at 5 am and was onthe course religiously every morning by day break. Ram rod straight, he would walk the eighteen holes, pulling his own cart, playing a gentlemen’s game, stickler for rules and very honestly recording his scores on the card he dropped in the box at the club. Never complained of a headache or indigestion!
His pet aversion was medicines and an injection was his favorite phobia. That is why I was surprised when he wanted our son Arjun to get him ‘checked out’ as he put it. A busy neurosurgeon, Arjun often played golf with his father and that was when Srivatsa expressed to him that he found it difficult to talk sometimes. Arjun could have put it down to advancing age but decided to get an MRI done.
I went to work as usual and had no clue of what was in store when I went home for lunch. Srivatsa was in the bathroom taking a shower and my daughter-in-law,Chetana who had accompanied him for the MRI, insisted I have lunch since I am Diabetic and need to eat at regular intervals. I chatted with her about work and she was a patient listener as always. Most people have little choice but to listen as I am very fond of my own voice! Arjun walked in with the MRI reports and started looking at them.” Everything ok baby”? I asked him, expecting him to say ‘of course’. But he said something that shattered my life that instant. “ No Mum. Dad has a tumor in the brain”.
In a movie, there is generally a clap of thunder and a jagged lightening tears the dark sky when any momentous event happens. In real life all that happens is a coldnumb feeling in the pit of the stomach and a painful thud around the heart. I just sat down to absorb what I heard. “What happens baby?” I asked, hoping it was just a small intruder that could be cut and thrown away and we could get on with life.” I have asked Dr Sridhar to operate next Friday mum”, he said, holding me tightly. Not a very demonstrative person, his gesture scared me. Why was he holding me so protectively ? I looked up to see his eyes brimming with tears. They told me everything. That the clock was ticking and that our little world was about to shake at the foundation. “I have called Anil mom and he is arriving with Deepali and the children on Monday”. So the brothers had organized everything before breaking the news to me.
I still remember the feeling of numbness that surrounded my heart when I slowly digested what my son told me. My first reaction was ‘why Srivatsa’? And then realized that God has no obligation to answer such questions. Maybe He had a grand plan of His own and chosen us to fulfill that. Surprisingly, I did not feel pain nor anger-just bewildered that a tsunami hit us so suddenly. I went to my prayer room and cried for a while seeking God’s help to cope with this. The uppermost thought was Srivatsa should not suffer any pain. That is the only boon I asked God. I felt at peace with the situation, as I knew God would do what was best for Srivatsa. All I could do was to shower him with the same love and affection that has been the foundation of our marriage over four decades.
Why am I writing this? Firstly as a cathartic exercise to air my pain and secondly, to share my experience as caregiver. The worst thing to happen to anyone is to be told that someone dear in the family has cancer. The next thing is to see the person suffer and feel helpless. Then comes the tortuous period of care giving and finally the mixed feeling of relief and grief when death walks In.
I sit by him silently, reading a book on the Karma theory, sometimes watching TV or just remembering the lovely years we have spent together. He holds my hand in a tight grip, unable to express what he feels, falling into a deep sleep and occasionally surfacing to flash a weak smile. Humming “Teddy Bear Teddy Bear brush your teeth”, I move the battery operated toothbrush coaxing him to say “ aaaaaah” while I battle with the germs. Bathing times are fun as I train the hand shower pretending he is a plant and I am a Gardner.Getting him into his clothes, buttoning his T shirt and dabbing baby powder under his arms, I plant a peck on his cheek as I tuck him in for his morning nap while I rush to make his breakfast porridge. I love spooning food into his mouth, cajoling like I do with my grandchildren to show me a “tiger mouth”, wiping a morsel hovering around his lips. Everyday is a new dawn of hope that he will say something new, each gesture is a challenge to be interpreted the right way. I make him recite Jack and Jill and clap when he gets it right. He was my management Guru at one time, teaching what leadership is all about by example..
No more parties…no more dancing to old melodies on Saturday nights…no more hanging out with cronies at the club…no more shopping sprees or short holidays…PERIOD.But no regrets.
A Sanskrit verse spells out the various roles to be played by a wife, exhibiting qualities ranging from the sublime to servitude. In his inimitable style, Bernard Shaw sumps up the same with only three stages- as mistress when young, as companion in middle years and as a nurse in old age. If being a mistress means being seductive and attractive to the husband, I have tried my best and the fact that he has not gone ‘astray’, seeking greener pastures, proves it! As a companion, I have participated in all his activities including attending boring Golf parties where the only conversation revolves around teeing and Birdies (whatever that means). Those halcyon years as mistress and companion were hectic, exciting and fulfilling. Now, as he sleeps unconscious, breathing gently, biding his time to reach his heavenly abode, I play the final role of a wife as nurse cum mother, putting a flourishing signature to the end of a fragrant, romantic letter.
More on Chillibreeze
Rate more articles by Indian writers
Take advantage of our confidential and professional article review services to get your writing rated by an expert critic
Check out our Writing Courses and Writing Assessments
Want to work on client projects? Read more about our screening process.
Related posts:
- Mother Goddess… Where are You?
- Saving Mother Nature & Environment
- Day 32: Necessity is the Mother of all New Tricks
- Take Your Motherhood Job Seriously
- Her Name Was Mooni
Comments:
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
A touching story, personal, heart breaking and soul stirring. The protagonist’s struggle is visible more than the dying partner’s; which is great for the reading. The choice of analogies is interesting.
A nice and sensitive read throughout.
A very sensitive and emotional personal story of the author. The words portray the grief of the author and how she is preparing herself for it. I admire her confidence to walk through it and her choice of writing it as a story to ease her grief a little bit. God be with her!
{ 1 trackback }