Walls of the Hospital has heard more prayers than any shrine. The cry of mortals echoed through the corridors.They think they can defeat it, Stupid mankind. Death is inevitable.
What can we do? We can just extend the misery and give false hopes, because what has to go will go. We rise from the dust and will perish into it one day.
I joined Medical school to pursue career in medicine as a doctor. But death wasn’t scared of these man-made gods, helplessness crept into them too. Faith is weak, people easily lose it. I didn’t realise it until one day, life took it upon itself to teach me a lesson and break my ego, my pride, my faith, in science.
Wrinkled twitching face, piercing grey eyes, still as smart as he ever will be….as he looked at me, lying on the bed, bed-ridden like a injured lion. I haven’t seen or met a man as strong as my grand pa. His voice inhumanly deep and stern. I was actually quite shocked to hear, someone in his condition having such a strong command. He’s almost 92 now, suffering from 52% both kidney failure, with a pacemaker, damaged clavicle and broken femur.
He couldn’t move one side of his body, and yet the charisma and positive vibe that emanates from his face never lessened. It’s been six months already since my grand Ma passed and since then his health has faltered quite a bit,as if he’s been shrinking day by day. There’s a major surgery, I overheard one of my relative saying….all the faces in the room were dull and grey. He didn’t even wince, expressionless, stone cold. “Chances of survival are really less, endangered” ,continued my relative. I could feel back of my hair rising and chills running through my body. I kept looking at him, almost as if looking for a sign of weakness. Soon, I realised it’s us who should be pitied, cause he was ready for what’s to come, and we were looking for different ways to sympathise with him.
I was scared losing someone….I mean the thought of seeing him there and next moment he isn’t it made me nauseous and tremendously scared. I being a medical student started googling everything online, all the results pointed on only one thing Death. I tried avoiding the next few meetings with my Grandpa, although he and I are very close but it just seemed apt not to meet him anymore. It made me comfortable as if almost preparing for his departure. I tried not to think about life and death stuff anymore but to no avail. I just kept on realising how powerless we are, that we can’t save our own kind. I felt the guilt.
The day of surgery came sooner than expected. I went with him on that day, keeping one hand on his shoulder thinking whether I am comforting him or myself. Gloominess haunted the place, I could see tears being held back, emotions controlled. A team of doctors came and surrounded him, I held his hand for one last time then he was taken away from me.
Saw my mom whimpering….couldn’t hold back my tears, warm stream of tear felt against my cold skin comforting yet painful. I lost my faith in almost everything in God , Satan , good , bad…nothing it was nothing I went blackout. I didn’t want to believe anyone or listen to anyone. No one i thought could help us.
However I realised, whatever time we spend here with our own kith and kin we have just one job spread love as much as possible, because what’s in fate will be done. Neither I can change it nor anyone else. Grand Pa survived that surgery and returned back, he’s recovering from his wounds, I see the fight of will and death daily in his eyes, his reason to live is us, our hope is “he”.
Doctors without an argument are the closest resemblance of god, they work for our survival, with the help of them sometimes fate is written all over again. Faith returned-restored, no matter how hard it is to believe, I never lost it again, have immense faith in power of optimism.
I continue my medical school, hoping to change some fates some day, hoping to see happiness in those gloomy eyes of the ICU.
Picture courtesy :- To me myself. It’s of the hospital where my Grandpa was admitted.