Love-letter

Titled intentionally, lest anyone decides to give this read a customary skip, just after viewing the post. 

The evening before:

Ritual 1: A piece of paper, with all current ailments carefully written down in the order of occurrence. Quite meticulously done because the experiencer of the pain and trauma feels it physically, penetrating into the mental layers as well. Hence this is but an inevitable exercise: that of writing down the grievances. Just like how we have learnt about grievance cells back in schools days from the Business Studies text book. We’re taught that when there are any “complaints,” raise them. So, job well done here, by the patient.

Ritual 2: A travel bag is prepared with all things that can be used for a quick one-day trip. A plate, a couple of tumblers, a spoon, coffee, sugar, citrusy fruits, pomegranates, at times…newspaper, towels, water bottle, lunch for the day, scissors, knife, and lastly, a thick strand of HOPE, powered by Chants and Prayers.

The day of travel: 

The bag is packed and carried, to a not-so-far-off destination, lest it’s made to look like a trip to a picnic spot. It’s for a 21-day window of getting doses of medication. The organism that rules the illness never gets tired of living. It has to be tamed, in order for it to tone down, and not rear its ugly head, to make its way to the rest of the human body. 

Blood pressure levels are checked on the day of the hospital visit. A note is then handed over to the doctor for review. The patient seems to take note of all current difficulties so that the doctor can potentially provide remedies. We’re already privy to the fact that there’s no cure. It has been repeated a zillion times, in many ways. However, the mind chooses to think - just like a fever, this would get cured, over a few pills.

The doctor found a cooler way to address this conflicting reality: rather than being completely brazen about the facts, he chooses to term the note from the patient as a “love-letter.” So much so that, he voluntarily asks, “where’s my love-letter for today?!” 

With that, the air gets lighter, because the air in the room is filled with love. 

Everything cools down with some love, perhaps. If only we choose to tone down, view things differently, rather than making something sound complicated. Some magic and love would lighten things up, even if it doesn’t reverse the situation. 

Feel better, Dearest Appa. A big thanks to our amazing oncologist, who’s our saviour - the mastermind behind the love-letter idea. 

Happy birthday, to us!

 

Together, we grow older, to achieve a milestone – for the two of us, unequally, equal – in the wildest of it forms.

All the holler about oh one year flying so fast, time flies, enjoying while they’re still young, enjoying every moment – Well time didn’t fly – every single day is etched, this is no exaggeration – for having ran through the errands one after another – wading through long days and nights.

Going without food is easy, but not without sleep, but thanks for helping me conquer the want to sleep – over day and night. It’s insanely beautiful, thanks to my coffee! I’d wait for Coffee’o’clock, a reason to date with coffee.

Learning to identify physical growth through rows of clothes on the clothesline – each time I go up to dry after every manual wash – little pieces of cloth that made for initial clothing, have become longer, and broader, if you will. Each time the cloth is set to dry on the clothesline, the smell of Dettol on my fingers and the clothes attracts me for a quick few – to stand by and feel every dress that was gifted. And that’s how I recollect every piece of clothing that was gifted, from the time of birth. 

An unwavering fetish to remember the little things, without having the adrenaline rush to have them as a "photographed memory." Thanks for the impetus to get my focus straight.

Learning to bend and flex despite being injected in the spine, to bring you to the world. With each painful feeling, I’d utter Niraamaya – your pristine name, to free me of any disease!

Work is something that I dreaded the most to deal with – amidst all the chaos. Thanks to the tough project management training on the job, about 18 years of experience, has been paying off – in terms of handling daily eventualities and challenges. I had projects as babies, prior to having a human baby :)

No, you didn’t grow old just like that, neither did I. Neither is this a RANT. It’s super encouraging to face even more challenges, as they come along – one at a time, with complete SURRENDER to my dear Krishna!

This is why the tattoo on my hand feels so good – painstakingly incredible of how the 1 year came to be, and my 40th!

Happy Birthday, to my fellow May and Edavam born (Malayalam month). Thanks for making me AMMA.

Love,

Usha – together we grow older, to achieve a milestone.