• My sincere apologies to those who don’t particularly want to read about death, dying and growing old, but ever since I read Atul Gawande’s book “Being Mortal”, I have been drawn to death and dying. And since tomorrow is designated as the International Day of Older Persons by the UN, I thought I’d discuss the issues that were put forth by Atul Gawande in his thought-provoking book.

    For those of you who haven’t heard of him. Atul Gawande is practicing surgeon in America. Born and raised in the US, son of Indian Immigrant doctors Atul like many a doctor before him, wields the pen with as much skill as he wields the scalpel so even a subject as morose and serious as this one becomes a captivating read.

    I often wonder whether the Universe directs me to read certain topics because of things happening in my life or do things happen because I am reading about them? Much like the chicken and the egg, I can’t still figure out what comes first. Perhaps it is a combination of both or perhaps it is the presence of my growing grandchildren that makes me realise that I am older than I’d like to admit?  Or is it the illness of a friend’s mom or the news of the passing on of another friend’s father?

    Old age is fraught with its own problems – disability, disease, loneliness and dependence. Atul Gawande’s book deals with all these aspects of growing old and leaves one with a feeling of hope that old age can be something that one can cope with.

    Quoting from his own website : 

    “Medicine has triumphed in modern times, transforming the dangers of childbirth, injury, and disease from harrowing to manageable. But when it comes to the inescapable realities of aging and death, what medicine can do often runs counter to what it should.

    Through eye-opening research and gripping stories of his own patients and family, Gawande reveals the suffering this dynamic has produced. Nursing homes, devoted above all to safety, battle with residents over the food they are allowed to eat and the choices they are allowed to make. Doctors, uncomfortable discussing patients’ anxieties about death, fall back on false hopes and treatments that are actually shortening lives instead of improving them. And families go along with all of it.

    In his bestselling books, Atul Gawande, a practicing surgeon, has fearlessly revealed the struggles of his profession. Now he examines its ultimate limitations and failures – in his own practices as well as others’ – as life draws to a close. And he discovers how we can do better. He follows a hospice nurse on her rounds, a geriatrician in his clinic, and reformers turning nursing homes upside down. He finds people who show us how to have the hard conversations and how to ensure we never sacrifice what people really care about.

    Riveting, honest, and humane, Being Mortal shows that the ultimate goal is not a good death but a good life – all the way to the very end.”

     

    Image result for life and death quotes

    Ageing and dying are natural processes yet we try and live life artificially- we defy the ageing process with simple cosmetic changes like dying our hair or dressing young. With de-tox diets, nutritional supplements and anti-oxidants we try and extend our youth till as long as we can and then finally we try and cheat death by defibrillators and ventilators and tubes that feed us.

    All of us would wish for a painless death, an end that is swift and peaceful. With longer life spans and smaller families, old age isn’t all about pleasure cruises and Tombola but we can always hope and try to make it as fulfilling and rewarding as our youthful past.

    This book definitely makes one think about why old people behave the way they do and how we can cope with their care.

    If you are in a situation where you have to interact with older persons, I would urge you to read this book.  

    STAT.

    Ciao 

     

  • Waving the white flag

    Waving the white flag

    Mumbai’s traffic is horrendous for cars. It is equally horrendous for pedestrians. In case you don’t know it, our streets are paved with gold especially for those who occupy them as vendors or squatters. Mumbai’s real estate prices are rising higher than the skyscrapers and are coming up faster than the old buildings that are falling down. With just an island to build on, we really have option but to go up.

    So for those who can’t afford a place to stay, a spot on the pavement is nothing less than a gold mine.

    And with pavements encroached upon by squatters and vendors, pedestrians have no option but to walk on the roads hoping it’s their lucky day and they don’t get bumped off by speeding cars.

    But my story today is about crossing the road which is equally fraught with danger since the traffic signals at pedestrian crossings never work. At least the one I have to use on one of the busy arterial roads of Mumbai which is busy all day and night.

    There are four pedestrian crossings on this road since it also has two schools and a hospital apart from towering skyscrapers and shops. So this is a busy road not only for the cars that use it as a connector between North and South Mumbai, but it is also a lifeline of the neighbourhood.

    There have been one or two fatal accidents which ensure that the pedestrian crossing near the school works during school pick up and drop off time but for the rest of the time the light just blinks yellow warning you that the cars are NOT going to stop leave alone slow down . As a matter of fact, the motorists particularly speed up in order to get the green light at the major traffic junction a 100 metres or so down the hill. Which is why, for people like me crossing the road can be a chore. Not only do I have to wait for 10 minutes or more, but when I get that lull in the flow, I have to make sure I get across 40 feet in less than a minute. And this is a road with two way traffic!

    The other day, after waiting for 10 minutes, I realised that the traffic was simply not going to slow down . It was 10 am and everyone was in a rush to get to the office. I would possibly have to wait for half an hour till all the office goers had reached their destination. And I too had other errands to do in yet another direction.

    Suddenly it struck me that I had a white cloth bag with me so I lifted it up and waved it like a Peace Flag. Surprisingly, a police van that was also speeding up to catch the signal came to an abrupt halt. Perhaps they were startled to a halt. But following their example, all the traffic stopped at the pedestrian crossing on both sides of the road because everyone was shocked at this little old lady waving a white flag and crossing the road.

    I was so pleased with my success that I didn’t notice that the road was soon closed of all traffic to let a VIP convoy zoom past. In my glee I waved my flag to the convoy as well !

    Ciao

  • Mistaken Identity : Ghagracholi and Golf

    Wisdom comes with age.

    Or so one would have thought.

    My experience last week had me thinking otherwise.

    My tailor, with whom I’ve had a turbulent relationship, needed a prod. After all, his promise of getting my garments done in one week was now stretching into the third week and I needed to get Ms Papaya’s ghagracholi ready in time for Navratri. So I scrolled through WhatsApp and punched in his name.

    To my surprise there were two entries for Naveenbhai Tailor that popped up in my list of Contacts. I wondered who the second contact was because the DP looked decidedly like a golfer. I zoomed in the picture and sure enough there was Naveenbhai from Kalbadevi seriously addressing the ball with perfect stance and a perfect concentration. Used to seeing him slouching over his sewing machine, I did a double take and showed it to Prima Donna who was travelling with me . I thought perhaps her younger eyes would see better and help identify the person in question.

    But she was equally startled and both of us began thinking of how Naveenbhai the Tailor from Kalbadevi could possibly be playing golf?

    You see my imagination knows no bounds.

    Did he like many enterprising Gujeratis make trips abroad for business? Or was he visiting relatives in New Jersey ? Did he actually play at Bedminster ? Did he play with President Trump?

    Unable to bear the suspense, I decided to catch the bull by the horns and messaged Naveenbhai the Tailor and asked if he was delivering my garments as promised and also if he played Golf. He replied in the affirmative to both.

    Now I was even more flummoxed, so I asked Naveenbhai the Tailor playing Golf to identify himself.

    I was shocked when he replied that ‘he’ was my husband’s cousin and the DP was the picture of her brother .

    I still didn’t get it and politely replied that Naveenbhai was my tailor and stopped further interaction. I didn’t for a moment think it was my husband’s cousin especially since we aren’t remotely connected to any tailor. Actually, I was stunned by the sheer coincidence of it all : imagine me and my tailor’s wife sharing the same name and, even more surprising, her husband’s cousins having the same names as my husband’s cousins. Even by Ripley’s standards this was something I preferred not to believe

    But stranger things are known to happen and for a few days I was completely distracted by images of Naveenbhai playing golf at Bedminster and downing beers with celebrity golfer’s on the 19th hole.

    Then suddenly, a few days’ later, it struck me that perhaps it could be my cousin-in-law. Could I have mistakenly saved the cousin’s number under the wrong name? Was Naveenbhai the Tailor who plays Golf actually my husband’s cousin? It turns out that it was.

    I was immediately contrite and embarrassed. This was a serious gaffe. In Indian society, a husband’s sister has a special status and imagine mixing her up with a humble tailor ????? I then sent off a series of messages to Naveenbhai the Tailor who was playing golf, aologizing profusely for my mistake. Luckily, the cousin-in-law has a sense of humour and graciously accepted my apology and bumbling explanation.

    I promptly renamed the contact and I hope my brain fog clears up and I don’t make such mix-ups again .

    Ciao and have a happy week .

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