'Everyone has a limit to their patience', said Mrs. George- our new English lecturer in her very first class, 'and when that limit is reached... We need to ask God for more'. It almost made me laugh, for while she was still talking, I had eagerly waited for a reasonable excuse to blow up from a better experienced person.
Being patient is possible sometimes, but... I have my own doubts. Especially when I'm tackling non-compliant or difficult patients.
It's not easy to put up with a patient whose oxygen saturation is 100, respiratory rate and ABG reports are well with in normal limits, whose chest on auscultation reveals little abnormal sounds, complaining in a loud shriek, 'I'm dying! Why don't you give me some injections? Put me on the ventilator!' Let alone the decible levels, he also makes me dart around making phone calls to the radiology department for an emergency portable chest x-ray, to the CCU for a respule which is not available in the hospital pharmacy and drives me to get the respiratory therapist's attention who at that moment was perhaps sweet-talking with his girl friend. All this, when there are other patients who require my greater attention and care.
Isn't it hard to put on a smile and reassure him, to enter into his crisis cycle and understand him?
It's not just hard but impossible!
At that moment, contrary to my instinctive nature, I found myself asking for more- More of patience. Not because I was inclined to but because there was no other choice. After all, he is a patient under my care.
A saintly smile and a caring touch. I wonder how many more training situations such as these will make me truly acquire them :)
Life sometimes gives us all certain moments that can't be easily forgotten.
I have now clutched in my hands some such moments that can never be forgotten! Not until I breathe my last...
"It's here! Christmas is here", said Papa hugging her gently "and we'll not celebrate without our daughter" May you have a blessed and meaningful Christmas.She's alone at home today. She's taken a day off from her busy and slightly annoying and mind-strangling job. Her friends had almost persuaded her to join them to a new flick that was making waves in the hep city she lived, but she'd managed to break away at the last possible moment. Now as she picked the red, blue and green satin ribbons to tie them into a flowery bow, she smiled to herself, breathing in the sweet aroma of scented candles that lay strewn around the mantle. 'It'sChristmas again', she said particularly to no one.
The tree stood ready to be ornated and the lush green colour of the leaves shone even more brightly as if putting on a happy smile. The memories of her childhood came bubbling over her mind when her extra large family would gather around the Christmas tree singing carols and overly decorating it. With music and the scent of goodies floating in the air, the crowded joy of the family was playing in her mind when suddenly the present filled her senses. Her neat room was deserted. There was no papa fixing the star in the balcony. Mum was not int the kitchen battering the eggs for cakes. Her sisters were not around trying on new dresses and debating over what to wear for the Christmas mass.
She was all alone. She didn't know what to do. Her hands that were tying the satin materials together with the dexterity she had acquired over the years felt limp. Something seemed to be convulsing in the place where once she thought there was a heart. That organ she believed had disappeared from there the moment she had willingly left behind her beloved home. Now it lay miles away, perhaps not even the same.
She tossed away the ribbons and squeezed her eyes shut. Eventually, she cried covering her face with both hands.
"Ding dong!"
Someone was at the door.
Hurriedly wiping the obstinate tears she flailed first towards the room to check if she was fit to be seen by whoever it was waiting at the door- If not anything, her profession had taught her the importance of carrying oneself well. Rubbing a little tear from here and a little stain from there she composedly walked to the door and opened it.
"Merry Christmas!" came a chorus ringing with the voices that were the most dear to her.
"Papa! Ma!" She couldn't believe her eyes. Like that was not enough, all her lovely and beautiful sisters barged into the room with hands full of fat bags singing carols.
It's 3 in the morning now and I'm wide awake. There's no particular thought running through my mind. No worries or cares... I'm simply lying on my bunk bed gazing at the fan running at top speed.
It must be the result of those ever so frequent night duties. Staying up all night does not seem all that abnatural. Yet, it's strange why I lie awake. My roomies aren't even snoring! It was a night of great discoveries as I journyed from the routeins to the extra-ordinaries.
3 missed calls from Mit bro. (That's his cost-effective way of saying goodnight) flashed on my cell at 12am. My mind raced over the events of the day. It was a hectic one. The ICU was full and we had a hard time managing our assignments. My feet were sore when I finally sunk into the chair at the nurses station. 'I'm maxed out!', somebody whined. Yeah. One of those 'uncool' days we agreed. Mit bro, however, surprised me by his response 'I come here to work and I did just that today.' he said. His tone was humble. Not mocking us for complaining. He was only being himself.
Those lines rang in my mind for a while. Then, I began to pray. Every time I'm ready to give up, He sets my perspective right. I had lost sight of my purpose oflate and my work had turned tedious. But he spoke into my life and renewed it by His Word.
In the quiet of this sleepless night I lighted upon another great truth. It can never be 'ALL OVER' between God and me. No matter how many times I fight with Him, go astray or fall down, it's never the end of our relationship. Yes, the consequences are distasteful but I don't have to wonder in dreadful suspense if I can ever start over with Him. It's comforting. A thought on which I can meditate through out the night.
This's something I found scribbled in the last page of my 10th grade maths class work. I was always a dreamer, but it surprised me when I realised, the dreams I see have remained unchanged over the years. My image of a perfect 10 has remained the same. The same prince charming whom I've grown up loving in the fairy tales (like Mia), charms me up until now. I know he's somewhere out there wondering who his princess is as passionately as I am. Where are you? I'm waiting to meet you...
Amidst the melody of your strings,
Join further, my hums with your tunes.
Like tiny bells breaking the air of silence,
My voice will suffuse into your song.
When you soften the cadence to admire,
The quiet little moments of life
Like tears clouding inquisitive eyes,
Our love will pervade this song.
You may not understand one bit of what I'm trying to say. Make not the effort...
Dressed in your best
Did you knock at my door?
Did you wait for me to open the door,
Let you in,
Talk to you about the weather,
Offer you some tea or coffee?
Knock knock...
Did your heart skip a beat
As you waited...
Till what seemed an eternity?
Did you look at the peep hole,
Wondering if I was at the moment peeping through?
Knock knock...
Did the sound clang at your soul
With flaming thoughts of both hope and despair?
As you rubbed your cold fingertips
Against your chin?
Knock knock...
Endangered dreams whispering
In a muffled voice,
A strangled tone,
A lost abandon,
"Will the knock be answered?"
Knock knock...
Did you know, as you stood there,
Waiting, anticipating, expecting...
Behind the locked doors,
The delicate hand that gripped the handle
Was bleeding?
Knock knock...
Lifeless, limp and icy
Unable to answer the call she waited for
All her life.
Knock knock...
I can surprise myself!
I did it again today.
Escaped into an unknown zone...
Stayed there, sans guilt or regret.
There's this bend of mind that escapes into a different dimention.
Where am I going?
Cy's looking out of the window. Smiling.
Donno where this'll lead to but shall revisit.
Cy's still smiling.
Have mercy on me, O God, have mercy! I look to you for protection. I will hide beneath the shadow of your wings until this violent storm is past. I cry out to God Most High, to God who will fulfill his purpose for me.” Psalm 57:1-2 
Me with my friend Cinthia, Minnu, preethi, Rinju, Jiby baby, Sadu n our COO.
It was yet another busy shift. Doctors swarmed in and out of the ICU, discussing the case files and the therapeutic interventions lately in practice. The security guards outside as always were fighting a good fight to keep the patient attenders from rushing into the "entry restricted" room.
We nurses on the job, went about with hurried looks and swift feet, completing our paper works.
In came the grim faced surgeon. "sister, dressing trolley", he said in his grim voice. That was information enough. I had to at the snap of a finger get materials enough to fill a pharmacy to suffice him. And to my ill luck, he couldn't have chosen a more inconvenient time- only 15 min remaining for my shift to end.
Ok, curtains pulled. Sterile trays opened. Three others just outside the screen, in case I needed any help.
I assisted the dressing of a young man's hand which was auto- amputated following a fall from a construction site. He was rushed to the hospital with his severed hand in a plastic bag. Our surgeons managed to fix it back in place. Everything seemed to be going well till a period but now there was serious doubt if he could successfully pull this through. The surgeon inspected, frowned, mumbled something and frowned again. wrapping the poor hand in sterile gauze, he left me to complete the dressing.
Outside, I could hear him saying to the registrar, "No hope. We'll post the surgery for tomorrow".
The young man's fate was decided. His re-implanted hand had to be amputated. His relatives came in and spoke in hushed tones to the doc. "The boy needs to know", someone said. It was all tears and sighs. They spoke, while the boy listened in silence. He said absolutely nothing. In a few moments the place was cleared.
I filled in the forms required for the impending surgery. All the while thinking of the right words to say before broaching the subject... The consent forms were to be signed. I simply stood by the bed clutching the file in my hands, still framing in my mind a good sentence to start with.
"Sister," he said without looking at me.
"How will I work without my hand?"
A feeling of total helplessness overwhelmed me, but I tried to be optimistic for his sake. Said something about artificial limbs, knowing well how little that reassurance would help. Then on, he did most of the talking. I only listened. listened till he was done.
Back in the hostel, my thoughts kept flying back to the ICU. To the young man. I kept asking God a 100 whys but found no answers.
I know there'll come a time when all pain and tears would disappear. But till that time... It's wonderful to muse about the things to come. But the present flashes in my mind- The cyanosed finger tips. The bright red colour of arterial blood beating into my eyes. the dressing tray. The OT complex.
I may never learn to answer the many " Sister tell me how " questions that'll come my way. But as long as there is strength in these two hands of mine, I'll work for the ones God has placed in my hands.
She texts me every day, with the same tinge of sadness in every word and sentence. Every time I try to encourage her to fight off her gloom, it sadly strikes me that she's not in control of her emotions. Sweet and lovely as she is I wonder why she ever allowed another person to influence her happiness. Was it her low self esteem that triggered of this cycle of pain? If only she could look at herself with the eyes of God!
The first few weeks of my stay in the hostel opened me to a whole new set of people- the working class of women. Being only a begginer, I would gaze in admiration at their confident strides and their complacent independance - hoping to be a woman of consequence someday! But today, my view of them is clearer. They are people fighting with addictions and discontentment, covering their insecurities with an attitude of daring recklessness. Too far from my image of women in control of their own life.
I look at myself, trying to gain a firm footing at my work place. Determined to do the work of God with the hands He's given me. Sometimes failing miserably. Wanting to do every thing right, but going wrong like the murphy's laws were applicable only to me...
Yet I go on... Knowing well that Jesus is in control. I need not worry... I only pray that my dear friends understand this too.
God bless!
What a wonderful day today is!
Started it with a jolly stroll in Lalbagh with Su.
Dashed to church, met my best pal... Exchanged friendship bands.
Was a part of the Sunday school singing session.
Played with the 4yr olds
Chatted with brother Jacos
Was dropped to my work place by a friend who happened to be going that way(didn't have to pant and heave running behind buses)
Had a cool shift at the hospital. (my patient desaturated a little but that was handled well)
Now 'm looking forward to the get-together at a friend's place.
Wish every day was like this!
A busy day has come to an end...
I'm looking forward to the dawn of a new day. I'm fully convinced, "Tomorrow will be a different day." Will meet my best friend. Will see his lovely smile n hear his husky voice, always gentle and encouraging.
What a day tomorrow will be...
So bright with the hopes of happy friendship
A very happy friendship day to you.
It's been days since I spoke to my Best friend. He's quite busy with his many projects and stuff like that( not that I know of). I tried phoning him many times but like almost always, his cell kept on ringing till my cell despaired of redialling.
Sometimes we all go through a phase where keeping in touch with the best of all friends becomes a tedious job. Not because you really intend to neglect that friend but in your leisurely hours you'd rather do something else than ring up that long ignored friend of yours and catch up with him or her. I was convinced he was in one such phase of acute timelessness. It's a topic which ever astonishes me, for I myself have remained inaccessible to most of my close buddies these days, and so to me, his silence made as much sense as his conversations would have made.
I'm not complaining my dear friend, for I understand you. Your short text messages are proof enough of the strength of our long standing friendship. Not saying that distance or silence could weaken this bond, but, I do not wish to see this scenario continue for long.
I could write my own version of T.S Eliot's 'The hollow men'. Not about the world at large, but about the person I am. A hollow woman with drawn-out expectations about what she ought to be. Hardly realising how she has blended herself into the environment. Not raising her voice against anything unfair. You'll find her trying hard, but muted very much like a goldfish. Empty and paralysed inside, but keeping up appearances. She wishes not to discuss her problems, but retreats into solitude, like a wounded panther licking its wounds in the cover of darkness. Somebody shake me up...
The pearls of hope I've dropped on the ground!
The pearls I'd held in my hands with care...
They bounce trying to regain their seat,
Yet I fail them blinded by their frenzied pace.
Some I behold rolling on the mirror-like floor,
Some I know are lost in places unknown.
My scattered hope! My lost hope!
See how they 'rest in peace'
leaving me in ghostly restlessness...
I've often wondered why certain relationships don't reach the level we desparately want them to achieve. Also wondered why some others soar to unexpected heights. Something I read in Wish's blog comes to mind- It's because every person comes into your life either for a reason, a season or a lifetime, and if you can fit each person in your life into these categories, more can be gained out of every relationship.
If only it was as simple as that... No person who came into my life has left me without leaving a mark for a life time. It hurts every time I think of the sad demise of a happy friendship with Minu. Now when I look around to make new friends in a new environment, every emotion within me responds warily. Who can explain why she became such an important part of my very personality and why she wrote me off when we disagreed on a silly matter? Conversely, why does Anish invariably stand by me through thick and thin, despite the fact that we barely ever see eye to eye? How's it that I and Suba don't disagree on anything? We've chatted for hours without a single dissimilarity of opinion or taste.
What is the formulae for a lasting friendship?
What is the kiss of death in a relationship?
After some serious contemplation, this is the conclusion I've reached -Some relationships have wrong beginnings- wrong expectations, wrong assumptions wrong foundations. No matter how hard you try, they will never last.
The prodigal son... I love the possibility of returning to the Father even when everything's lost!
Behold how good and pleasant it is when brothers dwell together in unity... Ps 133:1
My very first classic paintingDear Jesus,
The Lord gets His best soldiers out of the highlands of affliction- C.H Spurgeon
The air was fresh and crisp last evening, as I watched the shuttlecock fly from side to side in the pale blue sky. I had just finished a good round of badminton with Papa, and now stood waiting for my turn as Papa tried his hand with my Sis. We were a rip-roaring trio that guiltlessly racked up the quietude of the surroundings. Who by turns both cheered and pulled each others' legs.
My Sis soldiered on to play well and every time she missed a shot, we could hear her shriek, 'Man! What's wrong with me?' As a kid, she competed with me in almost everything.Be it drawing a picture, brewing coffee or even sweeping the house. After the work was done, she'd call upon papa to judge it and declare the winner. The first time, he was fair in his duty. The whining and snivelling it brought forth from my Sis, however, taught him to judge better. She was the best- we learnt it the hard way...
But now, things are different. I've watched her slowly grow over a dozen years and now in a jiffy she seems threatening to overshoot my height! Now she has grown to love me, appreciate me... In fact, she keeps me going! Even now, as I played, I could hear her cheering from behind, 'Come on Chech, you can do it!'
Once we wound up our game, 'Papa' called out my sis. 'Tell me who plays better'.
'You', came the obvious reply.
'No...' cried my unsatisfied Sis. She has outgrown the age of jealousy and was only looking for an honest answer to assess her skill. Nevertheless, Papa would not take a chance.
'Please tell me the truth', she implored again. With bated breath I waited to hear my name, but Papa's answer left us all laughing
'Then', he said gravely 'it must be me'.
For me, the symbol of blood in Christianity was one among the vaguely understood concepts. So to speak, almost as mysterious as the Holy Trinity. What did it mean to be cleansed by the Blood? (Imagine washing your robes with blood and finding them clean white!) If viewed apart from faith, it would seem highly irrational. However, thanks to the book I received as a new year gift from a generous person who wishes to remain anonymous, and to my mentor who picked it for me.
Although this book covers a vast range of topics, the section on blood intrigued me the most. I shall put down some interesting insights gathered from its pages, especially for those with whom I share my spiritual growth.
This is the Blood shed on Calvary...For the life and salvation of all mankind.
Shed blood often engenders the image of death. Therefore, it's sometimes difficult to imagine how it could mean life to a christian! In your determination to read the Bible from cover to cover, if you've ever managed to plod through endless laws and regulations in Leviticus, you'd also have come across a stern commandment which forbids us from drinking blood.(Lev 3:17, 7:26,27 17:11,14 Duet 12:23) It was a law to be followed even by the new gentile Christians.(Acts15:29) For the life of a creature is in its blood (so if you drank buffalo's blood, its life would enter into you). No wonder many who followed Jesus silently withdrew from Him after H e made the public statement: I tell you the truth, unless you eat the flesh of the Son of Man and drink from his blood, you have no life in you.
When every Sunday, at the Lord's table you drink from the cup, a blood transfusion occurs! His life is transfused into your pale anaemic spirit man.
Cleansed by the Blood...
There's a wonderful experiment mentioned in the book to illustrate blood's cleansing power. Try it if you get a chance. You'll need a B.P apparatus. Wrap the cuff around your upper arm and pump it up to 200mm - adequate pressure to cut off your blood supply to the lower arm. Now perform simple tasks with that hand, like driving a nail in a block of wood. Initially, you'll notice no difference but almost suddenly, a hot flash of pain strikes you. Your muscles cramp and if you continue with it, you'll probably cry out like a wounded child!
Explanation:
As muscles convert oxygen into energy, they produce certain waste products that normally would have been flushed away instantly in the blood stream. Because of the constricted blood flow, however, these wastes accumulated in your cells. They were not cleansed by the swirling stream of blood, and therefore in a few minutes you felt the agony of retained toxins.
Toxin in christian life is SIN. Is Jesus' blood circulating in all areas of your life?
Overcoming by the Blood...
This can be best explained through 'convalescent serum' used in immunisation. It is simply the blood of an overcomer.i.e, The blood of a person who has experienced a disease and has defeated it. When injected into another person, this convalescent serum with ready antibodies against a particular disease gives the host body enough time to produce its own antibodies. Therefore, the immunised person overcomes a disease not by his/her own resistance or vitality but as a result of a battle that had taken place previously within someone else.
Heb2:18 'Because He Himself suffered when He was tempted, He is able to help those who are being tempted.'
He has overcome the world!
For more information, grab a copy of 'IN HIS IMAGE' by Dr. Paul Brand and Philip Yancey from your nearest christian book store!
As for me, I'm looking forward to receive the Holy Qurbana... Now with a renewed mind!
Life has once again put forward various options before me. I'm at my wit's end, don't know what the right decision would be... Man, all these options are equally tempting but on my choice depends the whole course of my destiny. please pray for me that I decide wisely.
God bless.
New year's dawned in our lives and with it have dawned new hopes for tomorrow. This year especially is a turning point in my life. I'll be joining work very soon. In fact, I got a call today from the hosp with which I have a contract, asking me to join asap.
There's something that worries me though... I'm offered a job in a maternity and child care speciality hospital- I've had a tough time even during the clinical postings in my student life. Don't know how I can make a living in that line. The moments when I stood in the labour ward, fruitlessly trying to console ladies writhing in pain are still alive in my mind. I don't mind this part of my job, but the delivery in itself makes my knees tremble. That queasy feeling in my tummy and the sudden loss of consciousness are more than what I can bear.
It's again a matter of choice, I can either accept or reject it. However, I don't know if God has chosen this path for me. If He asks me to go, I will. As for the weakness of mine, I'm convinced that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.
God bless
Have a blessed new year!
