Interesting experiences in a normal week

1. I was introduced to the term ‘magnificent monotony’.

I have so much to say about ‘The ‘Ragamuffin Gospel’ but it’s going to have to wait till I’ve highlighted things, scribbled on it and then thought about it in total. It’s an odd book to read while doing cardio at the gym but it’s the only time I stay in one place these days. The problem, though, is so often the sentences or truths in it are so powerful that it literally stops me in my tracks. Result: Almost getting thrown off a treadmill or falling off an elliptical machine! No injuries so far though.  Anyway, the second chapter is about the ‘magnificent monotony’ of God’s love for you. Unchangeable, immovable love, that you can’t jeopardize or lessen because of your actions or failings.  And in this case the sheer monotony of this love is anything but boring.

2. I was challenged to reach out to new people by my friend Joel.

 Joel is one of the Lagans. The Lagans deserve a separate blog. For now, they’re an extraordinary family that ‘adopted’ me into their midst two years ago when I was at the lonely beginning of this New England sojourn!  Joel has the most amazing ability to walk up to absolute strangers and become friends with them in a matter of minutes (it’s how he became friends with me). This is a huge thing, especially in New England where its people are often as frosty as their climate (it’s a generalization I know but there is some truth in it).  Funnily enough I find myself starting to exhibit this trait of guardedness that I found so distasteful at the beginning. Yesterday, I met up with Joel and he introduced me to a new friend he had made while walking beside him on the sidewalk. The friend was a young man from Kenya of Indian descent. We had an interesting conversation. Interestingly the guy did admit that he initially wondered if Joel was on drugs or had an angle. Because that’s how unusual it is for someone to come up to you and make friendly conversation here. And I walked away yesterday wishing I could do the same. So I said hello to a stranger at the coffee shop today. It wasn’t the smoothest  conversation but it was something. And hey, I’ll get better at it.

3. I just noticed I’ve started making funny faces at myself at the gym.

I joined the gym (NYSC at Blue Back Square in West Hartford), a little over a year ago. It was prompted by my trip to Uganda, where starchy foods served by a matronly German woman resulted in a considerably ‘well-fed’ appearance.

 I found it funny when the denizens of NYSC would ‘regard’ themselves in the mirror. I loved that I could practice somersaults on the exercise mats and no one even spared me a glance. Everyone was just so involved in looking at themselves. Even if they were just walking to the water fountain.  I smirked inwardly.

  I’ve lost some weight though over the last year and while it literally is nothing to write home about I think I’ve also toned up a fair amount. So it was with some chagrin I realized I was doing the perfunctory water fountain walk between sets and  checking myself out in the mirror. Plus I’ve taken to wearing sleeveless T’s like the vast majority. Sigh. Burn. Hence the public confession.

4. Today I saw a little champ dance it out during worship at church.

 I go to church so infrequently. For a variety of reasons. The crazy hours and schedule of residency. When I do go the experience is so novel and exciting. And moving. And simple truths seem ground breaking and distantly remembered. That I realize may not entirely be a good thing. But we had worship at the beginning of service today… as usual. And this li’l guy, 6 or 7 years old, was just clapping his hands and dancing with complete abandon. It was glorious!

5.  I remembered people at different places in the world can see the same moon.

 There was a full moon yesterday, which was beautiful and I remarked about it while crossing the street in West Hartford with friends yesterday. I didn’t exactly get an enthusiastic response though.  But I stared on, mesmerized by how beautiful it was. Caleb Lagan, out in Simsbury, made a Facebook comment saying that he was outside his house watching the moon through the night. To which Tina, my shona, in India commented saying she had seen the same lovely moon earlier that day when it was night in India. Now I knew this….that it’s the same wherever you are in the world…but I had forgotten it. And it was nice to realize I looked at the same beautiful moon as my sweetheart two oceans away!

6. I bought a new coat from J Crew.  

I love it! However, I look like the Michellin Man in it. It’s functional and not really pro-fashion but it’s so comfortable. It’s my attempt to stave off winter’s numbing effect. It’s like walking around in a duvet!

I love this jacket! You just want to hug yourself!

Tell me these gloves are not cool?!

Also I insist on wearing these neat gloves I bought from Cusco in September all the time. My friends think I look like a dork. I think they’re cool! My fingers are free so while my hands are warm, I can actually do things like write…or use a key!

7. I did a one arm Aú at capoeira this Saturday!

 The Aú is one of the central moves in capoeira and is like a  cartwheel. Like a cartwheel. Not a cartwheel. Like one.  And before I started capoeira, the concept of cartwheels, somersaults, backflips, walking on my hands were so completely foreign to me  But I’m learning to do them! The one arm Aú is a variation where just one hand makes contact with the ground. I couldn’t do it a couple of months ago and hadn’t tried again till this Saturday and I could. Isn’t that an awesome feeling when you can suddenly do something you couldn’t?!

8. I have officially been named Godfather of Aarti Elizabeth Thejus.

 I called my friends Bobby and Numa over the weekend and heard little Aarti cooing in the background. I was pretty set that I would be Fantastic Uncle John that she could come and hang out with to get away from Bobby going on about Chesterton or Lewis (though I love Lewis myself) or Amartya Sen. I’d be the cool one from our generation. Bobby asked me if I would be Aarti’s godfather. So I have to trade in Fantastic Uncle John for Venerable Godfather John. Drat…now I have to be wise.

The Ragamuffin Gospel

I picked up this book as part of Barnes and Noble’s  “Buy 2, Get the 3^rd FREE” gimmick.

The message of outrageous grace and unconditional acceptance is breaking the hardness of my heart.

 I anticipate referring to this book a lot but for now…the foreword by Brennan Manning:

The Ragamuffin Gospel was written with a specific reading audience in mind.

This book is not for the superspiritual.

It is not for muscular Christians who have made John Wayne, and not Jesus, their hero.

It is not for academics who would imprison Jesus in the ivory tower of exegesis.

It is not for noisy, feel-good folks who manipulate their way into Christianity into a naked appeal to emotion.

It is not for hooded mystics who want magic in their religion.

It is not for Alleluia Christians who live only on the mountaintop and have never visited the valley of desolation.

It is not for the fearless and tearless.

It is not for the red-hot zealots who boast with the rich young ruler of the Gospels, “All these commandments I have kept from my youth.”

It is not for the complacent who hoist over their shoulders a tote bag of honors, diplomas, and good works, actually believing they have it made.

It is not for legalists who would rather surrender control of their souls to rules than run the risk of living in union with Jesus.

If anyone is still reading along, the Ragamuffin Gospel was written for the bedraggled, beat-up and burnt out.

It is for the sorely burdened who are still shifting the heavy suitcase from one hand to the other.

It is for the wobbly and the weak-kneed who know they don’t have it all together and are too proud to accept the handout of amazing grace.

It is for the inconsistent, unsteady disciples whose cheese is falling off their cracker.

It is for poor, weak, sinful men and women with hereditary faults and limited talents.

It is for earthen vessels who shuffle along on feet of clay.

It is for the bent and the bruised who feel that their lives are a grave disappointment to God.

It is for smart people who know they are stupid and honest disciples who admit they are scalawags.

 The Ragamuffin Gospel is a book I wrote for myself and anyone who has grown weary and discouraged along the Way.

                                                                                             - Brennan Manning

The little victories

  It’s odd. The cheeriest person in the room is also the sickest. Her disposition seems as upbeat as the bright sunlight streaming through the window, lighting up the many flower baskets placed there. I’ve been coming to this room every day for two weeks with not much else to offer but a smile and friendly words of inquiry.

 

  Looking around the room, one would see a huge poster with photographs of her life. A photo with her daughter … both of them staring out at you and laughing joyously. There’s a picture of her at her graduation and I wonder what she studied. Her wedding photograph … a beautiful bride beside her smiling husband. I haven’t seen the man smile once over the two weeks.

 

It doesn’t look good. The cancer’s aggressive. The treatment’s palliative.  Time’s limited.

  But she’s perky. Upbeat. She always has a joke or two to tell me. I smile at her never sure if it’s appropriate to smile at her jokes. Her mother’s in an armchair, by the window, not smiling at her jokes. Her husband, well I can almost feel his silent grief intensify beside me with each attempt she makes to lighten the atmosphere. Can you blame them though? Because I can’t.  They won’t have her in a few months.

  I see something new. I’ve seen it before. In my own family.  It happens when you realize how frail you are. When you’ve been told there’s no cure.  I notice first the bottle of holy water tucked under her pillow. I see a rosary hanging off the bed.  They’re doing what we say medically. The cycles of chemo. But they’re also reaching out to the Infinite. They’re asking for a miracle. 

 We talk about the little things. How it was good that she walked the corridor twice today. How she’s able to keep food down better today. How awful hospital food is.

The little victories. They seem to be enough for now. Day by day.

 We chat for a little while longer and I take my leave wishing them a good day. Her mother looks over, smiles and thanks me for coming to spend time with them. She has a kind face. The lady herself says “Same time tomorrow?” “You can count on it,” I reply. “Thanks for coming doctor.”

  I turn to leave.  She’s done more for me than I for her. And all I can think is, it’s just not fair.   

Ansu's wedding

So last week we all went down to  New Rochelle in New York for Ansu's wedding. It was a lot of fun. I'm not going to write too much about it. The pictures should say it all....

Group shot of the UConn resident represent!

The bride and groom

With Rina....bridesmaid

Early in the evening with drinks and eats

With Meena, who was post-call but still chipper 

Adarsh and Vanjul

With Aashir....the newest Mathur baby

Ansu dancing with her dad

Bhangra!

Everyone getting into the dancing

Vanjul and Adarsh...there was a lot of Indian music

Ximena dressed very elegantly

The girls breaking it down with the bride

Fun in the photo booth..Take 1!

Take 2

Adarsh dumbstruck after Vanjul's display of affection.

Johnny D kicked Johnny V

As many as we can fit into the photo booth!

Yeah, it was a lot of fun :)!

On one condition.....

It was 11:00 pm in the ED and I returned a page to the ER front desk with what was becoming resignation.

''Hey, is this the MOD (Medical Officer of the Day)? Hey how are ya?! I have another one for you."

Great....I added the 8th patient of the night to an already backlogged list. ''Go on," I said anything but willing to be chatty.

''He's here from the DOC (Department of Corrections) and for foreign body ingestion. GI (gastroenterology) went into scope (endoscope-basically looking down his gut with a tube containing a camera and tools you can operate remotely) him but couldn't retrieve it.''

“And what exactly was ‘it’ ?'' I asked with strained politeness.

Ask anyone who’s been MOD…...you just wish ER would just give you a half decent sign-out (apologies to the ER residents I genuinely like - though crappy sign-outs are usually from antiquated ER attendings and not so much ER residents!). It’s either a scant one liner followed by “This guy really looks sick.” Or vague waffle followed by “This guy looks really sick.”  Yeah, they came to the hospital…they better look sick. Sorry, I digress…

''A straightened paper clip.'' ''Why'd he swallow a paper clip? Does he have a psych history?''

''Yeah, probably. But it's the same BS...just trying to get a way out of the DOC.''

Oh, I thought...of course...why didn't I think of that? So we admitted him and the plan was to keep monitoring him in case he perforated his bowels and track the progress of the clip with daily abdominal XRays. Later that night my pager rang with a call from his nurse who wanted me to order a 1:1 sitter for him. A one to one sitter refers to a person who sits with a patient all the time to make sure they don't do something silly or dangerous. Usually for people who are suicidal or agitated. ''Why?'' I asked again knowing that this was already a redundant question. "He keeps trying to eat his EKG leads." Really?! I said I'd take care of it. Not like I wasn’t already drowning in work down in ER.

See the straight white line in front of his vertebrae? That's the clip.

 When I saw him the next morning as I rounded I asked about his craving for things not normally featured on a regular hospital menu. Or even a progressive hospital menu. He protested and was visibly embarrassed. As I turned to leave he asked me in a hesitant manner if I could order him some extra drinks since he was on a liquid diet and was hungry.

 I turned around, holding the door open to leave and looked at him.

And I saw a guy who just maybe tried to get a break from the ‘slammer’.

To buy himself better surroundings or better food. Or to get away from who knows what in prison. Anyone who thinks opting for hospital food is a better option...well that person has it rough. I said I'd look into it and ordered Boost drinks in between his meals since I needed to keep it liquid. And I even ordered different flavors for each Boost he got through the day.  That’s how nice I am. I’m kidding...it was such a pitifully insignificant thing to do for him.

The funny thing was he seemed happy about it the next day and it was obvious that he was warming to me. That's all it took to make him happy.

We're not allowed to ask them what they're in for and rarely do we talk about their life in prison. Sometimes we hear rumours going around about what a patient did. Sometimes it's petty crime and other times it's more shocking.

But I prefer not knowing.

Because it's easier to treat them like people then. They’re not pathetic losers. They’re not monsters. Ignorance is redeeming. I almost don't care what they did. Because they're being punished for it. But someone's got to be able to show some kindness to them. They may not deserve it by most people's judgment (including mine) in the light of their previous actions.

But that's my point.

I need to not know to be able to show them love.

Conditional love.

It makes unconditional love much harder to pass by, right?

PS. We did get the paper clip out eventually after a few days and a few XRays that showed it was going no where!

Going in with the endoscope to look for it.

Got it!

Simple post call pleasures

 One of the sweetest things about being on call for thirty hours is leaving once it’s done.   

   Yes, you leave with the feeling that you did fix a few people and at least took care of the others. But just the act of leaving is delicious in itself. To be reintroduced into the sunny world outside especially after all you’ve seen for the last day and a half has been the insides of the ER and wards.

  The adrenaline that kept you going for those long hours finally starts to ebb. And you just loosen and look. 

One of the most delightfully refreshing things to look at is normal healthy people. Who might just be walking down the street or sitting outside cafes engaged in conversation. Or jogging by you. Or walking their dog. And it is such a pleasure to see that after your heart’s ached for people who are just too sick to do any of that.

  And  at this time of the year, part of the recuperation process is the phenomenon of fall. Crunchy leaves swirling underfoot on the sidewalk. Cool crisp fall air reaching in through your window.  Golden sunlight filtering through leaves that range from amber  to ochre to burnt sienna to crimson.  

Back to normal life…..which feels good. 

Reconsidered

 I want to write. Simple. I’ve been offered blogging as a way to do so before. Granted it’s not the most original way to write. But that’s the question.

The question that has kept me from blogging.

“Who is this for? Me? Or for other people?’’

Fragmented, yes. But a question, nonetheless.

 I used to write and enjoyed it. I used it, like many people I suppose, to talk to myself. To engage in a conversation with myself in a way slightly less dizzying than having evanescent thoughts flutter in and out of my mind. 

I haven’t written in a very long time though. And I think that’s been reflective of that fact that I haven’t stopped much to look at life of late. Far from ‘being all there’, my life has taken on such a frenetic pace in an effort to maximize productivity. With the result of days having flown by and not very many thoughts spared to them or the people present or events that occurred during them.

And that, I feel, is a sorry state.  

Not to have seen beauty in your daily life despite circumstances that maybe happy or sad. Because there is no such thing as a perfect life is there? And is monotony truly inescapable? Or is it something we just create for ourselves and then allow ourselves to believe?

Here’s the challenge that I put forth…. to myself.  To start to examine life again as one who has not lost the ability to wonder at it. To un-harden a heart that’s become inured by daily life. To be a thoughtful passerby. At the very least. To ponder upon people I meet.  To remember that world is so much larger than I perceive. To consider a poem or good literature. To make up new words!

So, I will begin to talk to myself outside my head again. And to whoever stops by, I bid you welcome and say now that I am grateful for the company….

                  THE ELIXIR                      

TEACH me, my God and King,

In all things Thee to see,

And what I do in anything,

To do it as for Thee.

Not rudely, as a beast,

To run into action ;

But still to make Thee prepossest,

And give it his perfection.

A man that looks on glass,

On it may stay his eye,

Or, if he pleaseth, through it pass,

And then the heav'n espy.

All may of Thee partake ;

Nothing can be so mean

Which with his* tincture (for Thy sake)

Will not grow bright and clean.

A servant with this clause

Makes drudgery divine :

Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws,

Makes that and th' action fine.

This is the famous stone

That turneth all to gold ;

For that which God doth touch and own

Cannot for less be told.

George Herbert