life

Day 803

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She is in her early forties – single, tall, professional, gorgeous, glamorous, fun party girl who takes multiple multivitamins and visits the gym regularly. Every fortnight she has a new love story for me. Each of them has an exciting beginning, holding great promise. But somewhere in the heat of text messages sent too early or too late, certain feelings expressed or not, wrong emoji used, misinterpretations, unmet expectations, awkward silences and undisclosed relevant facts, the story evaporates. The deeper delicate shimmering layers of her persona lie concealed beneath her outer veneers. Not many get to witness the pure, fragile vulnerability within, hidden like a pearl.

Below is a humorous but painfully true, already outdated summary of some modern relationships that I chanced upon on social media:

“Dating in 2016

Let’s be friends, just friends, I’m not ready for a relationship but I expect you to do things with me considered inappropriate in terms of a friendship. We’re not together, you can’t claim me, you can’t be with anyone but me. I need you to be loyal but I’ll do what I want and when you get mad, I’ll just tell you we’re not together. If you catch feelings, I’ll become distant. You knew what this was…I told you, I’m not ready for a relationship.”

Day 802

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Water Water Everywhere
(A short story)

She lives in sheltered accommodation. As an octogenarian, it is safer. Her sons think so. When she moved in, she had hoped for some company. She likes a bit of chit-chat. She enjoys people. But she is fairly content. Every other day she neatly pins her hair up, wears one of her long skirts with a woolly jumper, wraps herself up in her sea-green duffle coat, puts on a smile and walks to the high street.

Betsy goes to the post-office to buy and post a card for her grand daughter’s birthday. She picks one with flowers and butterflies and queues. The only other person in the queue is a young woman. She has big black cordless head-phones with a ‘b’ in red covering her ears. She also has a vacant look in her eyes. It seems she is elsewhere. No chance of a chat here. When Betsy arrives at the window, the teller appears to be preoccupied. He is worried that the Post office might have to close down soon. He’s not sure how soon. That worries her. Last year her bank had shut down the branch on this high street.

She used to be able to go to the GP Surgery on days she felt a bit off. In the waiting area she often ran into someone she knew. It was good. But now the rules have changed. There are screens with smiley pictures and buttons. Appointments have to be made weeks in advance. One can’t just show up. Now, she feels like an outsider at her own surgery. She doesn’t like to go there anymore.

The grocery store is always a good place for a chat. The staff are friendly. Sometimes she even runs into familiar faces. She strolls around at her own pace and picks up a pint of milk and a pack of 80 PG tips teabags. As she approaches her favourite part, the check out desk, she is ushered in a perfunctory manner towards three ugly self check-out machines. That confuses her. She is not sure what to do.

It’s been one week since she spoke to anyone. On TV they said that the population of the world is the highest ever and rising – 7.4 billion! That must have lots of zeros.

Where is everyone?

Day 801

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There are many doctors who still believe that if a person is serious about killing themselves then there is nothing they can do. That is a myth

Feeling actively suicidal is temporary, even if someone has been feeling low, anxious or struggling to cope. The majority of people who feel suicidal do not actually want to die, they just want to stop the pain. This is why getting the right kind of support at the right time is so important.

The purely medical model of symptoms = diagnosis = medication does not work for mental illness as there are many social factors that can serve as important contributors and resources. Paying attention to the concerns of carers and empowering them with relevant information and points of professional contact is crucial.

“A large percentage of individuals who end their life by suicide have had contact with primary care around the time of their death.” Luoma et al 2002.
(https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/12042175)

Suicide is the single biggest killer of young people in the UK. Unless Human factors training and Suicide Prevention Training is made mandatory for all frontline medical staff, just like CPR training is, we will continue to silently loose thousands of beautiful people through suicide year after year.

I dedicate this plea to the memory of my darling son Saagar Naresh who would have been 23 this year. RIP my love.

Ref: http://www.samaritans.org/how-we-can-help-you/myths-about-suicide

Day 798

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Everyday presents opportunities for change but the very last day of the year makes me think harder about them. What do I want to change? Stop? Start? Improve? Loose?

All these come from a place of non-acceptance. I would like to be in a state of acceptance, starting with myself. I am fine. I give myself permission to be as quirky, kind, silly, funny, generous, happy, spontaneous, sorrowful as I like, as long as I am authentic. Completely and unapologetically true to myself, irrespective of what anyone else thinks. There is only one of me. I embrace all aspects of myself, knowing that I am the best version of myself at this moment in time.

It’s fear that stops us being ourselves, mostly fear of rejection. If I never reject myself, no one else’s rejection would matter. If I proudly stick with who I really am, I can’t go wrong.

I honour all I have been through and all those who have helped me. Despite everything, life is good. It is full of love and blessings. I have the perfect role model. Someone who has never been afraid to express himself fully and be his wonderful self, spreading joy!

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We wish you a peaceful 2017! May you unwrap your wonderfulness and spread bliss! xxx

Day 797

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My generation is the last one to have grown up in a world without screens. Being an army family we were often stationed at faraway places in India where the TV signal was too faint to be picked up. It was an occasional luxury to see a snowy screen in black and white that showed a hazy picture after much manipulation of the rooftop aerial and imploring of the Gods. Our neighbours were kind about sharing their big black telephone with us in case of an important call.

One day a magic box called the ‘cassette player’ arrived. It was a source of great pleasure as we could listen to songs of our choice as and when we liked as opposed to waiting for them to be played on the radio.

A radio that was presented to my parents at their wedding travelled with me to medical school. All through my time there I planned my life around it. My favourite station, All India Radio Urdu Service finished broadcasting at half past 12 at night and hence bedtime was 1 am. By the end of my 5 and a half years there, I had to use sharpened matchsticks to enable the worn little bandwidth buttons to maintain electrical contact. I depended on it. It was my most prized possession, my window to the world.

I remember standing in queues to make phone calls from a manned telephone booth without a door or walls. At the time it wasn’t fun as my side of the conversation was easily audible to all present. There was no time or space for small talk as I was most aware of everyone around especially those awaiting their turn.

That was a beautiful world and so is this. Now it’s so wonderfully easy to stay connected with people all over the world, to share our thoughts and ideas. Our screens can be our windows to the world and allow us to connect across previously unfathomable distances. It has been a blessing for me to be able to share Saagar with you. Thank you for walking with me.