Damage Vs. Deterioration

I had a procedure today, a slight one done here at Green Park Hospital on the 3rd floor (the green floor). This floor is unique in that it holds a small Operation Theatre as well as a Labor Room; I, of course, veered right towards the Operation Theatre. There I met OP and his gang, along with Dr. Ashish.

The injection today was stuck strategically at the base of my spine so that I could be graciously placed quasi-upside down to let the cells flow in the direction of my brain. This reverse motion is not much unlike the way our own bodies respond to stimuli. The nervous system has a sort of dual function in that an external point will be felt by the sensory nerves at the extremities and be sent from the accessory nerves to the spinal cord and brain. From there, your brain processes that feeling and reacts by sending a reply of electricity (through the motor nerves) downward to that same location to create the appropriate response.

After it was all over, I was placed in room 305 to rest for 4 hours until I could turn to one side and eventually sit up. This room was small, square, and lacked any translucency to the outside world. Because of this, the room was pitch black without the lights on... which turned into a welcomed discovery to both Graham and myself.

Although I am beginning to love my orange room here on the 1st floor, keeping the windows exposed at all times so that I am always aware of the happenings there on Green Park Extension, it can be a little loud and eternally lit up with business signs and car lights. Therefore, making darkness simply a thing of the past.

With all of that said, Graham and I were both out as the lights as soon as we had this such realization.

Throughout all of this time in deep sleep, I also seemed to produce a fair amount of deep thought as well. One thing that has stuck out in my mind a whole lot this trip so far has been the differences in the patients.

It is fairly obvious that people come from all over the world seeking virtually the same thing out of Dr. Shroff-- to get better. But getting better is something entirely different for each of us. I have figured that there are two very distinct problems that people suffer from that end up here: those with physical damage and those with physical deterioration. To some this may sound like one in the same, but alas, they are quite different indeed.

The patient (like me) that ails from damage engulfs these stem cells as a way to attempt to permanently repair attributes in their bodies that cannot be repaired on their own. Any improvement that this patient regains, will hold with them for as long as they hold on to this world. This is very promising, because if you do the math, this patient has much calculation for improvement.

On the other hand, the patient that suffers from deterioration, like the Lyme Disease patients and the patients with MS and ALS will still see improvement, and it seems like sometimes at a much more rapid pace. However, the truth about a disease or malfunction due to deterioration is that the body will continue to breakdown, regardless of the influx of those little cells. So patients in this category must resort to viewing their bodies like vehicles that will only rely on sufficient amounts of gasoline to continue to thrive. These patients' bodies will continue to falter and the cells will only improve their current status.

In my experience here, I have come to know well many such patients and commend them for such courage, strength, and grace of being. Each of these beautiful people could not be more deserving of a life, poolside, with little umbrella drinks and oiled massages. But for some reason, somewhere along the line, life handed them a tsunami that soiled their surroundings and flattened their insides. How is this fair? How is any of it tolerable?

All that I can say is that much respect and heart go out to those who deal with things far beyond my stretch of knowledge, far beyond what is right and just, and far beyond the tepid woes of modern man.

Second Chances

Now being my second time around here, I feel that I have grown accustomed to many things:

• exact timings don't occur exactly as planned
• all children don't necessarily want to play
• yes, no, and maybe all are recognized visually as the same bobbing head
• pain means that it's working
• eating curried goodies with dirtied hands simply makes you stronger (except maybe for Graham)
• a smile is truly recognized as warmth, nothing more and absolutely nothing less
• traffic jams at 2 a.m.
• the smell incense and the songs of Ganesha in the morning
• elephants on the highway
• rainbow colors in the most unlikely of places
• welcomed pokes of little stem cells twice a day, like clockwork

And now for the things that I probably should be accustomed to by now, but, shamefully, aren't:

• rickshaw drivers with lead feet
• babies that don't know how to cry
• feeling like I could have tried harder than I did
• the weather
• the anticipation of things to come (this should be encouraging, and mostly is, yet it is still not something that I can get used to)
• literal understanding of bad cliches and poorly sarcastic remarks
• knowing that I am successful, no matter what

When I was greeted today with a familiar face of a patient I met only a few 4 short months ago, he remarked, "Wow, I didn't expect to see YOU back here!" Although I am not quite sure what that comment was supposed to invoke in me, it left me with a definite linger of something. If it hadn't, I wouldn't be sitting here 8 hours later fitting it into a blog that had no prior purpose nor appointment.

I suppose that some might say that from my attitude of not necessarily wanting to put full faith into this project and questioning even the most apparent of signs when I started it, that maybe, ya, it is strange for me to dive back in... but what you may not know is that I am a fighter, a fighter that is true to her soul.

I may outwardly behave as the skeptic, or the stoic, who may not recognize a true miracle when it hits her smack dab in the spinal cord... or better yet, may be confused by one. I think that it comes down to the fear of potential disappointment, or even scarier, potential realization that sometimes it isn't totally up to me.

Yes, it was, in fact, my choice to venture out on this very wobbly and extended limb-- but hey, wouldn't you? There is a far reaching sense of opportunity and fear, and with it comes the equally penetrating sense that I can't control every outcome. And somehow, all of this unease makes a powerful sentiment into my life.

What I do know is that I have to take risks sometimes in attempt to find what I might not have known I had been seeking all along. Again, on the outside, I may not show that I am in search of anything, especially on my own accord... but yet my eyes remain open to the most tumultuous of advances.

So to answer his statement, although realizing that it was not so much a question to be answered: I may have known it all along or I may have feared its return, but either way, I am here (and here NOW) and that should say enough for eternity.

A Lazy Sunday Afternoon

Being Sunday and all, our only "free day" and a break from Physio and any major happenings, Graham and I had big plans to make it up to Old Delhi today. Old Delhi is a place that I haven't yet ventured, full of even more crowds and culture and everything so delightful to me. We were going to discover the Red Fort, one of Delhi's oldest and LARGEST tourist attractions. It used to be a palace during the times of the Moghuls and now is a site that surrounds the hustle and bustle of everyday modern Indian life.

The problem, however, was that Graham's stomach is apparently not as strong as mine. HA! Actually, I feel rather empathetic towards his digestive tract. I will spare you the details, except for saying that the only venturing out he has done today is to that porceline Krishna that I've grown to love as a shower bench.

We've traded positions for today: I am the caregiver and he is the patient (and a whiny and sleepy one at that).

Anyways, this unplanned for time in our room has given me the chance to put together a bit of a scrappy video of some of the events that played out yesterday. I wanted to make a video because words cannot ever describe all of the magic and spirit that carried through the air yesterday. I hope you enjoy!

A Very Delhi Christmas

I invite you all to experience my Christmas in Delhi. It was an extremely colorful one filled with laughs and good cheer, boxed up Italian take-out, and new friends here over at the Green Park Hospital.

They decorated, complete, with a life-sized version of Santa Claus, a stellar faux pine dressed to the max, a cow of many colors trotting down the street, tulle of shimmery pink and purple hung from the ceiling, and balloons that just so happened to remind us that Indians can celebrate Christmas as good (if not better) than the rest of us.

It was good to spend Christmas with my friends here in Delhi, although I miss my time at home as well. A few of the patients and us talked well into the night, comparing our past Christmasses and families together. All in all, a very nice job well done for the quite unorthodox holiday in this far-off land.

Opened Doors

I knew things were going to be different this trip, but I had no way of anticipating the difference in the procedures as well. The procedure that I had yesterday was an epidural injection, which I endured for the first time in the summer. From what I could remember, it was a painless procedure that left no lasting remarks other than lying flat under lopsided bricks for 5 hours.

This same procedure that I had yesterday came as quite a surprise to me. Same protocol: small room, even smaller bathroom, change to hospital gown, insert IV cannula (twice for good measure), carry me onto the gurney, wheel down to the Operation Theatre, and greet a smiling Dr. Ashish. Same thing, different date... or so I thought.

As Dr. Ashish began poking my vertebrae to find the perfect space and landmarks for the injection, I noticed one slight change-- I could feel where he was prodding around! Immediately everyone sensed my nervousness, heightened by the incessant beeping of the heart-rate monitor... so a few numbing injections were set in place. Dr. Ashish soothed me by telling me that he checked his notes from last time and was trying a little bit of a different approach, that he felt would give me the most optimum of benefits. My nerves subsided, emotionally that is.

From there, he began to inject the cells towards the right side of my spine from what I could tell. Surprisingly, a shear sense of pain and impulse was sent directly towards the base of my lungs and near my heart. I felt like I had the most horrendous side cramp and heartburn all in the same instance. My body writhed on its own, a poor attempt at trying to get away from the beautiful foreign matter spewing into my back. I talked myself into trying to calm down. I wanted to invite these cells in, and not be rigid and scared. I wanted to greet them at the front door with open arms and an all-American apple pie.

It was so terribly hard.

The pains were increasing and I could feel the injections coming into my spine, now on the left side. Immediately a scorching amount of heat shot up my spine, into my neck. Pressure filled my head. There was a lot of worrying taking place in my head at this point, for that is how I remembered the last procedure that I had in the summer (which put me flat out for almost a week).

As all of this was happening, I relayed every part of it to Dr. Ashish and his crew, to the point of telling them repeatedly that my back was going to explode. In a calm manner, Dr. Ashish simply replied, "Can you tolerate it?" Of course I could tolerate it. I could tolerate anything!

Once it was over, I realized that my whole body was sweating and Dr. Ashish confessed that his was too. What a powerful moment. It only took a few minutes for the pressure and tightness throughout my body to leave and for my optimism to return. This was a good one! We all decided.

Dr. Ashish patted me on the head and told me that I did a terrific job. It feels good to make him proud.

From there I spent the next 5 hours in bed. Graham did a great job of keeping me busy with some bad jokes, passages about far-away lands, makeshift wall-ball games, airplanes down the hatchet, and the Discovery Channel. All in a day's work for him, I suppose.

Today I feel rejuvenated and ready to go. The only small reminder from the pain of yesterday is isolated into one small injection site on my back. This is the door to many things to come, hopefully.

A Brief Update

I seem to be almost getting back into the swing of things, gaining my barrings, getting my sea legs back.... I have physio at 9am and 2pm.

During the 9 o'clock session I do normal mat stretches and exercises reminiscent of the ones I did in the summertime. Chavi thinks that I can flex my right hamstring and left inner thigh... but I am yet to be so convinced. I suppose that Graham thinks so too--he taped it for you all, so you would decide for yourself. He is becoming quite the camera man, hopefully to all of your likings (minus the sideways video shots). In addition to the normal stretches, Chavi has me get on the floor on a mat to do some yoga poses on all fours, along with crawling and kneeling.

At 2pm I come back down refreshed after an inventive veg-lunch, ready to walk. Yesterday I walked more than I ever had in my calipers. Four times down and back with some backwards walking and side-stepping mixed in. I was extremely wobbly and sore afterwards, but at least it is a start. Today's walking session was much better--I walked this morning because I have my first procedure in about 20 minutes.

Graham and I will be hopping in a taxi shortly to head over to Gautam Nagar Hospital to join Dr. Ashish in my first procedure. From what I remember, it is a short procedure of only lying flat for 5 hours while they prime my spinal cord for the rest of my stay here in Delhi. We are in the middle of packing up our books, music, and pillows to prepare for the long day ahead.

On a side note... Dr. Ashish and Dr. Sudeep have joined forces in finding me a swimming pool, since it is far too COLD for outdoor pools to be open this time of year (you've got to be kidding me!). Anyways, I appreciate their compassion for my addiction and hopefully we will all be successful in finding me an indoor oasis for this month's stay.

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve and it feels like all of the patients are getting ready for their departure home. The staff here is very good at dressing this place up like a winter wonderland and I am extremely excited to spend Christmas Day with all of my friends here. There is also a huge party scheduled for the 27th where all of the staff are to perform for us... which I am dying to see! I love this place.

One of the greatest things about New Delhi is the fact that you can jump in an auto-rickshaw and literally go market to market to find all of your necessary goods... though it is never quite done on time nor without some great life lesson and ridiculous adventure.

In just two days, Graham and I have already traveled from Palika Bazaar to Connaught Place to Janpath Market to Visant Vihar to Sarojini Nagar Market and to India Gate. We are busy kiddos. One of the most interesting aspects of it all is how I am so admittedly stared at. Personally, I'd like to consider it due to my overflowing charm and emanating beauty, but really I believe it has more to do with my fair skin and accompanied wheels.

It is almost like we are celebrities, getting our photos taken conspicuously by shiny cell phones and shaking hands with groups of young men as they watch us in the most mundane of activities.

Getting around New Delhi isn't much of a feat for me, namely because I pay little mind to those who stare and employ the rest for help up sharp curbs and over swiss cheese-like sidewalks.

That is the thing I love about Indians, they are so willing to help out and ask for nothing in return... unless they are a beggar, but even then they will help you in an instance, free of charge. The people here simply just want to know about you and know you. They are caring people with amazing hearts and souls that flow so much like the surrounding humid air. This place will never cease to thrill me or capture a piece of me either.

The Difference Between Blue and Orange

As much as I hoped for my old room 208 at the Green Park Hospital, being the largest room with a balcony and even a cushy shower chair, I was stuck on the 1st floor: the orange floor. At first it appeared rather intrusive. See: The bedsheets are orange, the curtains are orange, the wall panels are orange, the light fixtures are orange, the sofa-cum-bed is orange, everything is ORANGE.

Now, usually orange is one of my favorite colors, you should know. In fact, both my kitchen and bathroom at home are painted orange. But for some reason, this was bad news to me at first. Perhaps it was the initial shock of change that seems to getch-ya every time.

It appeared to get even worse once I stepped into the bathroom half the size as before...because what I discovered was that the toilet was in the shower!

I am still a little confused about what I am supposed to do with a toilet in the shower other than make a wet mess of everything in it. In fact, the first shower I took on the stupid thing I slipped off and hit my head on that porcelain beast. Go figure!

On the brighter side, Graham and I got settled in very easily with all of our luggage and daily reminders of home. We even decorated a bit for Christmas. I was thrilled to find out that we are to have a great party on Christmas day and the lobby is even fully equipped with our very own Americanized Christmas tree and blow-up-doll Santa Claus.

But now our stockings are hung up on the wall with great care and a little packaging tape, we have a eensy-weensy Christmas tree that gets a new present under it everyday--courtesy of Sarah, who spent way to much time and effort to have a gift for Graham and I for everyday of our stay in Green Park. So far we've gotten some chocolate, an ankle bracelet for me, a list of things to do for Graham, and a bar of soap because the soap at the old hospital was rather displeasing to Sarah (as she remembers it).

My real schedule will start on Monday with Chavi, one of the most experienced physiotherapists that I know. She is direct, thorough, yet does everything with a brilliant smile. I think that I am really going to enjoy getting beat up by her everyday. This time around, it will be a bit different in that a lot of my physio will involve mat and floor work, which I am thrilled for. We tried a bit of crawling this morning, and like a little baby for the first time I was wobbly, to say the least.

As our circadian rhythms start to acknowledge India for all of its glory, I will be able to up-keep my blog a bit better. Please stay tuned.

One Last Thing

As I finish stuffing heavy things in my already oversized duffle bag, I am just NOW realizing that I am going to India... tomorrow! Actually, in 8 hours!

I am sure that there are millions of things that I have neglected to do and various people that I have been too submerged in life to return calls to or meet for lunches. For those of you out there, I owe you a sandwich or something.

The world continues to spin, so does my head as the adrenaline from a stressful day is starting to subside. At least I have had the sense to pack 14 pairs of underwear this time and a Costco-sized tub of extra-crunchy peanut butter.

The other thing I remembered to do is leave you all the local phone number that you can reach me (and Graham) at on my computer:

303-586-1808

Please call, even if to leave me a message about the cold weather or the over-indulgence of holiday cheer...

3, 2, 1... Blastoff!!

That's the countdown. I leave in 3 days.

I can hardly believe it. I have so much to do to prepare, plus working on getting rid of this lingering virus that seems to want to be my friend forever. Truth-be-told, I used to think it was kind of cool to lose your voice... but now that I am older and wiser, it is really just an annoyance. Alongside of that, I have developed a cough; I think probably just to remind me of the viral dance party that is going on in my throat and lungs. Although, I am sure any day now I will awake with clear sinuses, refreshed tracheal lining, and the energy to conquer. But until then...

There are only two days of school left. Am I going to be able to let go of my students and swimmers? It's going to be extremely hard. I am leaving them all in safe hands, but I do take a lot of pride in what I do. Because I am missing final exams, I have to not only feel like I've prepared the kiddos before I leave, but I also have to have all of the final review stuff and the actual final exam completed... just to name a small task that is buzzing in the "Things To Do" compartment of my cerebrum. But until then...

All of the stuff that I am trying to make sure is wrinkle-free and ready to wear while I am gone will get done and I will be on a plane before I even have time to blink. I don't even really feel like I have had the time to stop and think about my latest adventure: the treatment and my return to one of my favorite places. But until then...

I will work at getting everything checked off of that list in my brain and will figure it out once I don't manage to get all of it done. Everything will be okay... my virus will subside, classes will resume without me, and I will be out of the cold before I know.

ZINDAGI

It means LIFE in Hindi. It looks like:


What does it mean to me?

It means that there is a need for breath and a desire to explore.

It means that the sun always rises and sets just for me, and that is why I must awake the same with an eager smile and close my eyes at night with the hope for yet another tomorrow.

It means I have been given the chance to make this world exactly what I want it. I can set goals that, at times, feel unreachable... but those are the goals that are the most rewarding and make the most difference.

It means that twists and turns and bumps should be expected, and maybe even be invited to dinner.

It means that there are simple changes happening everyday, and it is my responsibility to take the time to notice. My body is slowly realizing its own potential and beginning to ask my brain to rely on it some more.

It means clouds and lavender and chocolate chip ice cream and tire swings and laughter and howling at the moon and love and sweat and holidays and high-5s and memories and tambourines and bicycles and wrinkles around the eyes and baby giggles and late-night phone calls and shooting stars and innocence and hugs and so much more in every single second of it.

It means I am doing precisely what I should be.

Performing With A Purpose

The following message was written by 4 lovely ladies who helped so much in my fund-raising efforts last year. You might better know them as the "basket girls". Anyways, they (and I) would like to announce their latest fund-raising masterpiece:

This year's fund-raiser will be a showcase of talent with dessert and other fun activities. The fund-raiser will be at the Double Tree Hotel in DTC on February 28, 2009. We are looking for performers (dancers, singers, magicians, etc) to showcase their talents at the event. There will be approximately 15 acts from 1-5 minutes in length with anywhere from one to four people. If you are interested in performing, send an email to performingwithapurpose@gmail.com. For those of you who wish to atted the event, save the date! More info to come.
Thank you so much~ Julia, Michelle, Lauren, and Cara