When It Rains

Yesterday began and ended with dreary, drizzling rain. Our morning swim wasn't effected much, other than it being a little bit slippery and more expensive (rickshaw drivers hike up the price when you are sopping wet and pathetic). As we headed out of the sports complex in a drippy attempt to hail a rickshaw to take us back home for Physio, Michael uttered the comment that it was going to be a long day... I had no idea he meant for me as well!

The rain has never been a good source for stalling my vision, so shortly after lunch I headed out with Erin to the market to get some pants made. We stopped at a small shop that I had had a pair of pants copied the week earlier. I warned Erin of the hassle that might await us, seeing as no one in the shop speaks much English, and the small detail that I think that the tailor doesn't think that I ever paid. This turned out to be more of a problem that I had anticipated... poor naive me.

The entire shop is the size of an apartment bathroom in New York City. All 4 walls covered floor to ceiling in folds of fabrics. Reds, blues, greens, yellows, teals, violets, flower patterns, polka dots, argyle, and more flowers. The shop had neglected inviting in visitors that may exceed a size thicker than a toothpick, so a lot of rearranging of furniture had to be made just to get my chair in the door. I was slowly greeted by the aged (yet semi-warm) owner of the store, his agile and nimble caddies of fabrics, and the crotchety tailor. Sounds like the 3 men in the tub, no?

I immediately began my prepared explanation of the pants I desired and how they needed to be cut and stitched. As soon as words started coming from my mouth so did my universal language of charades. Stopping myself after only a few gestures, I noticed that the tailor was not really receiving my attempt at the scissor portion of Rock, Paper, Scissors. I asked the old man at the front desk if he was okay because I had already wearily determined that he was the only one who could understand parts of my Hinglish. The old man said, "He say you no pay him last time." Was he serious? Was this just what these guys do to make a couple more bucks? It'd be okay to pay him another 8 dollar equivalent for the pants, they were really cheap... but it was principle, right?

Trying desperately to explain how I know that I paid, I think that my quiet game of charades became a little hostile. I told both men that I paid each of them separately and I remember that specifically, one for fabric and one for the stitching. There was going to be no convincing this guy. I even questioned him about my returning to the store and how it would be foolish if I had stiffed him before. Nope, nothing... not even the Hindi head-nod.

Finally I just had to leave. It was a good thing that Erin was with me. She not only helped to hold back my tears; but also to act as the scaffolding for my head, just barely managing to keep it on straight long enough to know when it was time to go.

Everything turned out for the best, minus the whole knowing-that-someone-thinks-you're-a-crook type thing. Erin and I found another shop that turned out to be cheaper, less accusatory, a fair more English savvy, and faster in turn-around.

And today I awoke to sunshine, knowing that there is always a silver lining... no matter how much it rains, how hard, or for how long. You just have to stick with your guns, your goals, and your friends to help pass the time until those stinkin' nimbus clouds pass by your troposphere above.

A Step In Time

Forwards, backwards, and side-stepping are simply becoming all in a day's work here at the Green Park Hospital. I routinely practice each of these twice a day. I can confidently say that with every step there has been improvement. Sometimes not always outwardly... Vandana will point out any bad steps faster than I can recollect them. However, with each step there is increasing awareness of motion, intention, and faith.

Prior to my departure at tour's end, I will be receiving 2 more procedures. From my knowledge, straight from the mouth of Dr. Ashish himself, I will be enduring another lumbar puncture and a "surprise" that necessitates the "opening of Pandora's Box." Now I am not usually too fond of surprises... but I am intrigued beyond belief, feeling a bit flattered too for some reason.

Days come and go faster than drag-racing rickshaws, as our gang has grown an expertise in passing the day away with no more than a blink of an eyelid. We spend the majority of our time deciding our next gastronomic adventure I would say, sadly and content simultaneously at the same moment. We are, however, becoming more cognizant of the passing time as the days seep into August. Erin leaves in less than a week! This is why we have dedicated the remainder of her stay to those sights and photo-ops of her choice... although it is more of an effort to be obliging due to the vast quantity of opinions and hungry stomachs and aching feet and overheated foreheads amongst us. Hopefully we will be able to check all of her wishes off the list before we bid adieu. Simply put, we've got a lot of work to do! Stay on task!

And if you are wondering... I take Physio with me EVERYWHERE: Stretching toes at a coffee shop over a nice vegan shake, reverse butt lunges in bed just before we shut out the lights, thinking of pushing my leg into the rusty bottom of our rickshaw as I transfer in, racing Michael in anything and everything that enters my mind, flexing quads and hammies just like a real-live muscle man, and every motion and sensation in between. 

I can only trust that this will be the way to those lil' stem cells' hearts... cookies and ice cream are simply just not cutting it.

The Indescribables

It's so hard to try to describe the indescribable. Those feelings that have never been given a name because so few of the world's population have actually encountered them. Most of these feelings have been emotional, as well as you might imagine... but some, however, are not. Here is an attempted list of feelings as noted by my legs (transcribed by me):
--Tingling that is localized to one area that doesn't go away when stretched or manipulated
--Radiating tingling like a wave of energy transmitting upwards or downwards
--Deep pressure sort of reminiscent of having to pee, but not necessary in the placement of one's bladder
--Heaviness that extends the length of entire extremities
--Pretend warmth that makes me second guess wearing pants or turning the fan on low (which is the newest of the bunch)

Having all of these new feelings that I have never been exposed to before, as well as being tongue-tied for a proper description can leave me feeling fairly hopeless that they will ever be put to great use... but I will rest easy knowing that these feelings exist, that they are out there, whether they be easy to share or not. Just because I cannot put verbal recognition on them doesn't mean that they are any less worthy of praise. In fact, they may be more.

I am proud to feel all of those indescribables. It is like I hold a portion of the universe's secret inside of me, never fully willing to surface. Shhhh! Some things are just better left unsaid, or so says someone famous. I bet that guy never really had those feelings or else he wouldn't have come up with some catchy quote to describe it all.

For lack of words, just trust me.

Simply Preparing For Another Day

"You are defying the odds!" Says Dr. Ashish the morning after my lumbar procedure. "Because of this, you may be punished though..."

Punished meaning that because it went so smoothly, being the most invasive and impacting procedure of them all, that I will probably have to do it all again-- and soon at that.

The whole process began with me having to fast in the morning and afternoon, intaking nothing except for liquids: soy milk, cranberry tea sent from London (thanks Katie!), and some masala garam chai from the hospital. The reasoning behind the fast was not because it was a true surgery where they had to make sure that there was no digestion occurring, it was simply to reduce the likelihood of the dreaded vomit.

After being escorted to Gautam Nagar Hospital in high-style, courtesy of Dr. Shroff's own SUV, we all arrived and settled in our new room, room 202. Promptly we partook in our fav Knock-Rummy game and then soon enough it was time for me to change into my gown, become grossly intimate with the dreaded IV, and jump on the gurney to head downstairs to the Operation Theatre.

I was pretty excited to get down there only for the fact that the prior day I had told Dr. Ashish that I had a surprise waiting for him, which I did indeed. In the nature of all-things-Ryan, I had asked Kanako to put letter tattoos on my back to acknowledge Dr. Ashish and greet him just before shoving a needle in my spine. He loved it! In fact I could tell a few snapshots were taken of my tattooed back before being scrubbed up with iodine. Later Dr. Ashish told me that he emailed the photos out to a bunch of people. Apparently that was a first...who knew?!

The procedure was quick and not like the rest. Generally during a procedure Dr. Ashish will ask me several times over the course of only a few minutes about what changes I am feeling. My typical response is heaviness, pressure, and tingling... usually in that order. Immediately I sort of thought that my nervous system was on strike because I wasn't feeling any of these typical sensations as the needle went in. I told him that it felt very different, almost like all my muscles were contracting. I admitted to him that I felt none of the usual heaviness nor the pressure. I was sort of ashamed saying this until I was hit with a, "Good! It should feel different. Not very many people notice that." Phew. So I guess I can continue to trust those little misfiring neurons after all.

After the injection, Dr. Ashish and his crew rotated the bed up and down and left and right and up-right and up-left and down-right and down-left. I felt like I should pay him for the amusement ride I had just been on, but he left too soon, as did I to be whisked back up to room 202. There I was met by my friends, my friends who will all be great mothers, I just am glad that it won't be for me. Even before I was lifted back onto my bed we had Sarah readjusting my legs to guarantee and good stretch, Kanako stabilizing my head and neck because we were told not to move it, and Erin supervising the hospital crew making sure that IV wasn't pulled and that everything fell back into place. I looked up towards the ceiling, though the ceiling wasn't even in view... my dear friends were hovering over me, awaiting some sort of response.

I think I told them aggravatingly that I was glad that they weren't really my mothers. But on some level, each of them plays a piece of that role too, perhaps why I love them all so much.

5 hours with my body completely flat, inverted, and straight; followed by the rest of the evening rotating side to side, but still inverted and flat. No bending, no games, no eye wandering, no fun.

Surviving the first 5 hours is the major challenge and I feel that I completed that with great success. Over the past decade or so I have practiced many moments of patience and tolerance, being in and out of hospitals spending weeks at a time on flat bed rest. I try to use these qualities, as well as other qualities that I have built upon over the years in circumstances that may call for something a little more substantial or mind-bending or critical. I suppose that every experience that you have in life simply just prepares you for another. What do I supposes this current experience is prepping me for? Who knows.

Nighttime came and went with only a slight glitch in the system. Somehow I ripped out the IV in my hand during my slumber. I swear I was asleep and didn't do it cognitively, but I am not really sure that anyone believes that one.

I awoke with only a slight headache, akin to a spell of dehydration or a bout of insomnia. This headache lasted the entirety of the day, but it was tolerable and didn't stop me from returning to the GN Hospital later in the evening to bring Michael and his girlfriend dinner, nor did it stop me from rolling through some sort of species feces in the dark of the night. My money is on that of human origin... gross.

But all is well here in Green Park now. The pigeons are squawking. The patients are moaning. The digestive cookies are flowing. The horns are honking. Home Sweet Home.

A Recipe For Disaster

I love to travel. I would endlessly search the world for nothing in particular if somebody's Uncle Sam would allow it. From everywhere that I have journeyed, gives me an appreciation for the quality of awareness about handicapped access. (Kanako refers to it as being "Ryan-able".) I have come to find that Delhi, in all it's glory, neglects that quality just as well as the next guy.

Loads of stairs. Break-your-back-again, bumpy coblestone. Narrow doorways that send me away without even a preview. Unpaved roadways, or better yet-- unmaintained roadways. Ruthless automobiles. Ruthless animals. Ruthless people.

All of these things though do, however, make for an adventure like no other. Certified and guaranteed. I have always had an adventurous spirit, and if I had it my way I would be climbing mountains, walking on tightropes, and ultimately defying gravity at any chance I could get. But, such is life to yearn to do the things that your very being will not allow.

Instead, what is there to do but make an adventure of your own. Here's the recipe:

- 1 cup of Uninhibited Thought
- 3 T of Ignorance
- 1 t of Clumsiness
- A dash of A Fatalist's Perspective
Combine the above ingredients together until a frothy mixture has taken away rational awareness of the surroundings.
Don't forget to double the recipe to share with friends!

We have been dying to see "The Dark Knight" for weeks now but it has always been sold out. One thing that you should know about Indians, is that they looooove their cinema. The way that it works is that when you purchase your ticket you are automatically assigned to a seat. Yesterday we all decided that once and for all we were going to make this happen-- I actually think that it became more of a concept to conquer, rather than actually dying to see this flick. Purchasing tickets only one day in advance left us little seat options, so we (6 of us) were designated to the second row. Perfect, right? At the movies back home the stairs usually go up, so we'd be okay... but this is India!

The movie theater is located in our favorite mall so it appeared to be a piece of cake, except for the fact that none of us had ever actually seen the movie theater. It's a good thing that we got there early. Once appropriately following the arrows directing us the the theater entrance I (and I assume Michael) immediately noticed the 7 stairs upward that lead to the ticket taker who was positioned strategically in front of a sign that boasted about the handicapped accommodations. It even had my favorite blue and white stiff wheelchair man to tell me that it was going to be okay. And okay it was. By now, practically all of India are pros at getting me up and down stairs. No problem, until we approach the actual auditorium and the 20-something stairs to get in there too. Just another adventure for Ryan when I won't take the liberty of finding out the stinkin' stair situation beforehand myself.

Aside from that I do feel quite successful in my independence here. Yesterday Michael and I went out to the market, just the two of us (in each other's chairs on top of that). I could tell that Sarah was trying to be a thinker by verbally contemplating as I rolled out the door, "Are you going to be able to do the stairs?"

"I'll be fine."

The market covers about 4 blocks along a fairly busy road. To navigate the sidewalk you must be fully equipped to go up and down stairs as well as push up 80-degree angled ramps that appear to have aged poorly, and no where near in the sense of a good wine or cheese would. With the help of one another, a few circus tricks, and several innocent bystanders we made it to one of my favorite eateries, The Evergreen Sweet Shop. I kindly gestured to the doorman with the bushy and curly cigar version of a mustache and within seconds we were carried in like merchandise and directed to a table. Phew.

I am not sure that the sticky sweet lime soda was worth the trip, but the act of the trip most certainly was. I need to remind myself to be alive and uncomfortable, vulnerable even, at times. This is the only true way of digging down into your character, like eyelash kissing your soul. So many people fear the jarring of un-welcomed emotions that they steer clear of them and always take the high road, the paved road.

I suppose that even optional accessibility can sometimes be optimal assess-ability at times.

Forwards & Backwards

For some reason my right leg does much better with the forward motion, and my left excels at the backwards gait. The objective of this walk is to push my feet straight through the floor without lifting or hiking. Baby steps are welcomed over giant's pounds. My posture is still the largest issue, so right now there is absolutely no way I can stand up any straighter on my own... but it is getting better every day. The whole feat is getting better every day.

Manic Monday

Monday I will be having yet another procedure at Gautam Nagar. This procedure is the lumbar puncture, where from the sounds of it, I will be having stem cells injected directly into my spinal cord at a very large quantity over the course of one day.

I've been given a lot of advice from the other patients who have already previously received this procedure. For the most part I am told NOT to move my head or neck at all for the entire time... no matter what I do. This portion of the procedure is going to be quite challenging for me considering I can barely sit in the same position in my chair for a forever-feeling 5 minutes, let alone lie (inverted again) completely flat with no adjustments whatsoever from my cervical region. The problem is that, as the cells are injected into my spine, they will travel around, presumably throughout the cerebral spinal fluid looking for a new home. If there is a change in pressure, say from me rotating my head around, that can result in a fairly damaging headache with a side order of nausea-- or so I have been told.

I am not really nervous about the procedure nor the side effects. I am, however, looking forward to another chance at bombarding my innards with potent cells that are capable of transforming life.