At 10 PM I walk into Corona ward at Rajiv Gandhi Government General Hospital to take care of one of my loved ones who is battling the virus hard! #MrHusband and I take turns to do day and night shifts respectively.
What it is to be a front line care taker... read on only if you have a strong heart.
As I walk in to my dad-in-law’s ward, I saw two ladies crying over phone. I stopped by to enquire. I asked, “is somebody serious?” They continued to cry... I assumed someone is critical in their family and moved towards my ward.
After taking charge from my husband, I gave Naana (that’s how I call him) a towel bath, helped him clean his tongue and watched him gradually go into sleep.
An hour later, I went out to get some fresh air and also pass on some update about Naana’s health to the family. Corona ward here is in a no signal area. So every time, we need to make a call or use our mobile, we need to step out.
As I was keying in the updates in WhatsApp, I saw someone being carried in a stretcher with head to toe covered in a plastic bag - face alone visible in the transparent cover.
Same two ladies whom I saw in the corridor couple of hours back were running behind the stretcher crying, “Dad, you left us behind!” My eyes swelled with tears...
I returned to check on Naana. Right opposite to me, there was this person who was sitting on the floor and intently watching his mother’s monitor equipment on oxygen level and Pulse rate like a studious student watching the black board. Sitting from my place, I could see his mother’s Pulse rate and oxygen levels were low. Within few minutes, the nurses came and changed something with the oxygen setting. The numbers started moving upwards though not out of danger yet. As far as I remember, he didn’t move his eye balls away from the machine the whole night.
The previous night, in the same bed, there was an old father who left his body, surrendering to the virus. The two daughters fought the whole night along with the nurses and doctors there.
Even after there was no pulse rate, the team did everything possible to revive the heart beat. They did bring the pulse back but couldn’t sustain it.
When this old man was battling hard for his life, another stretcher from ICU moved out of our ward, carrying another dead person covered from head to toe in a white cloth, possibly a female victim of the virus... Few relatives were allowed to see her last moments... I could hear the wails of Corona victims!
Sitting there and watching all these have made me numb. Fear of contracting the virus is one thing, resolve to bring a suffering life to normalcy is another... I swing between these two states trying to get some sleep in between.
My dad-in-law’s road to recovery is long...
Today morning all of a sudden he asked me to sing “Kurai Ondrum Illai” song to soothe his desperate soul. Almost 17 years back, I entered this family’s hearts with this song only. My naana was generous enough to recognise a singer in me when I rendered this song in my own style with “abha” Swarangal... :-) So among the commotion there, among all the monitoring machines cacophony, with my mask, face shield on, I sang this song only for him.
When I sang this portion, his hands went up holding namaskar to the almighty, seeking Her blessings to alleviate his suffering.
“யாதும் மறுக்காத மலையப்பா
உன் மார்பில் ஏதும் தர நிற்கும்
கருணை கடலன்னை
என்றும் இருந்திட
ஏது குறை எனக்கு
ஒன்றும் குறை இல்லை
மறைமூர்த்தி கண்ணா”
Over the last two decades, I have sat through many ordeal sessions taking care of many of my family members hospitalised, including my infant daughter.
Almost in all cases, they made me run from one place to another with a prescription... to get the medicines, syringes, other instruments, etc. I helplessly wondered if they were giving the right medication, right dosage, were they fleecing us with unnecessary charges, tests etc? But here in this hospital, I feel completely safe and confident that the best care is provided. I am immensely grateful to the Government for providing this kind of care for this deadly disease.
Am sitting and typing all this, next to my Naana along with 10 more critical care patients... Each bed has its own tale of hope and concern jus like mine.