“ time can heal or rot ”

Lying in his bed watching television he finally looked comfortable. 

He was suffering from the chronic pains after his infected legs were amputated. His legs were taken off but he was feeling phantom pain; a kind of suffering when you know it is not there but you feel  it there anyway.

He told me one day that time heals all wounds but not his; you need to be connected to your wound to let time heal it. His wounds were taken away with his legs so he can’t rely on time.

To some, time is a measure of moments to test the resilience of those who survive. They are the ones who age with grace; their wrinkles, limps, falls, walkers, canes, wheelchairs and even their prosthesis are considered a time honored ritual as time heals if there is enough of it.

Others struggle with not having enough of time; they blame time management skills or anything else, but the reality lies within them.

Just remember that it is OK to take your time as time has the power to heal or rot; the choice is there.

" death by overdose "

She did it again. She was brought into the hospital with an overdose of medications. She was resuscitated, revived and brought back to the same life from which she so much wanted to escape.

She was then doing better, and began to work on her emotions and feelings. One day she told me that it was not her drug overdose but her overdose of feelings that was going to kill her.

To some, feelings are a language of intuition; it is something like calling for a higher purpose or doing something apparently impossible to achieve. Those are the ones who are blessed with using their feelings like a guardian angel watching and giving sense to emotions.

Others lead their lives with feelings of this and that without connecting the dots. Their whole lives follow their feelings; it's something as strong as like falling and rising in love or taking away one’s own life. They are the ones whose lives become hostage to languages of emotion and the pay back can be huge.

The secret of a balanced life may be as it is; like to feel it all while knowing the difference between feelings and the drama of life.

“ hearts of heroes, lives of legends”

She was under treatment for her lung and heart diseases but she amazed me from day one of her hospital admission. She was nice, pleasant, and a mother-like character.

As days being counted from today to tomorrow and yesterdays looked better than passing by day, I saw her condition was getting worse. At one point her diseases became a poor prognosis from medical standards. As I lead the discussion about her care she chose to keep herself comfortable without any struggle. She said, I had a very good life; no regrets. Her treatment continued with limitations of no heroic measures. The rest of her stay in hospital remained calm, comfortable and being herself; nice, pleasant and a mother-like character till the end.

To some, heroes never die as it happen in movies and legends born of extraordinary circumstances.

Others wonder about the hearts of heroes and lives of legends. They know this every day secret; truly any mother fits into what is thought so rare.

" proving crystal ball wrong "

She was suffering from a tumor of glands that had metastasized; the tumor had spread its tentacles in the near and far organs, and draining life out of her.

Her condition was deteriorating every day and she was dying by all accounts, even in her looks. There were issues of pain, weight loss, infections, insomnia, anxiety, and fear of another day bringing the same misery. I saw her struggles to prove the crystal ball wrong as she told me upon admission to hospital.

Sometimes predictability is also a curse, she told me one day. I was telling her taking things day by day, one day at a time. I was there that day and the very next day and the days after the next days. I wondered with a heavy heart about the struggle of living day by day without a tomorrow of hope.

Sometimes predictability is a curse, I do remember her words.

To some, the reality is sometimes so real that they turn to a crystal ball to seek answers of their choice.

The myth of finding unforeseen answers blind us from what is seen and readily available- the answers.

Others strive to prove crystal ball wrong with their will; they keep the ball rolling until they see the face of hope coming day after day. They are the ones who know the power of awareness:  this time will pass.

" peace brings puzzles"

War brings wounds, peace brings puzzles.

Kill them all to save them all. 

That was his daily mantra as I saw him pacing in that ward.

I was told that he was a soldier with a heart of a warrior. He lost his mind to a war but war failed to make him lose his heart. He was talking from his heart as I perceived his mantra.

Everyone knew he had seen what most of us even can’t imagine. Someone once said that living after seeing a war is hard; memories of death and dying even can kill those who had survived

One day I found him calmer and sitting up in a chair. I asked him about his mantra. He looked at me, smiled and got up. I heard then what I had heard before; war brings wounds, peace brings puzzles, kill them all to save them all.

To some, an experience of war brings them to a place, where mind just can’t lead and heart lose its language.

Others live on as tales of warriors; when heads rise, hearts sink, souls fly and bodies get counted with a pride.

I know now what I knew then; he was one of those.

" the dark side of truth"

He was suffering from a metastatic cancer, and to our knowledge his lung cancer had even invaded his brain cells. He was dying by all prognostic parameters and his treatment had been tailored to a palliative care.

He was forgetful, and happy. I was happy for his forgetfulness as I knew that he was not dying of a loss of a tomorrow. His ending was without struggles of beginning; no remembrance of how, what, if and but of anything.

One day he told me that he wanted to live forever, and that he might beat his cancer. Then he asked me to tell him the truth whether he was going to make it.

I stood there in silence, hoping that he may forget his question soon, and to my relief he did.

Some words are too weak to carry the burden of a truth. The dark side of the truth is the cross over of words, the notion of telling the truth. The hardest truth is listening the truth about oneself.

I saw that day a circle of compassion; words losing meaning, silence taking over. and the action of inaction doing wonders.

"short at noon, long at eve"

His disease was progressing, and his body was becoming almost bed bound. He was suffering from ALS, a disease known to trap mind in an immobile body; some say that this disease can hold ones soul captive in an earthly medium for eternity.

He was supported via artificial means, and a ventilator was connected to his tracheostomy tube. His eyes were bright so was his peaking soul through his eyes. No words can capture those moments as I write these lines.

He was a man without a shadow, one of my colleagues said. I saw no shadow as he was lying flat in bed, it seems his body was protecting his shadow. Some may say that he was being carried on on his shadow; a weak body supported by its shadow like a cushion while being bed bound.

To some those patients lying in a bed bound state lose a lot including their shadows.

Others make us aware of the facts like shadows are short at noon, long at eve. Surely shadows have a purpose, I used to ponder what until now when another usefulness of shadow was revealed. I saw a bed bound patient resting peacefully on his shadow, surely shadows have purposes.

" who made the first butterfly"

Being a patient who suffered a heart attack and a near death experience, he was on a roll. He was talking about life as nothing had changed. He claimed to be an atheist, which he still was. He was my friend, a well-established clinician, whose job was to evaluate and manage the impact of diseases as it affect the mind  and mind disease affecting physical body. His famous saying was that an insane mind can also make a decision though insanely.

I observed that he did not changed a bit as he was recovering. I know that people have right to believe in as they wish. Human mind has its limitations even to fantasize; our mind so to say usually  need a reference point to shoot a thought.

To some there is a God who made the first butterfly.

Others wonder in mysteries of mind with a GPS whose reference points are man-made with limitations of being human. They simply fail to admit what their heart keep telling them all along. They are the one who attempt to find a human god in this Godly universe.

" can't have a walker"

He suffered from a stroke which left him with an unsteady gait. As his life turned around towards better days, he reported to me that he is getting around, even going out to watch games.

One day on his visit I inquired about his mobility and use of a walker and wheel chair. He smiled and said, I don’t use those, I can walk, it’s just my knee. He was not willing to get help or use a walker or wheelchair. Then he walked slowly using his cane, making me afraid of him falling. I visualized him slowing everyone down when he was going to games

To some getting help or using a wheel chair is a sign of weakness. They see themselves in others eyes as frail and old, dependent and dying. It may be a matter of pride and ego..

Others take help to help themselves, By keeping pace with their surroundings, they keep the circle of life revolving by not obstructing fast-paced people around and after them.

Sometimes it is important not to get caught up in ones strength, as no one is watching our frail selves for its strength anyway. I think acceptance of ourselves, our limitations, frees us to live another day with pride of certainty.

" rare to share"

She was admitted with a non-healing wound on her leg. I saw her lying still in the hospital bed with her eyes closed. She looked peaceful, contrary to her angry looking leg wound.

She informed us that she had a rare condition and she was being cared for by nothing but the best amongst the best of doctors. She showed us her pictures taken with famous people. She understood that she had some sort of celebrity status because of her condition.

To some a rare to share condition gives them a celebrity status. Being part of a registry of rare diseases provides them inner strength to survive against the odds of limited available treatments.

I heard her proud voice as she shared her pictures, but as I listened to her closely she could not hide her sadness of being a medical celebrity, as it does not come with longevity or even pride.

I hoped that someday finding a cure may make her proud of being who she was once upon a time.