A New Leaf | A New Lens

09th December 2019 – We stood together in the room, he and I; his hand around my waist and mine on his shoulders. I was staring at the white ceiling oblivious to the hope he kept giving me. I felt my body had betrayed me. I experienced guilt that was uncalled for. Uncertainty was killing. Thoughts of death did cross my mind. Seven months into married life.

9th December – Night Before the Surgery

12th December 2019 – Two days before I turned thirty four, I was super thrilled and grinning because I could brush my own teeth. 

Amidst the intimidating surrounding with the machines, the sounds, tubes, monitors and the equipment along with the movement of medical personnel, I was in a catatonic state.

Let me be absolutely honest – undergoing a surgery is no fun and trust no one into making you believe that it’s all merry. It is not. As much as optimistic you would like to be, it’s better to be prepared and accept what you have than being plain sanguine. Focus your thoughts rather on building inner resolve and saying that whatever be it, you’ll get through. 

Initially, I viewed it as some punishment meted out on me in response to some immoral behavior which I wasn’t even sure of. I kept asking what did I do to deserve this? The ‘why me’ syndrome must have hit me a dozen times every hour. I sat at it for hours spiraling in the negativity that my brain kept churning. I wailed internally, I cursed, I yelled in my mind, I didn’t find any answer except becoming unimaginably distressing. It was as if my will power was paralyzed. 

By its very nature the ICU environment is a strange place with its noises, paraphernalia, constant activity, and bright lights. I used to lay there sometimes with a zillion thoughts and sometimes staring into oblivion with literally nothing going on in my mind. I had felt every negative emotion there was that could be felt from helplessness to sheer frustration, annoyance to anxiety, disappointment to despair I endured each one of them.

A light orange circular tub with water in it placed atop the moving table was put in front of me. My bed was raised so I could sit up for brushing. A chirpy nurse clad in her pink uniform came with my brush in her hand and applied tooth paste onto it. “Should I?” she asked. “Let me try”, I said. I held the plastic handle and put the bristles in my mouth and began rotating, taking it sideways, up and down making a note of every move. With every slow motion the smile in my head only grew wider. It was Day 2 after a open heart procedure for a valve replacement and I could clean my teeth by myself. I was crazily happy. This was the second operation 16 years later.

Birthday Night at ICU

A new train of thoughts began. A new surge of hope rose in me. I realized that with repressed thinking my healing could never be complete. My thoughts have an impact on my recovery and I can’t be standing in the way of my own well-being. The thorns inside needed to be weeded out. I repeated to myself that I’m not uniquely subjugated by the universe and neither is there any massive force out there with the sole and conscious goal to make my life miserable.

Perspective changed. Lens was altered. I started with looking at ways I received grace from the Universe instead. A rock-solid supporting spouse, caring & loving parents, the highly adept surgeon I could get treated under, a benevolent boss whom I’m indebted for life, the umpteen number of wonderful well-wishers I had and their thoughtful messages, the amazing large hearted cleaner in the ICU who used to come and drop by sharing positive phrases, the hospital that was maintained spick and span, the unknown people who warmly smiled as they walked past me. If these weren’t for blessings I don’t see what else could it be? 

In the ICU, every time the nurse would come to me and ask about either injecting something or removing something I would only meekly ask – “will it hurt?” And then fast forwarding to the last day of my stay at the ward when the attendant came to give some injection, she asked “which hand did I give last so it doesn’t hurt you.” I raised a laugh and responded – “any, it doesn’t matter anymore.” I had truly understood – What doesn’t kill you only makes you stronger.

Today’s pain is tomorrow’s strength.

All I wish for you in 2020 is the fortitude to find optimism in every situation that you’ll face. 

P.S. I’m starting a gratitude jar and want to fill it with the small & big victories. Would you like to be my buddy in this? Comment below or message me. Let’s better our mental health together.