Living by the week

How do I explain to the seven-year-old inside me that we finally caught the lightning, but our hands weren’t meant to hold it? We spent a lifetime reaching, only to learn that some stars are more beautiful for their distance than their touch.

I had a God complex , a belief that I could make lives around me better .

A part of it stemmed from the fact that my mother suffered her first heart attack when I was 7 and I took it in my stride so well that I practically grew up overnight . Did I ever need anything after that ? Nope, never. So all I did was make people happy and make their lives easier , including that of my mother .

The other half of my God complex took a few years to manifest fully .When about 20 years later I found myself standing in an ICU , as this young brilliant intensivist who could save lives . I was loved , I was adored . I was the emergency call that the doctors on duty made , my opinion mattered . My presence, an asset. 

I had arrived . And the thrill of it all made my heart pump everyday .

I was extremely proud of myself until the day that I bid goodbye to my own father in my own ICU .

Something inside me broke.But the crack was not large enough to break me down . I was the problem solver, remember? The giver. How could I stop to grieve , where was the time .

So zero tears and exactly 12 hours later I was back to the ICU .

But here’s the thing : Life has its ways of humbling you. I was a great doctor, a hands on mother and a decent wife as I would like to believe.

It was one fine morning of January 2025 that my resident noticed I was walking ‘funny’.

Few hours later my left ankle couldn’t move. 

I was diagnosed with GBSyndrome – an illness where your immune system attacks your nerves. 

But what big deal was that . My life had been all about challenges, so how could I let my guard down now .So , not surprisingly enough I didn’t need any help . I did everything on my own . Discharged from the hospital 7 days later, to continue physiotherapy at home .

I couldn’t walk properly but I was back to work exactly on the 10th day . Please don’t forget the God complex ,its still very much there .

I got better and then I got worse .

Many months , many MRIs , many blood tests and nerve conduction studies later , I was found to have autoimmune neuropathy .

But how could I just accept it ? So, an opinion from Mayo, a quick visit to a neurologist in Singapore and loads and loads of research later – I accepted it.

That I had to slow down. It wasn’t an option, it was the only choice. Slow down to give up procedures, slow down to never again manage an ICU, slow down to see your works worth being reduced to post ICU care and out-patient department.

The God complex came crashing down. I did everything on my own since I was 7, but now I couldn’t unplug a phone charger using my left hand.

I have balance issues, at 8am or 4pm I’m exhausted, and I’m on immunosuppression which means I’m masked up all the time.

Some of the patients ask my name everytime I meet them since they can’t recognise me . Sometimes I wonder if they actually can’t .This may not be an issue for a lot of people.

However, this matters to me because everyone in ICU 5 knew my name. The patient , their family , their uncle living in the Bahamas – everyone . 

And now everyday, I am asked my name . So thats a kind of a bummer . I am not a fan of ‘has -beens’.

Every week now , I take infusions of some medicines that are supposed to keep my nervous system under check . Which is fine . I’m not ungrateful .

What pinches me the most is my dependence on others. My therapist says it’s a good thing to ask for help.But how to decondition a mind that has believed for a good 30 years that it can do everything on its own .

Well this, is just one of the things that makes me angry. I have set out on this journey to write something everytimeI get an infusion ( which is every week by the way) .

I don’t know what the next week holds , I don’t know how I would feel next Friday .

May be, I’ll write about rainbows and unicorns or may be about my 9 year year old . There’s a good chance I might write about my desire to see the world .

But for today ,laying in bed in the same ICU where I worked , I realised one thing – transition is painful , but you have some anticipation that keeps it interesting . Once you have transitioned into your new normal, you are clueless what to do with it . I for sure am .

Will I ever be able to make my life interesting again ?

Lets figure out together I guess – Friday after Friday .

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