A few days later after consuming various antibiotics, consulting doctors, living on an oxygen mask, and a little Blackberry time, I was given permission to go home as my fever had broken, with my body temperature coming back to normal. Doctors advised complete bed rest for four weeks and only then to resume work, gradually. Happy with the advice, I was relieved to be back home with my children who I had not seen for a while.
My parents, who were scheduled to be in London for a holiday that summer, came in earlier. One really should count one’s blessings at such moments! Two days of rest, some good food, some bad medicines, I started to feel life seeping back into me. And then on one of those evenings, I started to feel unwell again with high temperature creeping into my body. Inspite of my limited medical knowledge, I knew that a fever while a patient is on antibiotics is not good news. So the next day I decided to visit my doctor and he put me through an X-ray.
What was about to happen next is not something I had ever imagined or could fathom. My doctor looked at my X-Ray report with an extremely distressed look on his face. He straightened in his chair and then gradually bent forward towards me and said, ‘Mrs. Kumar, we need you back in the hospital now!’ I heard him but I really did not feel that unwell! Hence I insisted to the doctor that I would like to join my children for dinner and maybe get admitted to the hospital the next morning! After all, I had not spent enough time with the children in the last week. The doctor looked at me again and said, ‘Mrs. Kumar, I am sorry but we cannot permit that. You need to be in the hospital now.’ The urgency in the tone of his voice made it apparent that something was not quite right and he was not taking a ‘no’ for an answer. I sat back. My husband and mother requested me to sit in the reception as they got the lowdown. As per the doctor’s analysis, my body had become extremely weak given I had not been eating well for months, working silly hours, and clearly, some wine once in a while did not help. The bottom line was that I lived a bad lifestyle. Hence the first bout of malicious pneumonia had weakened the body significantly. Unfortunately, the bacteria had been very virulent. It had somehow developed immunity to my medicines and struck again with more vengeance. I was now struck by a second attack of pneumonia while still recovering from the first one! This could be fatal. My pleural membrane was severely impacted and there was fluid gushing into my lungs, which in a few hours would reduce my ability to breathe significantly! Doctors had to treat me urgently and move me to strongest fifth-generation antibiotics to save my lungs before it was too late. Those medicines were likely to have other impacts on my body which had to be gauged quickly before it was too late. They also had to suck the fluids out of my lungs if I got strong enough to endure that procedure.
He finally gave me an ultimatum – I had forty eight to seventy two hours to live. If the medicines worked, it would be a miracle. The final verdict was to be given only if they could get the infection under control that night!
As my mother broke the news to me, I was petrified. It felt surreal. This couldn’t be happening to me! I was the strong woman – wife, mother, daughter and a successful professional. I almost had it all. Destiny has a cruel way of getting you to your knees and telling you how you may not always have it all unless you respect what God has given you.
As we all quietly drove home, it was very tough for me. I was numb. This diagnosis could not sink into my logical brain. Was this really happening to me? I reached home with a heavy heart, packed my bags, yet unsure if I truly was that sick. My children Avni and Sid, then nine and five years old respectively, hugged me tight and smiled at me, which made me forget all the pain that I was going through. I explained to the children that I needed to be in the hospital for a few days so that I could be back to play with them soon. Meanwhile the news that their grandmother was going to be with them cheered them up a lot. Children are so innocent that it really hurt that I could not explain the reality to them.
That night when I entered the hospital, little did I know that it would not be easy coming back home. It was almost like the disease was waiting for me to reach the hospital to strike me in an even more forceful way! As I lay in the hospital bed during one of the darkest nights of my life, my fever started to shoot up and in a few hours I had hit a hundred and five degrees Fahrenheit. My consciousness was almost leaving my body. I felt I would explode, my body ached so much that I could not feel my limbs. An excruciating pain had engulfed me. I was put on an ice bed with emergency drips of antibiotics, as the medicines were far too strong to take orally. Even a slight cough felt like a painful explosion in my lungs and I lost a piece of myself every time that happened. By early morning my oxygen levels were shooting down. Multiple tubes were inserted in my body and I continued hoping I would be able to breathe. Blood tests indicated a severe bout of infection. The oxygen mask was back with a bigger cylinder!
Over the next few days, thanks to the medication, I continued to breathe in at a slow pace. The infection became stronger and my body, more frail. I saw my life blurring and slipping away gradually. I had three chest specialists attending to me and in the next seventy-two hours even as the medications became stronger, the infection refused to abate. The infections were competing against the doctors and were winning. My appetite had completely disappeared and in a few days I lost ten pounds as my body braved this onslaught. I was not permitted to get out of my room, as my body was so weak that it would contract any infection in the corridors. After a few days, a blood test indicated traces of septicaemia that made my doctors, family and friends panic. A bout of septicaemia (infection in blood) could be completely fatal at this stage. Given that I was kept completely sanitised, this infection could only be contracted from an infected syringe in the hospital. So the hospital and doctor decided to carry out tests of my entire body to check how deep-seated the infection was. I was in a daze when I was carried from one test lab to another for my own survival. However, there was one particular evening during that time that stood out for me.
I was taken for a bone scan and my body was slipped into a steel chamber (very ironically, the size of a coffin, to be exact) and a steel plate was lowered on my face. A sense of claustrophobia overwhelmed me and I almost choked and felt this was the end. My breathing became even more hurried and I started to mumble and choke with tears rolling down my eyes. The physician sensed my panic-stricken state and asked me to close my eyes and visualise the most important things in my life. In his very calming voice, he told me to focus on what I would do when I get back to my normal self and out of this hospital. I felt so very desperate to do that! I closed my eyes and gradually sunk into my thoughts: two smiling faces flashed before my eyes. My children, Avni and Sid, were looking at me with joy and pure happiness with hope beaming in their eyes. The sun was shining upon their beautiful faces and the playful rays danced about in their hair as the gentle wind caressed their foreheads. Mother Nature was looking after them as their own mother was not around! Their innocent smiles made me want to get up and kiss their faces. They were holding hands and giggling and running on the fresh green grass that was just mowed in the park near our place. Both looked at me and asked, ‘Mamma where have you been? We’ve been missing you!’ They were calling me towards them. Suddenly, I saw Sid stumble and fall on a stone and my heart missed a beat. I almost got up to hold him but I could not as I realised I was trapped in the coffin-like chamber – reality sank in and I just could not hold back my tears after that and started to sob with my eyes tightly closed lest I let those smiling faces disappear! An overwhelming guilt came over me. There was so much I had yet to do in life. Had I been too selfish just fulfilling my ambitions? I wanted to walk on the freshly-mowed grass with my children, helping them walk through the obstacles of life. I wanted to spend time cooking their favourite dishes. I wanted to hug them!
I felt incomplete as I felt that I had not delivered on motherhood and somewhere that pull was becoming stronger. I had to teach my children about life and I had hardly done enough of that till now. It became clearer what
I needed to do better once I got out of the hospital. I survived that test and the result for septicaemia were negative, much to the relief of all of the medical staff and us. However, the fluids in the lungs increased; so the doctor decided to carry out a procedure one afternoon to salvage me. By then, I was losing my mind in the hospital room. I was told my children were coming to see me in the evening, which kept me in a happy mood during the day. Sometime in the afternoon a big machine was wheeled into my room with two doctors. My mother was with me (who was aware of the procedure) and helped them settle in the room. I was told it was a procedure to review fluids in my lungs, which would be quick. A dose of local anaesthesia was injected – into my bare upper back, making it numb. In a few minutes I found this big machine behind my back and before I could realise, a thick needle was being lowered into my lungs through my back. In spite of the strong anaesthesia I could almost feel that needle going through my rib cage into my lungs, and I screamed with this excruciating pain, with tears rolling down. The doctors were simply doing their job with the machine, pulling out the fluid from my lungs. They wanted to increase the lung capacity and also take samples to test the fluid to gauge the impact of the antibiotic treating the pleural infection. No amount of intellectual justification works when you are in grave pain. All I did then was to plead and beg them to take it off. The procedure took about ten to twelve minutes but they were probably the most excruciating ones in the days that I had been in the hospital so far. I had cried so much that there were no more tears left in my eyes. A sense of apathy and resignation came over. My mother helped me lie down on the bed and I was shivering for a long while, shaken by the experience even though the machine was long gone!
In a few hours my children arrived to meet me. Blissfully unaware about what was really happening with their mom, all they talked to me excitedly about was a friend’s upcoming birthday party. My daughter wanted to check as to what she should wear; whereas my son was wondering what gift he’d buy for the friend. My son thought I had such a cool life with unlimited TV and unlimited food of any kind that I could ask for whenever I wanted. I smiled and talked to them drearily trying to keep up their excitement. They were gone in an hour but had left me more alive than ever!
Over the next few days I lost more weight and daily blood tests did not indicate any slowdown in the infection. Frustration started to build in the family and me as to why my infection or fever was not breaking. My blood counts went down severely and I found it difficult to walk. Days became weeks, weeks became months and three months passed by!
To keep my sanity I requested the doctors to change my room every week. From leading a hectic 24×7 lifestyle at work and home, I felt grounded and jailed with this illness, which was now beginning to take a toll on my mental well-being. I did not want to lose hope but doubts were beginning to creep in as to when, if ever I would get out. Should I go to another country or hospital for treatment? Should I go beyond the specialists that were attending to me? Nothing can be more frustrating when your mind is fully functional but your body is not co-operating. My heart would break every day when I would see my father buzz with anticipation on test results hoping that they would be better and then see a gush of disappointment when the results came negative. My parents had probably prayed to all their Gods, had sent in sermons from all the gurus they knew, offered votives. Small pleasures of life had suddenly become so important that all I wanted was my normal life back and I did not know how to!
Despair and desolation led me to consult another doctor who we had known through earlier interactions. He suggested going through another diagnostic procedure of bronchoscopy. These entailed tubes with cameras being inserted in my lungs though my nose (while I was awake!) through which my lungs would be washed, fluids extracted and internal pictures taken for analysis to review the treatment. However, whether it was washing of the lungs, earlier medicines or prayers, my fever, miraculously, broke the next day!
Reports started to show improvement with the fever receding and I started to recover over the next few weeks with medicines continuing. Miraculously, I was much better in three weeks and back on my feet. I was in disbelief! It was a miracle…life was giving me a second chance…
When I consulted my doctor on what had happened and how I recovered, I recall him telling me, ‘Mrs. Kumar, it does not matter anymore how you got better, what matters is that you are better and healthier, and keep it that way! Look after yourself and lead a holistic life. Your body tells you how much stress it can take. Listen to it!’ Since then I always have.
This was the most defining experience of my life till date and I am truly very grateful that I came back from the clutches of death. My family had a key role to play in this. I came back and did go to the park with my children, cooked their favourite dishes and played with their toys. I let my husband watch his TV channels in the bedroom, which earlier, was a complete no-no! In a hard way, I learnt the importance of balancing my life with my loved ones and what I loved to do at work. I understood the importance of time spent well and picked up my life all over again. Given the agony my parents had recently gone through due to my illness, I spent some quality time with them over a vacation. There are no words to describe how they would have felt seeing their child slip away. It was a rude awakening about how important it is to take care of oneself. In life, what does not kill you makes you stronger and I think that’s what happened to me after this traumatic experience. I became more respectful of personal time, a healthier lifestyle but even more determined to realise my passions at work too! Life teaches you a few lessons in a harsh way if you don’t listen to the subtle messages. You need to be brave and keep your chin up.
In my first week of the illness, when I understood that I was in the hospital for a long haul, I called up my office and business heads to apprise them of my state. Everybody at work was obviously very shocked and was extremely supportive. They offered me all the assistance that I may have needed. Given I was unsure of ever coming back to work then, I had to tell the Business Head of Banking to go ahead and hire someone else to ensure continuity of work for him. He knew I was really passionate about what I did at work and we had a wonderful professional relationship. After hearing me, he said, ‘Anu, we will not hire anyone in this role. You will be fine and you will come back. We will wait however long this may take. You will be back on your feet and see us through the year-end reviews!’ Moments like these give you tremendous strength. These moments are beyond work. I knew that it was a really tough period for the business amidst the financial crisis and without this role being filled in, they would struggle as I am sure they did. But they waited and I went back to work finally, and ran the year-end process. Their confidence in me was stronger than mine. My work was important to me. So I had to get back and now I was even emotionally-bound to the banking teams.
PASSION FUELS PERSEVERANCE
When you like something and you are fully committed to it, then you are able to overcome any hardships that stand in your way. Your passion for life, family and work makes your resolve to win even stronger. During my illness and even after that, there were many friends, relatives, and my parents who advised me to take a break or take it easy, given that I had returned from a harsh illness. But would you ever stop living for the fear of dying? My illness taught me to look after myself by eating properly, exercising and having a lot of me time, but it also taught me life is short and I needed to speed up and persist on my leadership journey. Most importantly, it taught me to spend time wisely with family. There is a time for everything in life!
WORK ON YOURSELF HOLISTICALLY
My mother once told me that I can have it all for some time and some of it all the time but couldn’t have all of it, all the time! As I recovered from my illness, I resolved to challenge this notion and continue to aspire to have it all, so long as I knew what ‘all’ meant to me and I had planned a path to get there! We all play multiple roles of a mother, wife, daughter, employee, manager and so on. This is not diffe
rent from what our male counterparts do. However, what sets us apart are the varied expectations and the social norms that guide women. A woman is expected to be the care-giver and many times that role supersedes most other things she would like to do. As I grew up, I had various men and women who were role models around me at school, college, home and at work. Each one had different drivers that made them happy. But more men looked after themselves physically and psychologically, which helped them juggle multiple balls at the same time and get the best of different worlds. The nurturing streak of most women somehow makes them neglect their own well-being, which is critical to happiness.
When I was unwell I craved to get back on my two feet. It was hugely frustrating to want something physically and emotionally and your body not being able to deliver it. The feeling of helplessness was immense. Though I knew intellectually that health is wealth, it had never really sunk in until this phase of critical illness. Through this experience, I learnt the importance of monitoring my health with regular check-ups, exercise and healthy food. A lot of this is clichéd, but in my experience I know a lot of women who put themselves on the back burner on this aspect.
Can I Have It All Page 10
