Yet Another Obituary!

 Yesterday, the day started out well and the pal of monotony was broken by messages from some old and dear friends. Two of them called too and we had longish voice chats that cheered me up and, hopefully, the other side too.  However as my wife and I were going to call it a day after dinner, the bolt from the blue came.  My cousin called and enquired if I had received the bad news.  When I replied in the negative, he broke the news of the death of a nephew, my elder sister's eldest son, at the hands of the dreaded virus.

It is the kind of news that makes one go numb both in the limbs and the mind. Everything is frozen to a standstill in that moment.  Then, gradually, a door opens in the mind letting in a swarm of memories, like furious bees, and the mind flails around, stung by them, till it drops down in sheer exhaustion.  The cycle repeats itself, mercifully in diminishing intensity and finally it all dies down and sheer stupor prevais.

An analogy arises in the mind.  I am at the head of a queue for check-out and someone far behind me loses his patience at my slowness in proceeding and jumps the queue.  It leaves me with the feeling that I used to get in my younger days when I had a recurrent nightmare which will leave me paralyzed and unable to breathe and just as I got to the verge of desperation, I would wake up perspiring with a jolt and a sharp breath. I despair at the curse of having to watch someone to go, when it should have been the other way round.

There was a long age gap between my elder sister and me.  My nephew, his pet name was Guddu, was born in my parents' home when I was in the tenth standard and about 13 years of age.  I vividly recall my brother-in-law visiting us and beaming with pleasure as he held Guddu.  Guddu had inherited the firmness and some of the strictness of his father and in him I saw an image of my brother-in-law.  Both my elder sister and the brother-in-law had passed away a few years ago.

Guddu was being attended upon in the hospital by his wonderful son, an MBBS, who insisted upon remaining in the hospital clad with an PPE all the time!  And though the exhaustion and utter lack of sleep were getting to him, he sounded happy at his dad's improvement only a couple of days ago.  And then everything fell apart.

Guddu is survived by his son, wife and two daughters.  My heart bleeds as I pray for them to be given the strength to bear this terrible loss.  Dear Guddu, may you find peace and love as you are united with your parents. Hari Om Tatsat.

Terminal Bill

Apart from the small change donations that go into the kitty of godmen, a major source is the lifelong savings of aged devotees.  The devotees are told to lead a spartan life that doesn't dent their lifelong savings.  And then they are persuaded to trade it with the godman for a guaranteed place in the heaven.

But Babadom is not alone in this business of cornering the savings of old and aged.  The medical profession follows close in their footsteps. Of those who do not surrender to a Guru and also those who do, not all are lucky enough to have an uneventful kind of death.  For most it will be preceded by an illness long or short and many will find their way to the dreaded ICU.  There the hapless fellow and his family are purged of their savings, more often than not to be finally told that that is all that the medical science could do.

Medical science has made much progress and it stands to reason to press all their life saving skills into service if a child or a productive young man falls sick.  But does it make sense to prolong an old and dying man's life by a few miserable months or days at huge cost and through insufferable procedures?  Instead of focusing on expensive diagnosis and treatments, will it not be okay just to manage the pain and suffering and help the person die with dignity?  Why should medical science and society place so much store by the 'quantity' of life instead of quality?  And why should we fight with death when it comes knocking and is expected too?

Part of the problem lies with the family and society as well.  The society prods the family to go for as expensive a treatment as they can afford even when the outcome is known with near certainty.  The family seldom has the courage to resort to logic and ward off sadistic pressures from society.

The family can be empowered only by the person concerned himself.  And he must do so while he is still healthy and in full possession of his faculties.  And thus it will be good if a person deals with this aspect clearly in his will and gives unambiguous instructions regarding the kind of treatment to be given or not to be given to him if things go wrong, and the kind of rites to be performed after his demise.

Can we also trust the medical community to rise above commercial consideration and advise people properly and rationally in terminal situations?