I lost a very dear friend to cancer a couple of weeks ago . Even though I knew the last time I saw her would be the very last time too , I have still not been able to process this loss ...
What I wrote a few years ago comes to my mind ...
Grief
is selfish .
And
grieving for a loved one is a self serving process .
It
is all about what the loss means to you and how your life changes and all that
you will miss now that the person who meant so much to you is no longer there .
The
process of grieving is left to you to work out in all its complexities .
I
don't think one can ever get over the shock of losing a loved one . It's like a
gash on your arm that may heal (?) over a period of time with new tissues
manufactured with one's own set of coping mechanisms but the damage is done .
Your once flawless , smooth skin bears the unmistakable and indelible mark of
the trauma . It's ugly, painful and a constant reminder of the loss and
of what once was .
In
my line of work I lose people that I have grown to love and care for .
More than is good for me or for them ; or so the text books say. But what
do those these text books know . I have revelled and blossomed in the love my
patients have given me so unconditionally and I know for a fact so have they.
We live in a very special world that allows this unconditional love . For I am
no one to them . Not a lover , not a parent nor child ; not a sibling not
aunt or uncle or anything that can be defined . I am to each one of them only
what they want me to be to them . But to me they are my life , my work and my
whole world . They may know it or they may not. It makes no difference
for the love I have for them serves me in a way that helps me help them . When
they want it . And how they want it.
It
is a love that has allowed me to give and in giving there is so much joy
and such rewards .
I
call it Qualified Love . And that charmed circle is peopled with little
toddlers I held in my arms who are happy teenagers today ; teenagers whom
I have seen growing up into awesome young adults ; young adults becoming
householders and making a life with their loved ones , proud parents become
happy grandparents and then I have held the hands of many as they move on to
find meaning in their "senior years " so to say.
And
because I am no one to them in their established hierarchy of family and
friends I become , like many of my ilk ( counselors, therapists, treating
physician too) an anonymous safekeeper of many secrets , longings ,
confessions, fears and more. And I ? I am like a sponge , that very
anonymity allowing me to absorb and retain without losing my own dimensions
.
And
then comes Death to take them away for ever . Life interrupted . For
ever.
And
I am left the sole custodian of shared dreams and hopes and conversations
.
I am
asked , by many , how do I cope with the loss of my patients ? When they die ?
How do I indeed ? I honestly don't know . Each death , each loss hits me
anew.
Last
week I woke up in DC just as India had already slipped into its late evening
and found a message in WhatsApp from one of my young patients. It began as most
messages do : Amma , ( to my dying day I will never be able to comprehend the
kind of love and affection my patients have for me which makes them call me
Amma ) And then as I read the message I felt this cold hand close itself
around my heart.
The
message said , Amma , Bhaiyya nahi rahey ab.
Mother
, brother is no more.
Just
over a couple of weeks ago this young man and I had chatted over that very
WhatsApp when he had come to office and missed me and we had promised to meet
up once I was back. I simply could not accept that I was not going to be able
to do that. Not ever again . It dawned on me then how far away i was from him
and everything that connected me to him. Waking up in another country and in
another time zone whereas back home the day was almost done and the reality of
the loss final and unchangeable . Even though i was yet to live that day that
had already in another place in time , taken him away.
This
is not the first time that i have not been around when someone in my care has
died. I realise that this huge chasm between myself and a dearly loved patient
is not just caused by my physical absence separated as we are by the oceans.
That chasm exists even if I am right there in the midst of the grieving
family . For, who was I to him or to the members of the family ? Not family and
not a friend in the real sense of the word . Take away the reason for my
existence in that dear life and I ceased to exist .
This
harsh truth always prevents me from processing the loss , and therefore the
process of grieving is a complicated one. And closure ? Well nigh
impossible !
Just
as the bereaved parent or child or partner would balk at the painful process of
taking down and putting away all visible signs of the loved one I too cannot
bring myself to erase them from my mind .
The
phone numbers remain in my phone contacts . The photographs on my wall lull me
into a false sense of continuity of the relationship and I keep going to
their pages on Face Book ...as long as these signs exist I exist .
For
all that I gave them , what I got in return was immeasurable . A validation of
my worth to them ; of my love for them . Without them I cease.
What
do I do with all that I know and to whom do I share those shared confidences
that might help in the grieving process .
Respecting
Patient Confidentiality is of paramount importance and is sacrosanct in
our line of work . In many cases , not all family members or friends are even
aware of the situation . Time and time again I have caught myself
reaching out and then drawing back and keeping my overtures in check.
So
in answer to that question raised above , my grief is mine alone and I grieve
alone . I grieve for the loss of what gave meaning to my act of giving .
DC
Sunday morning 5th July : I have just edited the above and given it a spell
check and shared a few thoughts with this friend I am spending the holiday
weekend with . Mostly about the young man who has died and my anguish at being
so far away and how it anyway makes no difference for the reasons given above
.
We
are having tea and reading the morning papers . And I come across the following
in the Sunday New York Times ...
It
is as though I am listening to myself
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