From the vortex of grief: On mountains and molehills

 It has been two months since my father's stroke. He is still in the hospital, and his road to recovery has been full of setbacks. He tried eating a mouthful of food daily for a couple of days, but that only worsened his chest congestion and breathing. He had to be put on suction for three days after that, to just go back to where was a week before--tube feeding. Similarly, he was started on physiotherapy. The very first day, he was made to sit on a wheelchair, and his pulse and BP plummeted frighteningly. He had to be kept on oxygen and several other medications for days just for his vitals to come back to where they were before. Anytime we tried to push towards recovery, we immediately encountered a hurdle. All of us, myself included, were feeling the strain and pain of these two months. So much effort, time and money, and it felt like everything was in vain.

My dad, a staunch South Indian, missed his idlis and dosas. After having tasted those spoonfuls of food after more than a month, he felt even worse when he was told he couldn't consume anything orally. He begged me for a quarter square of chocolate the other day. I had to say no, but I felt miserable. I said instead trying to make a realistic commitment: I will give it to you in March, I promise. Let's wait till then? My father said to me A square today is worth a ton in March. I don't know if I will live till then. I could not find any words to comfort him. I felt his disappointment, and I echoed it fully.

On another day, my dad told me that he felt awful interacting with some of the doctors/nursing staff. I asked this doctor when I would be able to walk, and he laughed at me. How could he laugh? I felt like slapping him. I echoed his anger. My father loved movement and physical activity. He hated staying still. All his life, he had walked, run, cycled, played. Even after he retired, he continued walking every single day, including the day before his stroke. Could they not understand how he felt, bed-ridden and unable to make the slightest movement? How could anyone who called themselves a human laugh at the anguish of a paralyzed person voicing out his deepest fears- will I ever be able to move again?

During this period, I realized how all of us inhabit drastically different versions of this world. To most, walking and moving a limb is something they take for granted. But for others, it may be an overwhelming struggle. I searched for the stories of such people, so that I could find in their experiences and words something that could help my Dad. I found many wonderful people, who took their struggles and transformed it into their superpower. It was not easy to do such a thing, of course, but it gave me hope. It taught me to see the world differently.

And just like that, I found the words to offer my Dad. I quoted Shawn Stephenson, and told him Never believe a prediction that doesn't empower you. Even if a doctor tells you you'll never be able to walk, don't believe it. You will be able to walk, and eat, and do everything you used to. But you have to keep trying, making a tiny bit of progress every day. Don't give up on yourself, no matter who else does.

A few days later, my Mom told me that my Dad was able to do one of the physiotherapy exercises better. I felt elated, and I asked to speak to my Dad. I told him how happy I was to hear of his achievement, and how amazing he was for trying everyday, despite all the setbacks. He did not echo my happiness, and said to me You are making a mountain out of a molehill. That was the only exercise I was able to do, and it was because it was cycling. Mentally, it takes me back to childhood, when I used to cycle from Rajajinagar to Sheshadripuram everyday, and I think of that and try to do it. I haven't been able to do anything else. They put a big ball in front of me and asked me to move it. I couldn't get it to move, not even an inch. Not even slightly. I feel awful.

I asked him Why do you think what you did is a molehill? Molehills and mountains are not quantified by result, but by effort. It took you everything you had and then some to do that one exercise, and you still did it. That is definitely an achievement in my book, and it should be in yours too. Don't be daunted by all the ones you weren't able to do. I don't know if I managed to convince him, but he didn't protest.

Afterwards, the words I had said to him came back to me. I was struggling with finding motivation to do the most basic things in my life, and my productivity was at an all time low. I felt miserable at how little progress I was making and was really hard on myself. Like my father, at the end of every day, I only saw all that I hadn't managed to do. But maybe I could be kinder to myself, and focus on all that I had been able to do. I smiled, How easy it was to preach, and how difficult it was to practice. But I would try.