This postcard comes from hospital bed, so ignore the typos. It’s been two days i am admitted here with complaints of dizziness, unconsciousness and general lethargy. So here i share my ward with another occupant, one Mrs Dsouza who is here since a week.
I sat down to write my journal, a habit i have acquired as a coping up mechanism against anxiety but then the overflow of thoughts led me to post here. This Mrs Dsouza is a 78 year old lady, getting herself treated all by herself, proficient in english, a very well behaved Anglo Indian whose son is in navy and daughter a nun.
I was very impressed with this lady until today she went on to take a bath and came out in room towel clad. There was Mrs Dsouza tired, with skin that refused to cling on to bones, hair that were sparse and she was visibly uncomfortable in having to do it all alone. BNo one to take care of her, she lied down to rest after every few minutes and then continued her chores. A pang of fear ran across me, fear of time slipping by, fear of age catching up with us one day, fear of being left alone just like Mrs Dsouza
So the young boys and girls reading this postcard, cling on to a person who gets you the whole ice cream shop when you are PMSing, who finds you hot with your bulges hanging down, who in her drunk most stage confesses to loving you with crying and throwing up in between. Never let them go.
I know we all will be at Mrs Dsouza’s state one or the other day but even with wrinkled skin and no hair at scalp, if you find someone to take care of you, not let the sick you out of sight, taking you in his arms and saying “i am lucky to have found you”. Just Stay.
As if now i have turned on the other side of the hospital window and watching the rains knocking on the pane. I want rains to stay a little more, i want you to stay a little more.