Resilience Amidst Adversity: A Tale of Courage and Healing
Amidst her battle with the formidable disease and a severely infected hand, AFP exhibited remarkable resilience during her treatment journey, even after losing her hand, as per a statement from the hospital.
Complex Procedure and Recovery
Dr. Bhat and his adept team embarked on the Bone Marrow Transplant (BMT) procedure following weeks of diligent efforts to stabilize her condition and the necessitated amputation of her left hand. Dealing with an intricate case of severe bone marrow failure combined with a severely infected hand, the decision to proceed with transplantation amidst this delicate situation was rife with risks.
Weeks of collaborative endeavors by a multidisciplinary team were dedicated to restoring her unfortunate amputation before the BMT could be performed. Fortunately, her post-transplant recovery is progressing well, leading to her discharge from the hospital.
A Father's Day Reflection
Father's Day has come and gone, and I am relieved. The day was uneventful, void of humor, and soaked by incessant rain. No dramas unfolded. Sometimes, fathers, like children, yearn for the storm to pass without upheaval.
I belong to a generation where fathers weren't considered superheroes by their offspring. My son never choked up and proclaimed, 'Dad, you're my hero, just like Superman.' Perhaps he once said, 'Dad, you're my favorite dinosaur,' during a phase when dinosaurs captivated him, but I can't recall.
Cherishing Memories
We're the subjects of jests, and Father's Day triggers recollections of times when fathers took wrong turns during school drop-offs or comically pursued dogs until stumbling. 'Remember when...' initiates these reminiscences, and you casually wonder why you allowed your children to grow up. Once, Children's Day was festively marked, with children's futures stretching ahead, setting them apart from fathers, whose futures seemed relegated to the past.
Father's Day is an occasion for receiving socks and ties and T-shirts as gifts, delightful if you're running low on these, but not so much when your collection burgeons, forcing eventual giveaways. I once spotted the mail carrier donning a t-shirt I had given to the gardener. Evidently, the gardener was as impressed with the t-shirt as I was, employing the same tactic – passing it on to someone else.
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When we were much younger, I got a mug on Father’s Day (actually, I was the mug on Father’s Day). It said: ‘World’s Greatest Dad’. The message was clear: sarcasm was my son’s strength.
My own father was uninterested in Father’s Day. I once wrote him a letter which I thought he could sell for a fortune when I became famous, and he returned it with all the spelling mistakes and grammar corrected. I didn’t send him a corrected version, and we never spoke of this or Father’s Day again. It is a wise father who knows his son, said Shakespeare. But it’s a wiser son who knows his father.
I have two types of friends: those who look forward to Father’s Day with eager anticipation, and expect cheery messages and surprise gifts, and those who await it with trepidation for the same reasons. I belong to a third group, and remain in denial for a day, unhappy if the child calls and unhappy if he doesn’t.
I don’t know if mothers have such issues on Mother’s Day, or secretaries on Secretary’s Day or labourers on Labour Day, or indeed valentines on Valentine’s Day. Are they caught in the middle, between expectation and disappointment or expectation and its fulfilment? Do such special days come with any antidotes? If we celebrate a little less will the world stop going around for a little bit?
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