A Butter Knife Breakfast and Other Delhi Delights

I awoke this morning to comedy outside my window, which faces the front of the building. Men, in preparation for the coming monsoon, were sweeping the street. One was not even on the street, but diligently using the broom to redistribute dust in an all dirt area across the way. The guys from taxi service across from this building were washing their taxis. I don’t get it. I don’t get so many things in this country. I think it’s secretly part of my love for it. So many things don’t make sense, and yet they still happen.

Man sweeping dirt lot

To close this past week, we had a hospital meeting led by Dr. Shroff and Dr. Ashish. All of the patients and their caregivers were invited. Sitting in front of them, hearing them talk, keeps me in constant awe. It doesn’t matter what they are saying. I seem always surprised at how “real” they are. They are willing to answer questions from patients or caregivers anytime. They give us insight into what’s going on here, and in the world of their stem cell therapy that we don’t see; the lab, the older hospital in which they have a special needs department for children, the changes in protocol they are constantly revising, etc. As I look around the room, I realize to a heightened level what being here means, for myself and for all of those that will come after me, and after that group. We are part of something literally as large as life, and so is each and every one of our loved ones at home. This experience reaches further than I think any of us are yet to realize.

I have finally conquered jetlag, although only with the help of a tiny yellow pill (courtesy of Dr. Shroff). But, still….mission accomplished. I am sleeping at night and rising early at 5:30 a.m. every morning with glee. With my time clock mostly adjusted (except for the much-too-early risings), my energy has been revived and I am able to get out into this crazy city. I marvel at what lives beyond the streets of this hospital. I soak in the colors, smells (oh, the smells of summer -- and we are not talking flowers), and sights.

Two markets yesterday with the wife of an inspirational patient, and a new friend for me, filled me to the brim with the chaos of Delhi. She was a stellar sport, even while dragging her to such a crowded marketplace, that you had to literally dodge sweaty bodies to keep them from rubbing against you. Beggars begged. Horns honked. Haggling chatter filled the air. Rain threatened. I bought two baggy, flowing shirts that will be comfortable during physio, and for times out in this sticky heat where you want your clothes as far from your skin as possible. When I got back and further inspected one shirt, I realized it was the surf brand name Billabong. I bought it for 150 rupees, which is about $3. In the states, the shirt would the standard Billabong shirt price of $24.99.

Since there is no physio on Sundays, a group of us went out to a village a couple of miles away that houses some ancient tombs and sports a picturesque lake that was one of my favorite places during my last trip. We walked there (and those in wheelchairs “rolled” there) navigating and weaving around cars, bikes, stray dogs, Indian gawkers, and everything in between. The rain decided to come with its impeccable timing, drenching us as if we stood completely clothed in the shower. Thankfully with the rain came a slight cooling to the air, which gave us a much-needed reprieve as we made our way through flooded streets back to the hospital.

Women guiding donkeys away from a construction project
where they were moving dirt (the donkeys, not the women)

Sitting outside a Hindu temple on the way to the village

Lake at the village

Tombs at the village

Make-shift rain coverage

In an attempt to feed my baby stem cells without adding any more pounds to the rest of me, I diced and sliced some fruit (and somehow my middle finger) with a butter knife. I had been collecting pieces from here and there for a couple of days. The hospital gives us one per day, and I bought a few things during my market adventure. The seasonal fruit is so different than when I was here last time. Indian blueberries tempt me every time I walk by a basket being sold on the street; but my better senses remind me they cannot be boiled or peeled which could lead to a disastrous stomach nightmare. So, I stop and look every time -- and then pout as I walk away from the plump berries that resemble olives more than anything else. My fruit salad was well worth the work, which was intense; peeling peaches, a mango, a pear and an orange and then rinsing them all with bottled water for added protection. Cutting the firmer fruit was a challenge with my lone choice for a knife, which is designed for soft (and definitely skinless) food items. “Keggs” labeled “nearly organic” are always a staple item in my little room here and once hard-boiled, added to my breakfast . I am still unsure of the difference between an “egg” and a “kegg,” and what “nearly organic” means exactly, but I’ve made peace with the fact that I don’t know. Sometimes I wonder if it’s actually better that way.

Keggs and fruit salad

As the weekend nears an end, I look forward to what the week will bring. Chavi has warned me of a challenging week in physio since I am so much stronger than last time. I am hoping I might get a spinal procedure to continue to enhance the power from my hips through my lower body. My calves and feet are still shakier than I’d like. When doing balancing tricks for my doctor at home, he always says they’d be even better if it weren’t for that weakness. And in true Amy style, I want them to be even better. Sometimes when I walk a distance, they shake as well. I try to use exercise to fix it, but as of yet, I haven’t had much luck so I'm thinking it's something beyond needing to build muscle, but am not sure what that is. It would also be a huge benefit if through a spinal procedure I could see some more improvement in my brain lesions. Depending on where and how they inject the stem cells into the spine, it affects certain function. Only time will tell if I will get any procedure this time; and if so, which procedures they’ll do and when. Everything is in the hands of my stem cell gurus (a.k.a, Dr. Shroff and Dr. Ashish).

Just like cutting fruit with a butter knife, and eating “keggs” for breakfast…..going with the flow is key here. Go against it and surely you will drown. Learn to go with it and all that a world of unknowns can bring, and you might just find out it's truly the best way of life.

Permalink | 5 comments

Email this | Subscribe | Delicious | Digg | StumbleUpon | Facebook | Technorati

About Amy B. Scher

A passionate author, pioneering patient, and sassy spirit with just enough sweetness to get me by, I live by my self-created motto: when life kicks your ass, kick back.Amy B. Scher's profile Amy B. Scher's blog