The way it is

Busy times these. Humid, hectic. The hearing in my right ear is still overly sensitive so I've been avoiding attending church services with the obligatory drums pounding deep into the recesses of my ear bones and making me miserable. It's almost 3 months after the surgery but I have no idea when my ear will acclimatise itself. Also most sounds are still higher on the bass register and I can't wait to be able to hear treble notes again.

I've also put on a lot of weight. Not sure how much precisely since I don't make a habit of stepping on the scales but definitely enough for all my clothes to feel tight and stretched. And that's if I can still get into them at all. I feel heavy, slow and sluggish, and the monsoonal weather isn't helping any. Oh, and did I mention my arthritis? I inherited it from my maternal grandmother who couldn't get up from a herhsawp (a low circular stool made of cane or bamboo) without clutching her knees and yelping "Aaih, aaih, aaih!"

The World Cup was great. The last two passed by with me not really registering much of it because it takes a lot to wean me off the computor and the internet. This time Facebook provided great company. A page called Ban the Annoying Vuvuzela etc gave me daily laughs as people (as in regular, eloquent, adult folks and not silly, incoherent teens) threw in wit, sarcasm, indignation, annoyance, and a generous dose of plain stupidity to make for a very lively discussion group. Unfortunately, the page sank under the weight of its own popularity, and disappeared halfway through the competition.

At work, I've been assigned something new that I'm not sure I can do justice to. Rhetoric and prosody is something that I never formally studied so it's going to be a tremendous challenge mastering all the intricacies involved enough to be able to teach it all in turn. I know I'm going to benefit a lot from it once I sort out what's what but for the moment, argh, my workload weighs heavy. Wish me luck.

With the angels..

Totie passed away this afternoon. He was 13. He was named indirectly after Dodie, the man Princess Diana died with, and who were both in the news at the time. My sister thought the name Dodie was just so cute and begged to name the puppy with it but I said no, so we settled on Totie. 13 years is a long time especially for dogs. I read somewhere that 1 human year equals 7 for a dog so that would mean Totie was 91. While he did have filmy eyes, decaying teeth, incontinence, and not too sharp hearing, our 5 year Koorie kept him lively, dragging him to play when he would have probably preferred to sleep quietly. Totie sometimes snapped back impatiently but most times, he let Koorie tease him around, which inadvertently helped him get some good exercise.

As my sister and I have been leafing through old photographs of our many dogs, we're having problems remembering who was born when, whose mother was who, whose sibling was who and so on. We're also realising that 13 years is also a long, long time for human beings.

My 15 Minutes of Fame

Just when I was thinking I've been there, done that, seen everything there is to be seen in life, along came this. The feeling is incredibly sweet. Having somebody appreciate something you've done to the extent they're happy to fork out money to buy it is just mindblowingly ego-boosting. Especially when it's so completely unexpected.

It's also been something of a major eye-opener. Though I don't really know a thing about art, I enjoy visiting the local art shows and often come across a piece that catches my eye. But I usually psyche myself out of actually making a buy. It's either too expensive or the artist is too unknown or the colour won't suit our walls or something or the other. An artist friend of mine keeps telling me to buy something to "encourage" the young talents but I never do. This experience has shown me how exhilarating, inspiring and galvanizing it is having something you've done monetarily appreciated. Sure, mine wasn't the best piece of photography on display. There were several others with great style, technique, impact and what have you. But this guy comes along and connects with my picture and instead of dilly-dallying like I usually do, clinches the deal. Moral of story: you may not be the most well-off person you know but if it's not going to set you back too badly, pick up a piece that speaks to you and go for it. At the end of the day, art isn't really about technique or colour co-ordination or future investments but something that speaks to your heart.

Who will Love a Little Sparrow?

Who will love a little sparrow?

Will no one write her eulogy?

- Paul Simon

And so in typical airbrained female fashion, after all my angst over my SLR cam, I went and got myself a zoom lens and have been happily discovering the world of difference it makes to my photographs. I still know zilch about the techno aspects of the cam - still in blissfully ignorant limbo about shutter speeds, exposures, ISOs and the like. But even in auto mode, I'm just blown away by the results.

I've been specially concentrating on the sparrows that throng the Mayflower tree right by the house. Leastways, I got in a few shots on a couple of sunny days till the weather turned on its head and has been spewing waterworks endlessly over the last couple of weeks, and just about denuding the tree of its vibrant, scarlet flowers. I've discovered first hand that birds are infuriatingly difficult to shoot because they're so timid and fly away at the slightest sound or movement. Also they just won't stay still unless you catch them at special moments. I have to say I've developed a very healthy respect for birdwatchers. That kind of patience is just phenomenal.

Though I haven't exactly managed to get really, really good shots yet, these are a few that I really like, even if I do say so myself. A couple of them I was even pursuaded to send in for a local photo exhibit that started today. I was bursting with curiousity to see how good or bad they looked so I went to check after work. It felt strange seeing something you had created out in public for everyone to see and though they aren't great pictures by any means, I'm proud of my little sparrows :)

PDAs: Cringetime!

What do you do when you're out in a public place minding your own business and you're suddenly confronted with a couple unabashedly creating a public display of affection? Consider them fair game and ogle them happily? Quickly avert your eyes and pretend you can't see them? Act totally blasé like you're exposed to exhibits like that every day? Confront them with a sound lecture on public behaviour?

At one of the eating places I went to on my recent trip, my cousin and I were hungrily lunching on something nice and Chinese when this young couple walked in and sat down at the table right next to ours. Both looked Chinese, in their early to mid 20s, fair, decently dressed and had a few shopping bags. Although they were sitting directly in my line of sight, I was probably so busy digging into my food I didn't notice when they started acting touchy feely. My cousin who was actually sitting with her back to them was the one to bring them to my notice. The restaurant was cosily dark with tinted windows but not so cinema hall dark that customers might end up eating spoonfuls of salt. And besides it was around 2 in the afternoon with the sun in full blast mode outside. None of that bothered the couple. The woman would lean her head on his shoulder like she'd been carrying a quintal-full headload all day and her neck was now dying on her. He would smoothen her hair, murmur presumed wee wee words of love in her ear. When their food arrived in arrays of plates and bowls, they fussed around and when I next looked, she was coyly feeding him like he was some imbecelic overgrown child having trouble feeding on his own.

Ok so they didn't actually put on a physically intimate free show, at least not when I was looking, nothing that might've got them booked for indecent behaviour in public. But it got me thinking that while times change and the country and its people aren't as conservative and buttoned-up as it/we used to be, surely you should stop to consider whether your public peccadilloes are embarrassing the unwary around you and take it someplace private.

Thank you, Jesus

A quick post of something that's just too precious to me to not blog about. CMC Hospital in Vellore being originally founded by a Christian missionary, there's plenty of evidence of its Christian origin despite it being overrun by non-Christian staff and patients today. Like the chapel on the ground floor that's easily accessible to everyone and whose goings-on you can listen to via audio set-ups in the privacy of your room even up on the 9th floor of A Block. And the many Bible-themed pieces of art in unexpected places all over the hospital campus.

What's especially dear to me is the picture of Jesus that hangs over the OT door, something similar to the picture above though probably not the same. When you're flat on your back being wheeled in for surgery, all you see is the space directly above you. So a picture over a door you're passing through instantly catches your eye. I remember being tremendously reassured by the picture years ago when I was first wheeled in, and often thought of it in later years. Not that I ever heard anyone mention it though. Last month, as I was again being wheeled in, I wondered if it would still be there and there it was. A little the worse for wear, with the inevitable Indian-style floral garland around it but still the same. It instantly took me back 17 years ago when the thought of Jesus being with me through the surgery gave me such comfort - not that I'm the type that's afraid of needles, blood, surgery etc. Amid the flood of memories, one thought came to mind - a Bible verse. "Lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the earth." And I had to fight back a tear that the Lord is with me always, remains true and faithful, and stands by His promises.

All about a Ear

Finally a post to fill all you concerned folks in on my surgery. I had my stapedotomy (slightly different from a stapedectomy in that the dec version is done on folks with stapes, which are the smallest bones in the human body, but since I was weirdly born with no stapes, I was given the do version ) on Tuesday, the 27th April, rather late in the day.

The doctor originally said it would take about 45 minutes but she later said it turned out to be more difficult that they'd thought so they took a little over 2 hours. It was done under local anaesthesia but possibly because they said I'd have to keep my head in the same position for 12 hours after surgery to help keep the piston in place, nurses gave me sedative shots on both hips before the surgery. That made me very sleepy but the docs kept asking if I was alright etc etc. Towards the end, the questions came so often I couldn't sleep and though I couldn't actually feel the pain of the whole microscoping thing that was going on, my earlobe ached badly from the pulling/holding in place and I fervently wished it was all over. While I had been terribly apprehensive about the whole not moving my head for 12 hours thing, it was about 6 in the evening when I was wheeled back to my room and with one thing after another, it was night time anyway and I slept like a baby through the crucial hours.

According to my discharge summary, I had a single fixed crura with a thickened footplate. 3/4 of the posterior of the footplate was removed and a 3.5 x 0.6 mm Teflon prosthesis inserted. A week later, the padding inserted in my ear was removed and I could hear normally. Everything was overloud though. Also the removal of the bit of bone makes things echo a lot but the doctor said it will soon go away.

What I feel is like I'm wearing a hearing aid which amplifies every sound like crazy but I'm told I just need to adjust gradually. About 20 days after the surgery, I'm still taking it easy at home and going around with cottonwool stuffed in my ear to minimise the impact of loud noises. Things still sound very distorted and I feel disoriented and sometimes unable to tell which direction a sound is from. I think someone's talking on my right but when I look, they're on my left. And this morning, as it was raining with thunder rumbling in the sky, I asked if it was thunder or the sound of a vehicle outside the house. Little problems like that. Very confusing. But I also know it's getting better because 3/4 days after the surgery, I couldn't stand the hiss of the pressure cooker and had to escape from the kitchen. Now it doesn't hurt my ear so much anymore. Also I've been reading up a lot on online forums about the problems and what have yous of other stap patients and what I'm going through seems to be quite normal. It's just going to take a while for my ear to heal completely. I'm just so thankful it's been a successful surgery.

Finally, here's a video of a stap operation for the more curious. Very minute surgery as you can see, and only performed by the most experienced and skilled surgeons.

Of Easter and hope of a personal renewal

For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have fallen asleep.


Easter will roll around again tomorrow. I don't feel it so strongly now but come tomorrow morning I'll be misty-eyed again about the implications of Easter, of redemption and life hereafter. And of seeing my parents again someday.

I especially miss my mother these days. In a couple of weeks time, I will be continuing something that we had done together over 17 years ago. In October 1992, we had made a trip down south to Vellore on medical advice regarding my auditory perception. A minor surgery was performed on my left ear and more importantly, it was discovered I have a congenital malformation of the stapes (an important part of the inner ear). The doctors told me to come back for a review five years later but when Mum died two years later, I just never went back. It wasn't as if I was terribly inconvenienced so I got by somehow. And with one thing after another, I never really gave the issue much thought.

Till recently when my right ear just couldn't even properly pick up whispers anymore. Took off to a local audiologist who ran a test and showed me sophisticated hearing aids in the price range of 70,000 to one lakh rupees. I slept it over and decided the next day to go for the other option: have a stapedectomy done which involves inserting a little prosthesis called a piston in the inner ear. An intricate piece of microsurgery which can restore hearing to practically normal. A botched job can cause nerve damage or worse, permanent loss of hearing.

So instead of buying a one lakh something hearing aid which even the audiologist admitted doesn't actually stand up to natural hearing, I'll be going back to Vellore for that long overdue surgery. And I'm going to miss my mother a lot. But then again, I know she'll be with me in spirit - thanks to the promise of Easter.