Some Kind of Wonderful

i watched movies all the time in the hospital. they served as a distraction, an escape from the horrid reality, and they made me happy, well, most of the time... so one day, i was watching the movie sex and the city 1, and at the end when (spoiler alert) big proposes to carrie with the pretty manolos in that gorgeous, giant closet, i started sobbing. but i wasnt crying like i normally do with sappy movies, i was literally sobbing. carrie finally had her happy ending, and i wanted mine. it was/is so incredibly unfair. i think becoming paralyzed in any way is the worst fate imaginable. i completely lost the life i once had. taking away something someone had that was essential to every part of their life is brutal. there is nothing happy about it and no real ending. now if i had been unable to use my legs from birth, i wouldnt know what it feels like to run past the duke chapel or feel the thrill of dancing on stage, so i couldnt miss it. you couldnt take a life away from me that i never had. but i did have a hell of a life. now i cant even go to school or see my friends much. and there is definitely no running or dancing. some might say being diagnosed with a terminal illness is worse. while it definitely is hard, at least there is an ending. this is like a never ending struggle where you are cursed to remember eveyday the life you once had. Dante once said, "There is no greater woe than in misery to remember the happy time." So memories can sometimes lift you up, while other times they bring you down. But just when you think your life is doomed, happy things can surprise you. I want to leave you all with a story that was really powerful for me. Its the best kind of story, it's a love story. It's about a love that is unbreakable, like Devdas and Paro, brave like Romeo and Juliet, and happy like Big and Carrie. Okay, so once upon a time, there was a boy and a girl. They met in high school, and started dating. They dated for about a year, but things didn't work out, so they broke up. Then about a year later, he had a terrible accident. He broke his neck, and was paralyzed from the neck down. He was in and out of the hospital for seven years and had undergone many surgeries. He remains paralyzed, but has some use of his arms. About 2 years ago, after the boy and girl hadn't seen each other in 8 years, they saw each other at a bar. They started talking and now 2 years later, they are madly in love and on the way to a happy marriage. They realized they were soulmates. I have never met them, but I'm sure they are both incredible people, brave enough to embrace their love, strong enough to hold on to their love, and smart enough to see what fate had in store for them. I realized that happy things, no, wonderful things can happen to people who have had bad strokes or streaks of luck.

The Sun will come out tomorrow

WHY DID THIS HAPPEN TO ME?!?! after the question of 'what' came the question of 'why' which will probably take up a few posts since i still havent found a proper answer. since many people find answers in religion so lets start there. i was a pretty religious person, and my moms family was the most religious family you would ever come across, so obviously i was kind of too. i had been to temples all over the world, went on various pilgramages, fasted ever so often, bathed in the ganges river (ew who does that?! haha babu), and prayed everyday for me and my familys health and happiness. now, what good did any of that do? i received the opposite of my measly request. now lets look deeper at the beliefs of hinduism. so i think most people of every religion follow the rules of karma, if you do whats right and fulfill everything asked of you, good things will happen to you. so thats what i had lived by, good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. so i was a good daughter, a good sister, a good hindu, a good girlfriend, a good friend, a good student, a good person. i was all set to live a good life. but then i had to learn the hard way - bad things happen to good people. since hindus believe in reincarnation, it has been mentioned that maybe im paying for something from my last life. well wow, i must have been someone terrible in my last life, someone like lord voldemort! but really, i cant think of anyone terrible enough to deserve this fate. another popular theory is that of the evil eye. i hate this one. it basically says the jealousy from other people can bring bad luck to good things in a persons life. call me naiive, but i believe people are inherently good and cant cause bad things in others lives. the last theory is that maybe god let this happen, but is now helping me on this road to recovery. but this road has been paved with pain and suffering so far. i may have great people in my life, but they cant be there when push comes to shove. i dont see the merciful hand of god in any of this, yet. so, you can understand my frustration with this whole religion thing. so as you can imagine, god and i arent on speaking terms right now. the only thing i do religously is watch gilmore girls everyday and the closest thing i have to a god or someone i listen to is uncle jesse, my brother, or nisha mukherjee. when all else fails, the one person that i can still trust, that i can still follow, that i can still listen to, is myself. so welcome to the religion of harshada. we have no rituals and no rules, no prophets and no gods, no bibles and no churches, just one, little belief that gets me through everyday - though today might be terrible, the sun will come out tomorrow.

More than words

'what the f?!?'' was the one question that was constantly haunting my mind. i had no idea what was going on, what happened in the past, and what would happen in the future. so i wanted answers. i was hungry for answers. but i wasnt getting any. (the truth was no one really had any answers). so listened so carefully to the prized few words of my doctors, nurses, and therapists. i held onto every word, tried to read between the lines. sometimes i even would feel hopeful or not based on their tone or attitude. like i had one doctor who was saying positive things, but he kept saying 'hopefully' in a pessimisstic voice, so i cried for hours afterward. there were some times when no one could say anything right., but every word affected me, good and bad. doctors, nurses, therapists, and anyone in the health field needs to not only recognize the huge honor that comes with the territory, but the huge responsibility you undertake. your patients are in extremely vulnerable positions, at the mercy of their illness that they dont understand, so they look to you for answers. your words hold so much power and can either make or break your patients. ive come across doctors and nurses of all kinds-some who were just awful who talked to me with insensitivity and pessimism, some who were insensitive and talked to me in baby talk, some who were uncomfortable and talked to me slow and loud like i was dumb (im no albert einstein, but im smart dammit!), and some who were amazing and talked to me with sensitivity and empathy and treated me like a normal human being. and when in doubt, they were positive. as a health professional, i think it takes a strong person to be empathettic,and it takes a brave person to be positive, but its vital. the first 3 months inthe hospital, no one really said much openly positive things. there was so much unknown, so people just didnt say anything. but then, when i started regaining some movement, the whole atmosphere changed. everyone around had a happier attitude, a more hopeful tone. everyone was so excited to see what moved next. one morning, after i had regained at least one muscle in all my extremities, my resident was checking on me, and her next eight words changed my life forever..'WOW. you would be a great PM&R doctor!' (PM&R - physical medicine and rehabilitation) i was so touched she thought i could be good in her profession, but what really empowered me was the earth shattering thought that i would one day be healthy enough to be a doctor! the power of those words could last me a lifetime. i thought all my hopes and dreams had been destroyed with the stroke, but now i had a bigger and better dream to believe in. i already knew my family and friends believed in me, and now with my doctors believing in me, the sky was the limit. now, i just had to believe...

nada fue un error

'nothing was a mistake' btw - i dont think many of you will like reading this, but read it through. they say a stroke in a young person is worse than death. they also say having 'locked in' syndrome is like being buried alive. i had both, and i would describe that as being tortured to death daily and not dying. i often think back to the day of my stroke, what if i had died then? yes, it would have saved me months and probably years of pain, suffering, and humiliation. but it would have left everyone around me utterly devastated. i always come back to the fact that i did survive and there has to be a reason for that. but it is really hard to think of that fact everyday. instead, i dont think a day has gone by where i havent thought, 'wouldnt it be better if i just give up and end this pain?' its probably sad to say, but i understand suicide. when your everyday is much worse and more painful than the unknown, when youre haunted in your daily reality by demons, when it hurts, physically, emotionally, mentally, spiritually to be alive, then why not? right? wrong. i may understand suicide, i dont agree with it. (so, dont worry folks, im not going anywhere. and i couldnt physically get to the top of a building even if i wanted to! but thats another story). i think suicide is the most selfish thing you can do. you would need permission to leave from every single person whos life youre a part of, and i dont think thats possible. i think it takes an extraordinarily strong person to get up and face those demons everyday, but, i havent had to be that strong, because i have had a whole army of people (and cranes) being strong for me. i remember back in medical school, on my medicine rotation, we had a patient who was on the verge of death. he had a cancer that was taking over his body. he was enduring so much pain and suffering to stay alive. he said he couldnt just give up, because he considered that suicide and that was against his religion. the difference between me and him and the reason why i survived that awful november day, is the hope that i will one day, have a better life. i think i dont have the foresight (or the height) to see over this mountain, through the smoke, to the paradise ahead, where i have a happy life. so imagine this vision and believe it for me, because sometimes, most of the time, i cant see it.

living on a prayer

'dont worry, she will be fine in two months.' these were the outrageous words that were told to me by family members everyday. these were the words meant to comfort me and ease my mind, but instead, they enraged me. these were the impossible words that had absolutely no reason or logic behind it, nor any explanation along with it. but, these were also the words that saved my life... my family was told this in late december from someone they trusted and respected. and thats all they needed, they were convinced, i was going to be fine by the end of february. so everytime i cried, everytime i felt hopeless, they tried to console me with these words, but these words only made me cry more. i hated hearing them because they were so wild and farfetched and quite impossible. these words made absolutely no sense and they werent based on anything real. i was so angry that people could believe arbitrary words so blindly. i wasnt only angry, i was also so jealous. it seemed so easy for them to just believe. my mind could be at peace if i just believed, instead, my scared, curious mind was destroying me. but a teeny, tiny part of me wondered what if it were true?!? if everyone in my family kept repeating these words confidently, why wouldnt they be true? the thought was a tease, but it was an exciting thought. it would be magical, miraculous, amazing to have my life back. that little, tiny part of me gave me hope, enough hope to get me to february. january came and went and by mid february, i was still pretty much still paralyzed. maybe there was slight movement in my neck and left arm, but there was nothing 'fine' about me. i knew this 'prophecy' couldnt come true, but still that little part of me, prayed and hoped for a miracle. but there was no miracle. it was february 28th, and i wasnt 'fine' at all. but something magical HAD happened. in the last couple of weeks, my therapists had discovered more movement. i could move some muscle in each one of my limbs! it was all coming back to me now, i knew it, i felt it. so maybe i wasnt technically 'fine', but now, i KNEW one day i would be. one day, someone will tell me, 'dont worry, you will be fine in two months,' and i will. i guess thats why they call these things a leap of faith. its a leap where there is no net of logic and reason to break your fall, you can only leap and hope your feet finally hit the ground, or in my case, your feet finally...moved.

you wont be lonely, even if the sky is falling down

love vs. hate, loyalty vs. jealousy, empathy vs. envy... these were the battles going on in my head every second of everyday. thats what i was struggling with whenever i encountered anyone - family, friends, nurses, doctors, therapists, strangers, EVERYONE. instead of loving them for being there, i was hating them for their ability to talk to me. instead of feeling a sense of loyalty to them for staying by my side, i was jealous of them for being able to walk into my room. instead of empathizing with their problems, i envied them for having normal problems. these feelings didnt spare anyone. if youre reading this, chances are, i hated you too. these feelings would eventually go away, after considerable mental effort on my part to help the good feelings overcome the bad. sometimes it would take seconds, minutes, hours, sometimes days. part of me did genuinely love everyone around me, but part of me did hate them for being so normal and by merely existing, they reminded me how alone i was. u could say my love was like a battlefield. i felt so alone because no one could possibly understand what i was going through, no one could truly understand how i was feeling, no one could really understand my problems and sufferings. i was completely alone in this journey and seeing 'normal' people around me reminded me of that. i remember around valentines day last year, i had to keep a straight face while people were telling me their fabulous, romantic plans or complaints about their love life, when really i was dying on the inside. i felt jealous, useless, down, alone. i didnt want to feel those awful things anymore. i had to convince myself, though it is an ongoing process, that i was, in fact, not alone. though they couldnt fully understand my struggle, i had so many loving, caring people around me who were doing all they could to be there for me, and for now that would have to be enough. now when i see someone, im reminded that even if the universe is falling apart around me, even if the world as i know is no more, even if the sky is falling down, im not alone, i have you.

hold my hand

i remember back in the first day of anatomy lab, it wasnt the eyes or the face of the cadaver that caught my eye, it was the hands that bothered me most. they looked so human and lifelike, but they were eerily limp and lifeless. i was reminded of that image when i looked at my hands lying still and motionless on the bed. its as if they were dead. they didnt even seem like part of me because no matter how much i focused and concentrated on them, they remained motionless. i remember holding the cadavers hand, it was so surreal, it looked so real, but it didnt hold me back. that is how i felt all the time. whether it was my nurse, my doctor, my mom, or my friend, i felt the warmth and support as the held my hand, but i couldnt hold them back. i felt dead. i woke up a couple mornings so incredibly excited because my dream, that felt so real, was about being able to text again! (only i would have a dream like that!) but every morning i would wake up, look down at my hands, and realize they were still dead. something needed to change. but i had been in the hospital for over two months now, and nothing had really changed, so they started preparing us to leave. they started teaching my mom how to feed me medicine through my PEG tube and teaching my dad how to transfer me with the massive hoyer lift. i cant even describe to you the anger, humiliation, and horror i felt. i had told myself in the ICU that i would rather die before i was a burden at home. this was all unbearable. but then, my left arm magically woke up. i woke up one morning with a weird feeling i had never felt before. i felt the tiniest bit of power, strength, activity in my left arm. my therapist sarah confirmed that yes, my triceps muscle in my left arm was awake, and i knew the other muscles in my left arm would come back. i was waking up, coming back from the dead, and i was happy for the first time in awhile. still, sometimes i wonder what it would it be like if I were dead and still sometimes, i feel like im dead, but with this mind racing, and this heart beating, im definitely still alive, and now, if you hold my hand, i can hold back.

ps - 'things will get better if you just hold my hand' (right jay?)