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When the going gets tough, we, as humans, tend to wallow in self pity. However, sometimes seeing others with a tougher life gets us rethinking!
Damaged women are the most dangerous kind, because they already know they can survive.
This is the lesson I learnt from a mother whose kidneys failed. She is under dialysis and looking for a transplant.
Here is her story….and mine.
The socialite in me turned a complete 360 degrees post my divorce, my mother’s death, father’s illness, work tensions, mothering a child and my blood pressure – wait!
Before you get bored of my complaints, let me tell you I am in my forties. I have aged and become an introvert. I was a young mother when I lost my own mother, and also got divorced. Since then, I have been at the receiving end of this misogynistic patriarchal society. To certain a extent it added to my bitterness.
Staying indoors and brooding was what I found myself doing, quite often along with wallowing in self pity.
Though I managed three surgeries on my own, I would often think that I was the only one who had everything going wrong. There were days when depression and anxiety would overpower me and I would simply sulk or go down the path of self pity.
Then there were days when I even wished death for myself. The logic was simple, I die and along with me end all the woes. In one word, I would sum up these virulent thoughts as “rubbish”.
So it was one afternoon just before the Ganpati Puja vacation, my daughter asked me to accompany her to her friend Devangi’s house. They were all working on a school project and intended to finish it before the puja.
I was unwilling and tried to find excuses to avoid going to Devangi’s place. Ultimately, I gave in and had to go since the situation called for it.
I remember it was raining heavily when we reached her place. We were welcomed by a gleeful Devangi. I was offered a glass of water by a lady in a white coat. I wasn’t sure if she was Devangi’s mother. So I decided to watch the children complete their project on the water cycle.
Minutes later I was called inside the bedroom by the lady in the white coat. There I met Devangi’s mother for the first time. A jubilant, beautiful young woman lying on the bed asking me to sit next to her and watch television soaps.
What I found out was that her kidneys had failed and she underwent dialysis twice a week. She was unable to look after the household or manage her three daughters (who are doing extremely well in their studies). Of the three daughters, two are already lodged in a hostel for higher education. The youngest one, Devangi, studied with my daughter.
The white coated women was her attendant and there was another domestic worker round the clock to manage the cooking and other household chores. We were at their place for an hour and not for a single moment did the lady complain about her physical afflictions or her life.
Mind you, dialysis is a painful process. And there I sat, a sad soul ever ready to share my story of how cruel life had been to me. No, not once did she ask me about my personal life. On the contrary, she shared her story of hope that a day will come when she will be off of dialysis and be healthy again to take care of everyone.
We are all aware about the sad demise of Minister Sushma Swaraj despite her kidney transplant. However, there still are thousands of people suffering silently this dreaded kidney failure and the hazards of dialysis.
Devangi’s mother is one such person.
What other lessons of positivity, hope and faith do I need to survive?
That is when I decided I had had enough of self pity.
Picture credits: Unsplash
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