My parents called me lucky and I guess it’s absolutely true to me - “I am lucky".
You may be wondering what makes me feel lucky?
It’s the feeling that I am alive and going to be with my family, my loved ones. That makes me feel lucky and very happy.
If I flashback the feeling wasn't the same. When I was asked to be admitted to the hospital, it was the most dreadful day of my life. I felt that nothing worse than this could happen. I had to leave my son who was 4 years old and I was shattered. I packed my bag with all the basics, like tooth-paste and brush and I still remember the moment my son asked me in Hindi- my mother tongue mummy - where are we going, shall I get my bag? I was really torn apart as to how I would let him go?? How would I live without him?
But finally the moment arrived and I left him behind in the car of one of my husband’s friends. We reached the hospital ward were I was called to be admitted. My husband accompanied me and I was taken to the room which appeared just like a dungeon with one small window. The nurse came in wearing a mask and asked my husband to leave. I felt like I was deserted and with no hope. It was 10pm on 14 June 2011.
I asked the nurse how long I would have to stay there? She said the “doctors will let you know”, consoled me and asked me to relax and take a rest. Later I was informed that I would be going for an X-ray late in the night. It was around 2.00 am early morning; the nurse gave me a mask to wear as I could breathe only in the mask. It made me feel like an alien.
Next morning the doctors, the consultant who had to look after me was there to talk to me about my condition. He told me that the kind of bug I am infected with is a very resistant type and as the sputum sample grew, I could spread it as I breathed, so I have to be in ISOLATION until my sputum didn't grow it again. Basically it was a selfless sacrifice for others' well-being. He told me that there would be further sensitivity testing of the drugs to see whether the drugs are working or not.
Meanwhile the second line of treatment was started. It was 10-15 tablets and intravenous injection twice a day. It was a hellish feeling but still with a dim hope of being cured. I cried all day for my son and wanted to see him, feel him, love him.
Those days were the worst period of my life…..