Life Is What You Make It A Story Of Love, Hope And How Determination Can Overcome Even Destiny (19 page)

I nodded.

“Right now, you are here,” he said as he marked a point right at the bottom of the curve. “That is why you have attempted to kill yourself twice.”

I was silent.

“It is an illness like any other illness. See, when you have a fracture, you go to an orthopaedic, right? And when you have a toothache you go to a Dentist? In the same way, when you have an illness of the mind, you come to us. People have a stigma about it. They do not understand the severity of it. People simply cannot snap out of it, they need to be treated in order to get better,” he explained.

I was silent again, but he was looking into my eyes, trying to gauge if what he was saying was registering. He could see that it was beginning to sink in.

“Look, Ankita,” he continued “ECT has got some very bad press but it is not at all like that. It is not how they show it in the movies. Please do not be afraid. It can be life saving and can produce dramatic results. Right now Ankita, you are at the rock bottom of the curve. In these circumstances, it is very likely that you will attempt to harm yourself again, unless we administer this. We could have put you on anti depressants but it would have taken three weeks for it to work. I really did not want to risk that. The main thing about ECT is that suicide attempts are rare after administering it. Only thing is that it has to be done twice a week. After a week we will evaluate if further treatment is needed or not.”

I did not know what to say. It was the first time in months that somebody was explaining what was happening to me and assuring me that it was okay. It was the first time in months that somebody was talking to me like I mattered. It was the first time that I was being assured that I need not feel guilty for something that was out of my control.

I had agonised over not being able to ‘snap out of it’ and blamed myself, telling myself that it was ‘a ll in my head’ and if I wanted I could just change my thoughts and be fine again. I was being told that it was not like that at all and what I was facing now had a name, there were several people in the world much like myself who were being treated for it. It was beyond my control and I was in safe hands and would be taken care of.

The relief I was beginning to feel was like the first drops of rain on a drought filled parched earth that was beginning to crack up with the heat.

“It is going to be hard, Ankita. The feeling of worthlessness and extreme depression coupled with forces that you cannot control and that tell you to kill yourself will recur and come back to you, again and again. They are going to come in waves. You must not give in. You have to co-operate and help us to fight it. We are with you, not against you.”

At that point if he had told me that holding a coconut and dancing around on one foot would make me feel better, I would have gladly believed him.

He was offering me the last vestiges of hope and I was clinging to it with the desperation of a drowning person.

20

A tiny ray of hope

T
o say that staying in the private room all by myself was tough would be like saying that it is hard to climb Mount Everest without capabilities of extreme levels of physical endurance. But unlike a person climbing the Everest, I had no choice in the matter at all. There was no option but to stay put. It felt surreal. The windows had strong iron grills like the cages in a zoo, probably to prevent any attempts of jumping out. There was nothing in the room with which one could hurt oneself. There was not even a table. The room just had a bed and no other piece of furniture

The emptiness of the room, in a strange way, seemed to suit the emptiness of my mind. I found the atmosphere a safe shell to which I could escape. I did not have my parents hovering over me urging me to take medication. I did not have the pressure to go back to college. I did not feel compelled to read. I did not have to do anything. My time was my own. I never expected this and was surprised to find that I had found a cocoon I could go into in and insulate myself against the harsh realities of my life. In a strange way, I was soothed.

The worst that could happen had already happened. There was nothing that could harm me anymore. The suicidal thoughts seemed like a bad nightmare now.

The doctors came on their regular rounds each morning and evening. In the morning it was the junior doctors who came. I did not talk to any of them. When they came in, I just chose to look out of the window and be silent. I did not want to talk to them or answer any questions they asked. In the evenings it was the senior doctors who came. I looked forward to these visits as Dr. Madhusudan would come each evening

Dr. Madhusudan was not only kind and understanding but intuitive too. It was almost as if he could read my mind and he knew exactly what to say to calm me down. They were mostly reassuring words of hope and inspiration. I think I owed my second shot at life, entirely to this man. He kept me alive many times over. He talked to me like I mattered. He truly cared and that made all the difference. It is indeed amazing how words and kindness have the power to heal, perhaps much more than medicines. Dr. Madhusudan had stopped all the medication which the two doctors had prescribed earlier. Instead, he put me on just a single medicine. He explained to me that it was Lithium and essential at this point that I take this tablet twice a day without fail, as it was a lifesaver for those who are bipolar. He assured me that he would take it off as soon as he felt I could cope without it. He emphasised that there was no option for me but to take it and he would gradually reduce the dosage. He told me that this was the only medicine I needed. The earlier two doctors had been treating me for severe clinical depression, but what I had was far graver. He was not only supportive but very confident that I would get better very soon. More than anything else, it was his unwavering faith in me that gave me courage.

I now had all the time in the world, to reflect on the things that I had done which had made me end up here. Dr. Madhusudan kept reassuring me that it was not ‘my fault’ or ‘my mistake’. He said that just as people sometimes have no control over physical ailments, they have no control over mental illness. He said that it was the stigma attached to anything to do with mental health that had made him want to be a doctor.

He would always leave my room for the end, when he came on his rounds. I realised this was a pattern on the second day itself. After the preliminary talk enquiring about how I was, was over, he would dismiss the nurses and junior doctors who accompanied him. He would then ask if I minded that we have a chat. I did not mind at all. It was a welcome distraction in a room where there was nothing to do anyway. We were developing a bond which extended beyond the usual one between the doctor and the patient. I did not care. It was the last straw of hope that he was offering and I was clutching it as tightly as I could.

During one of these chats he opened up and his story shared with me which left a deep impact on me.

“Ankita, you must be thinking why this doctor takes so much interest in you, is it not?” he asked, one evening.

“Well, not really doctor. I have nothing to do here anyway. But thank you for your time, I am grateful.”

“See Ankita, I come from a small village in Kerala. I think you were in Kerala earlier, isn't it?”

“Yes, I studied there for my graduation, doctor.”

“So you know how society is there and how much family name matters in a place like that. It is sometimes all that they have got,” he said with a faraway look in his eyes.

I nodded. I knew exactly what he was talking about.

“I grew up in Kerala and many years back I had an elder sister. She was older to me by nearly fourteen years. When she was about 22, she committed suicide by jumping into the well which was in our backyard. On the face of it, she was well adjusted and happy. Ye t there must have been things inside her mind which troubled her. Her death devastated my parents and left us in a stage of shock for the rest of our lives. We had no answers. She was a very bright student and not involved with any guy romantically as that is usually a leading cause of suicide, especially in people in that age group. Her death left a void in me which drove me to study psychiatry and I have made it my life's mission to help people who attempt suicide. Life is a gift, Ankita. We should not throw it away. You have no right to kill others. Then how can you have a right to kill yourself?” he said, his voice taking on a gentler tone.

I did not know what to say.

“I'm sorry to hear that doctor,” I said finally.

“Oh no, no. Please don't be. It has only made me stronger and today I am a leading doctor. I have made my life. I want you to think about yours. Nothing is lost just because you dropped out of MBA. It is not the be-all and end-all of life. You can still do other things in life, Ankita” he said.

That was the first time such an option had struck me. Till now, my parents had pinned their hopes on my going back to complete my course. I knew that I did not want to go back. The question of alternatives had not even occurred to me since I had been so disturbed. Now Dr. Madhusudan had given me something to think about. It was a seed that he had sown and it had taken firm root. For the first time in many months, I thought about the future and what other things I could do if I did not complete my MBA. It was the first time in months that a faint fluttering of hope had begun stirring in me. It was a small ray of sunlight which was peeping in enticingly through a slight crack in the door which had caught me in its tight grip. I was ready to move towards it.

When he came the next day I decided to open up and speak and give voice to my deepest fears.

“Doctor, I have been thinking about what you said,” I began.

He nodded encouragingly.

“The thing is I seem to have lost my ability to read and comprehend. I do want to study. In fact I so much want to study. But nothing I read is able to stay in my mind. Nothing makes sense anymore doctor. It frightens me when I try to open a book and read. Here, I feel safe. I am content. I am very afraid about what will happen when I get discharged,” I said.

“Ankita, you will not be sent to your house directly. You have just taken the first step now. You have just survived one of the most terrifying mental ordeals a human being can face. You are still recouping. At the end of the week, you will be shifted into the Occupational Therapy wing. We have a huge wing which is at the other end of the campus. It is best you be there for at least a month. We will put you on a program that will truly help you and trust me, all this will just seem like a bad dream very soon,” He said reassuringly.

“Will you be coming on the rounds there, doctor?” I asked him. That was the only concern which I had at that point of time. Doctor Madhusudan was my lifeline and I did not want to stop seeing him.

“A ctually different doctors are in charge there. I look after this ward,”

My heart sank hearing those words. I could not imagine getting through the day without speaking to him. I think he sensed it too.

“But I will surely be visiting you very regularly after my rounds here,” he said.

My face lit up with a smile. It was the first time in months that I had smiled.

By the end of that week, they shifted me to the other side of the campus which had the Occupational therapy wing, popularly called the O.T wing.

O.T wing seemed like a different world altogether. It did not have the feel of a hospital in the least bit. In fact one could not even see the Hospital building from this wing as the campus was spread over more than 80 acres of land and the O.T wing was far removed from the main hospital. It was a huge building with colonial architecture, much like a holiday home or a resort. It was spread out on a single floor. It had beautiful gardens and well manicured lawns in the front. There were marigolds, azaleas, lilies and many other colourful flowers blooming in the flower beds and patches. It had a cheery feel, completely different from the hospital and I was very surprised when I first saw it. I was shown to my room, which had two single beds, a desk, a chair and even a mirror in the bathroom. There was stationery on the table, two pens and pencils. There was a pretty tiny porcelain flower vase on the table with two yellow flowers whose names I did not know in it. They brightened up the place and added a nice warm touch. There was also a chart on the table which had a printed ‘routine schedule’ which had been planned for me. It read as follows:

Name: Ankita Sharma

Doctor: Madhusudan Jairam

Routine:

6.30 A.M.     :  Wake up time, brushing teeth, personal grooming

7.30 A.M.     :  Morning walk

8.30 A.M.     :  Breakfast

10:00-11:00 A.M.   :  Doctors rounds. You are requested to be in your room at this time.

11.00- 12.30 P.M.   :  Recreational Hall

12.30-2.30 P.M.   :  Lunch time

2.30-4.30 P.M.   :  Leisure. You can utilise this time to do whatever you want to

4.30-6.30 P .M   :  Gardening or outdoor Sports

6.30-7.30 P.M.   :  Psychotherapy

7.30-8.30 P.M.   :  Reading, recreation, rest, yoga

8.30-9.45 P.M.   :  Dinner

10.30 P.M.      :  Bed time

I was surprised to see such a well-planned routine. After weeks of having nothing to do, this was a kind of jolt to me, but it did not disturb me or make me feel agitated. In fact, I was happy to have something to do finally. Something, where I did not have to think about how to fill my empty hours and the emptiness in my life.

I was worried only about one thing. I did not want my parents to visit me. I did not feel like seeing them yet. I felt that the negativity and all the unstated and dormant hopes about completing my MBA would come back with them, if they came to see me. When the attendant showed me to my room, my worry was laid to rest as he confirmed this, “Madam, have you requested no visitors to be allowed?” he asked.

I nodded.

Then I had to sign a form which declared that I did not want any visitors at this point in time. I signed it willingly and hoped that my parents would not be hurt and would understand.