I had a difficult day today in terms of health. I don’t speak about it much, but the morning was capable of putting me on a whiny “why me” cycle. I hate having family around on such days. Don’t get me wrong, they are an awesome support – but I feel they don’t deserve this helplessness. There is nothing more heart wrenching than seeing your child suffer and knowing that no doctor in the world can help her. Similarly, there is nothing more frustrating that hearing them wish there was a cure somewhere discovered by now.
Anyway, I have come to terms with this over the last year or so. I guess I am in the 7th cycle of grief when it comes to my health, “acceptance”. I have come to accept the ailment in my life, but not bow down. I didn’t choose it, it chose me – but how it affects me or my life, will not be decided by it, only I have that power in my life and I refuse to give that up.
This is what had kept me going all this while and those who know me, will vouch for the zeal and love that I have for life. Also, I am my father’s daughter, I don’t know how to live life any other way.
I was a difficult kid to keep pace with in terms of energy. I didn’t need much keeping up with studies and hence my parents always had to innovate newer methods of learning and keeping me entertained (lest, I stray – the typical Asian tiger parenting dilemma). Also, conventional methods of “I told you so” never worked with me and I was a hyper active kid, who took pride in her cuts, bruises, dog bites and scars.
The father related to me. I was brought up by a man who never shied away from telling us that he played with dolls as a kid and his dad indulged him. So growing up we never knew what “gender defined games” were. Sundays were our only days with him and we came to accept that. Looking back having a super ambitious and corporate styled father, made us but natural professional and to respect our work commitments. Sunday but was always ours and he devised learning and games in the most innovative way ever.
Car washing was the way we learnt about everything that Mcqueen now teaches young kids or where Thomas steps in – and boy was it fun! Then there were sports and I am a footballer’s daughter. Computation of time, calculation of run rates and keeping a tab of Duckworth Lewis method – these were our maths lessons, while my peers solved the “maths worksheet” – till date I calculate run rate more as mental maths exercise habit, almost involuntarily. Doll house games, board games of Scotland Yard and Cluedo or rain water experiments in monsoon through home made kits – he made Sundays so much fun.
Today, he did the same again. It was almost his way of wanting to take my mind off the excruciating pain. He knew how I have been yearning to do a mosaic painting and thus, out of the blue came home the mosaic cutting pliers and started our afternoon project.
Suddenly, it was all about measurements, the sound of cutting of tiles, pasting, edge polishing and talks that only made sense to us. Suddenly, the mood around the house changed and somewhere, Baba told the pain – not today, not when I am around can you mess with my little one…
Father’s, they were created for a reason – for daughters to be there in this world. Think about it – even Science agrees….