kalighat continues

Life is puttering along at Kalighat. Not much changes on a daily basis. Teresa and I feel like we've made headway in relationships with the massi's. When we first arrived they were short (in words and tone, they're still short in stature), curt and somewhat dismissive. I don't think we judged nor blamed them for this. I would be the same way, too. When you're doing a job day in and day out and these chipper, positive strangers cycle through the place daily with good intentions but no knowledge, I wouldn't invest much in them either. I already find myself doing that with volunteers. If they're there for a day or NBC two I almost can't be bothered to shepherd them. I do kindly (at least I try) tell them what to do, bunezxre it I often do so efficiently as opposed to softly through relationship. My extra justification for this is that I come from spending 3 hours of little people climbing over me.

Back to the massi's: I believe the length of our stay has benefitted us in building relationships and gaining respect from them. I also believe our sense of humour, competency, and our ability and willingness to do work has helped. We quickly picked up routine and weren't afraid to figure out how to solve problems. We both understand that our experience, and that of the massi's, would be better if we solved our own problems. When they told us to make the bed, and the sheets to use were laid on the bed, we asked them to show us where to find the sheets as well. When patients need a diaper or dress change or powder or a bib, we found out where to get these things. Like a good businessman, we eliminated the middle man.

We have fun interacting with the massi's. We have found ways to laugh despite a language barrier, however, one of the massi's, Margaret, speaks very good English and definitely helps out the situation. We had one conversation with four of them one afternoon where we talked about boyfriends and marriage and children. As usual when I visit other countries, they were floored that I didn't have a boyfriend or children. Then they found out my age and were downright astonished. What is surprising is that in this culture four children is considered a lot: most have 2. It is only surprising because of my ignorant assumptions on Indian culture, but this assumption is based on multiple and varying cultural interactions.

My height continues to be an advantage for small tasks. Keep in mind that when around the massi's Teresa at 5 foot 4 is considered tall. Almost on the daily I'm asked to do some task: reach for something, hang something etc...which is always met with a smile, a laugh and a "you big!"

The afternoon routine, our new norm, varies slightly from the morning. There is no laundry to do. We start by distributing medications, then we interact/exercise with patients and a mere hour and a half in, at 4:30, it is time for dinner. When it comes to medication distribution it seems that Teresa and I are often given the difficult patients: the ones who often refuse to take their medication. They choose to keep their mouth closed, fight it until it dissolves in their mouth or they'll spit them out. Recently they have sent my to Tara and tell me I need to be stern with her. It's often a battle but I always win. One day teresa and I were both given a dying, rigid lady. We had to pry her mouth open. When it comes to feeding, Teresa usually distributes and I always feed the same lady. There isn't anything different about her: she needs to be fed and I do it.

Teresa and I each have specific ladies we're drawn to. We both love Maya. When we started a month ago she had big bed sores on her lower back, hip, knee and her right heel had essentially disappeared because of bed sores/pressure ulcers. Her wounds are healing relatively nicely: some don't need to be treated anymore. This progress is redeeming, affirming and exciting. It is clear she had less pain. I opt to work with her in the afternoons. I help her work on her core balance, I do exercises with her arms and I make her lift her left leg and hold it (this is the side without the heel and hip sore). Sometimes she's super stubborn and won't do any of it, but if I get stern she usually responds. Other days she does it willingly and I get over the top excited: big smiles, hugs and high fives for days. 

Then there's the less exciting story of bed sore lady (we've been told her name multiple times but it just doesn't stick). She came in at the same time as Maya. Her wounds were bigger but they don't seem to be healing. Then we found out she was diabetic who, from what I understand with my questioning, doesn't get regular insulin. This essentially means her body doesn't have the tools to repair itself. She is often lethargic. Sometimes we get her to smile. She's always thirsty. She has multiple bed sores, the worst being on her lower back. I've written about it before but it is now bigger and deeper. It is almost the width of her back and is as deep as her spine. There is no tissue down to her spine. I see the bones of her spine. They need to keep digging out tissue because more keeps dying, hence the growing wound. Maya's body is repairing itself. This one, not so much. On Tuesday of this week I thought she was going to die for sure: she was weaker, is losing weight rapidly and was the most lethargic she'd been in a while. As of Friday afternoon, however, she had picked up a bit again. She's a living roller coaster. She's a trooper with strength greater and deeper then I can fathom and her tolerance for pain is admirable and she never complains. A local hero, I'd say. 

The diabetic lady with the foot that is continually disintegrating left the home one day to go back to her family. Comparatively, she is young. She was back the following afternoon, after one night away, because her two children did not welcome her back.

The colouring book lady has deteriorated in the last two weeks. When we first arrived she sat at the same seat every day and at 9:30 or so got her colouring book and began. She refused to colour on any page that had already been started and she always stayed within the lines. Now she spends all her time sleeping or out of it, in her bed. She's had an IV, ventilator and catheter at varying times. In my expert teacher opinion she has pneumonia: listening to her try to breath is a painful experience. Now her legs, and feet especially, are ballooning because of water retention. Her toes look double their regular size. Again in my expert teacher opinion, I think she's taken a turn for the worst. I can't envision her colouring in the lines on this side of heaven.

Similarly, but completely differently, Meena (fondly referred to by Teresa as Al Pacino, has taken a turn. Two weeks ago she was standing up at lunch, yelling and feistily taking food from her neighbors. Now she is tied to a plastic chair and is absent; her shell is there but that's where Al Pacino ends. She had been tied to a chair so much that she has developed open wounds on her side. With Meena, my expert teacher opinion tells me she had a stroke. Her left side is non-functioning. One day she was highly functioning and soon after she was tied to a chair with her vacant eyes falling over with the rest of her.

The rest of our people are kind of just rolling. Teresa often works with Shanti even in the afternoons. The physiotherapists think she can walk some day. In my expert teacher opinion I don't see it happening. Her ligaments and skin are so tight. If you spend quite a bit of time massaging it and warming it up, it can get just past 90 degrees. Hopefully people will consistently and persistently work with her.

Others continue to make us laugh. Tara, specifically, is currently hilarious. She's 50 or 60 or maybe 70 something. She had no teeth. She both howls and hollers at us. One day I was sitting with her on her bed and she pointed to other volunteers giving back massages to residents. Teresa was there and made sure I knew that's what Tara wanted, a back massage; Teresa really looks out for me. I motioned to Tara that I don't really do that, and chose to give her an example of my kind of back massage. I hit her (lightly) on the back. She howled! She got Teresa's attention and gave us a big smile and slapped me on my back. We laughed. She doesn't speak much but using strong non-verbal communication she got the attention of other volunteers and residents and, when people were looking, have me a good slap. Teresa and I, and many residents, find this hilarious. The massi's? Not so much. Tara knows to only do this to me and teresa, thankfully.

In general we continue to be involved in feeding, changing, dressing and exercising. I even dressed some wounds on my own. We build relationships with the sisters, massi's and residents. We have places.