My Mother's 2nd Life

It was April 2011, I was still an engineering grad. I lived in Indore, I still do, only now I work as well.  Didi called me one afternoon and said that our mom was hospitalized in Ranchi that morning only. What? When did she get sick? She was pretty good, some 100 hours ago. I was stunned. I cursed myself for not talking to mom, everyday. I thought, I was a bad son. I wanted to get to mom ASAP. But as you know, there is always a rush for tickets especially on the UP-Bihar-Jharkhand-West Bengal route.  I booked a flight to delhi and reached Ranchi from Delhi with Di, Jiju and their son. Although we rushed to reach to mom, we anticipated it as a usual dehydration thing and were pretty assured that Mummy will be home in a day or two. But the revelation was shocking. Only after we reached RIMS [Rajendra Institute of Medical Sciences], which is a renowned institution of India for medical sciences in Ranchi, we saw the real picture.  My mother was not good at all. She was thin, pale and somehow looked totally a different person, which I never saw. When I was in train, I was thinking of saying nice things to my mom, to make her feel good and make her laugh or smile. Laughter is still the best medicine.   But that thought was suppressed by the fact that my mom was in no state to speak or listen to anybody talking to her. She was being treated in a cottage, which RIMS provide to patients who are important enough on their list. My father managed to get a cottage and the treatment was like home there. Convenient. A night or two passed and things went from bad to worse. My mother was diagnosed and was advised treatment at the ICU only.
We transferred mom to the ICU one afternoon and that's when we realized that we are not at one of India's renowned medical institutions but just another govt. hospital.  The Intensive Care Unit was dirty, had an uncomfortable bed and had uncountable Rats running around all over the place. My father was unaware of all this circumstances when he alone took her to RIMS, he was in a panic situation and all he could think of is getting my mother treated as soon as possible.  The fact is that every patient in RIMS is another medical project for their students and they do not care, however they are being treated, all they do is observation and prepare a report out of it. We were in a catch-22 situation, my mother's condition was being worse every new day and we couldn't take the risk of making her travel, neither by air nor by rail not even road. And one morning, mommy couldn't even breathe properly, thats when we had to take a firm decision. We knew that firstly, she need to feel strong, then only we will be able to go to Delhi and have a better and specialized treatment. And the next two days were magical, my mother pushed hard to get up from that long slumber and looked somehow better than weeks that passed. She was determined to get her life back, so she injected confidence in us and said "yes, I can travel" [she started talking a little bit by then]. We took the most comfortable 1st AC in Rajdhani Express and admitted mommy to the "Max Super Speciality Hospital" in Saket, New Delhi within the 2-3 days.  In a week, my mom could ask for things by saying and not by gesturing. That was so comforting, listening to her. I missed those words for a good 2 to 3 weeks.  Although there used to be some complications every now and then, but the modern healthcare at Max Hospital had a positive atmosphere, which somehow inspired Mummy to get better every new day.
However, it still took 40 days to reach the day, when my mother could finally say goodbye to hospital. But honestly, this number could have been close to 300 days, had we treated her in Ranchi only. My mother came home [in delhi] in the first week of June and lived with Di and her family for the next 4 months. She started speaking well, after some weeks, she was able to walk without support and I almost had tears in my eyes, when one day in late 2011, I saw her cooking.  I felt like a parent, whose infant kid is growing everyday. I missed my mother, all those 7-8 months, the mother, who doesn't depend on us. But the mother who takes care of every little thing we need.  In the whole process, one thing changed for sure. My life. I am no longer an irresponsible youngest child of my parents, but a caring son. I call my parents almost every day now. 
This post was pending for a long time. It only came true, when Apollo Hospitals in association with IndiBlogger prompted us to write about our lives touched by Modern Healthcare. -Amritt Rukhaiyaar