Mixed birthday bunch

I turned 20-something yesterday (grin...) and just had to post some shots of the birthday flowers sent by Darling... aren't they wonderful? I'm a sucker for flowers... even while a part of me mutters in the background that flowers are a waste of good money since they're going to fade anyway. That, however hasn't stopped me from going ga-ga over pretty petals.

I just love what they've done with the colours, arranging them in blocks... Oooh, and the lillies... my favourite flowers!! The scent is really divine and can be sniffed on entering the house.

Sigh... me one very happy chick.

Nasi Goreng and chit chat

Today I had an irresistable urge for chinese food. Unresisting, yet strapped for cash, I went over to S.... which was the about the only place I could afford, and get to with a mere 5/- rupee bus fare. Chinese menus 1,2,3 & 4 were sold out, and feeling downcast (not to mention hungry) I went for the only option left - mediocre nasi goreng. The facts that I'm spicy food "intolerant" and not exactly a fan of meat went ignored.

So I sat there, amidst the Colombo office bustle during a weekday lunch hour, moodily shovelling in the unappealing food and staring at the other people chattering happily with friends/family. I felt very lonely, all alone at my glass-topped table.

Subsequent conversation with Darling went something like this.

Me : I had tasteless nasi goreng at S.... today
Darling : You went to S.... for lunch? Why do you voluntarily submit yourself to this kind of torture?
Me : (shrug)
Darling : Hang on, what happened to the (packed) lunch from home?
Me : I gave it away
Darling : To whom?
Me : (sheepishly) A guy on the street...
Darling : WHY???
Me : He looked hungry...
Darling : ......
Me : (helpfully) He offered to pay me 5 rupees for it
Darling : ......????
Me : I said "No, no" and offered him 20 rupees. He said "no, no" also. Then we both walked off
Darling :...........
Darling : I am speechless. See you in the evening.

Hmmm.... poor fellow. He's stuck with me for life.

Darling Achchi

My grandma died 2 weeks ago.


It took me 13 days to get my thoughts together so that I could reply to all the condolence e-mails/sms/facebook messages... stuff my friends resorted to because I wasn't too keen on answering the phone. 13 days to put into words some of the stuff that has been running around my head.

Achchi had a heart attack soon after the homecoming... for those who are interested it was a NSTEMI (i.e. not affecting all 3 layers of the heart) but quite extensive as all chest leads of the ECG showed changes and the troponin levels were sky high. She was admitted to the CCU, and responded well to the treatment... after more than a month of on-and-off chest pain, she was pain free and confortable. She smiled and talked of going home in couple of days and wanted her brown dress with the sparkly flowers to be brought. The next day she developed internal bleeding... I suspect that was a reaction to the loading doses of aspirin, clopidogrel and enoxaparin. Her Hb plummeted to 6.5g/dl and she needed 3 blood transfusions. Yet she was still smiling when we left...

When I went with breakfast the next morning, something wasn't right. Achchi would usually be on the lookout, eagerly waiting for soup/toast/oats. Instead, she seemed sleepy and just mumbled to leave her alone. Mums deftly checked everything... blood glucose: ok, BP: stable, oxygenation 84% but improved to 100% when a mask was put on, neurologically ok, no signs of a stroke. It was then that we noticed a temperature of a 102 degrees! Antibiotics were started, steroids and other supportive drugs. Tests revealed she had developed staphylococcal septicaemia... goodness knows from where, but probably when one of the dozens of cannulas were inserted.

So there she was in the CCU, unconcious, weathering one crisis after another. Cardiac arrest, hyperkalaemia, unrecordable BP, acute LVF, tachyarrhythmias with heart-rate over 160, impending renal failure etc. etc. on various occasions. But she survived them all. She got the best care from the team of doctors and nurses, she had consultants of every speciality looking after her... She was getting better...

Achchi opened her eyes after 10 days of unconciousness. A couple of days later, she recognised Mums. Those last two days, she was very comfortable... free of pain and fever, on an air mattress, breathing freely and with stable heart rate and BP. I was with her untill about an hour before she passed away... she looked beautiful and peaceful. A pirith cassette was playing, and Mums had placed the earphones on her. She opened her eyes and looked at me just before I left. I left the hospital full of hope... physiotherapy, speech therapy etc.

Close to 10 am, my grandma had just stopped breathing... and all resucitation efforts failed. Mums was with her till the last, and if anyone else had told me, I wouldn't have believd the end could come so suddenly. I can only comfort myself with the knowlege that it was her time to leave... if she had ayusha left... she would have survived with all that treatment and loving care. I was glad she had been comfortable, I believe she was concious enough to hear and focus on the pirith and hope she has been reborn in a good place.

My grandma was a wonderful person, kind, compassionate and loving. My grandfather survives her, and he is heartbroken at having lost his life-partner. They were married for 57 years... but had "an understanding" for a decade before they married. They raised 4 wonderful children (2 engineers, a doctor and a businessman) and had 9 loving grandchildren. Their home was a haven to dozens of nieces and nephews who would invade the premises during school holidays and leave stuffed and played out to their hearts content.

She braved hard times during WWII when my grandfather was abroad and she was not supported by her in-laws. Too proud to ask help from her family and unwilling to complain to her husband, she sold her jewellery, piece by piece in order to have food and shelter for her children. She never bore any ill-will and when her father-in-law contracted TB and was to be banished to Welisara, she had him brought to her home, in spite of having 4 small children there. She fed, washed, nursed and comforted him for many months untill he died.

She wasn't very educated as her father didn't believe girls should go to school beyond standard 5... but education was very important to her, and she rejoiced at every truimphant milestone reached by her kids and grandkids. She had travelled to many countries and really enjoyed life. Always well dressed, she would scope out the latest fashions at family weddings and tell me... "Duwa, so-and-so was wearing a beautiful saree blouse with /only one sleeve/no sleeves/corset fastening at the back etc.... you should get your blouses sewn that way, young girls should be fashionable..."

In the weeks preceeding my wedding, whenever the angina bothered her she said "may lamayage magulen passenam mata monawa vunath kammanne ne" (after this child's marriage, I do not care what happens to me). She pooh-poohed my Victorias Secret body scrub and recomended crushed mung beans mixed with saffron and sandlewood in order (as she said) to make my skin glow like gold. I remember how much she enjoyed herself at both the wedding and the homecoming... meeting with all her relatives and having a ball of a time. Recently while searching her cupboard for a fresh towel, I came across our cake-box, carefully wrapped up in a handkerchief and placed next to the Deva pictures in a corner of the shelf.

Achchi had told my mother that she had made a vow... that after my wedding and homecoming were over, that she would offer a hundred lotus blooms to the Kaluthara Bodhi. So we travelled to the Kaluthara on Saturday, to fulfill the vow on her behalf. I went on buying flowers from vendor after vendor, I'm not sure how many we offered for the pooja, but it was over a hundred. it was an offering of love and devotion... and helped drive home the fact that just as the flowers would fade, so too would we, each of us, experience decay and death.

My grandma was deeply religious, observing sil during all 4 poyas days during her youth, and later, whenever she got a chance. She trully practiced Buddhism, meditating often and above all, spreading loving kindness to every living being. I cannot remember a single instance where she has spoken ill about anyone... even if someone treated her horribly, she would always find an excuse and seek reconcilliation. She has helped build temples and meditation centres, planted holy Bodhi trees, taken part in umpteen katina poojas etc. etc. Her greatest delight and most cherished memory was of the time she was permitted (in her words - "in spite of being a mere woman") to carry a sacred casket containing holy relics (Dhathu Karanduwa) at the local temple.

Gandma was always a sucker for a sob story. Should anyone come to her with a tale of woe, she would give away the money in her purse, the rings off her fingers and the bangles off her hands. Many's the time my mother has gone in track of them, and redeemed them from whatever pawnshop they'd been hocked at. Achchi would lie right and left to save other people (especially domestic assistants... or her naughty grandkids) from blame. Whichever child's home she was staying at, should anything break or get torn or misplaced... Achchi would look suitable contrite and confess to the "crime", knowing fullwell that no one would have the heart to tell her off.

I loved her deeply... and still do. I miss seeing her happy face when I come home from work. I miss having her pottering around, checking on the meals being cooked and her comments (almost always positive) on what I'm wearing. I wish with all my heart that we had been able to somehow help her pull through. The chasm her death left behind continues to gape - black and empty.

I try to comfort myself... She had a good life for 84 years... loved by many. She was relatively healthy and hadn't been hospitalised for anything in over 10 years. She was happy and active and mobile untill the last few weeks... she had a peaceful death.

May she attain the supreme bliss of Nibbana

The wedding... the aftermath....

Yes people... I'm back, alive, kicking and thrilled to bits with the novelty of being a "missus". Back feeling mildly smug after a 2 week honeymoon. Back after a hair-raisingly stressful homecoming. Back to mundane work, flat heeled shoes and chipped nailpolish.

Thanks to all you well-wishers who read my posts and those who decided to comment here... to those creative ones who composed poetry (awww... I'm so touched) and those who followed up with phone calls (hey sisters...) and all the interested one who wanted to know more. To them, I dedicate this post... well it may be a series of posts, depending on how long I can type before running out of steam or what time hubby comes home (whichever comes first lol).

The wedding...

...was just dreamy. Even the pre-wedding jitters weren't too bad. Mums was mildly panicy because there was so much jewellery lying around at home (hidden in various odd places, wrapped in old handkerchiefs), but other than that, things were ok. My bridesmaids were a wealth of support, turning up the night before and helping me iron my saree (10pm), dry my hair (11pm), touch up my nails (11.21pm) wrap gifts to parents and write thank you notes(finished slightly past midninght). Not very good timing as had to be at bridal dressing place by 3.45 am.

Actually got to bridal dressing place at 4.30 pm. This was partly because of jitters and partly because we had to hunt for all the jewellery. Was bundled into my slip and blouse and the whole process began. I was crazy happy during the whole thing.... the attention I was getting had a lot to do with it... people were powdering my knuckles, Mums was giving me misty looks and bridesmaids kept shooting winks and thumbs ups...

So I floated out at 7 am... be-decked with Achchi's chunky gold necklace and be-veiled with yards and yards of tulle... crazy grin still on face, I made it to the hotel... to be greeted by Darling who had an identical soppy grin on his face... obviously, traditions of not seeing the bride before the wedding were smashed to smithereens. Photo's were taken, tilting head this way and that, looking up, looking down and mugging for the occasional tourist who had stopped to stare.

Of course things went wrong... but many disasters (actual/potential/mitigated) went totally unnoticed by me because others had done their best so that I wouldn't know of them. The flower people had got all creative and sprayed the snowy white flowers I ordered - a pale golden brown, in order to match the colour of the maids' sarees. Not a very smart thing to do, since this made them look all faded around the edges. Mums had very firmly taken the flower people to task and got them to trim the (sprayed) edges of every single flower! So when I walk into the hall, what crosses my mind is "oh what dainty lilies! I didn't know they came this small... how pretty and fairy like etc. etc." Obviously the wedding high... but I didn't find out the truth till last week.

The candle for the pahana was snitched by the ashtaka guy, who proceeded to light the lamps on the four sides of the poruwa with it, and then toss it aside. When we reached the pahana, there was much waiting and looking around and then finally we ended up lighting it straight from the match, with the matchbox cunningly hidden behind my bouquet and away from the cameras.

My flower girl (my sweet little niece, bless her cotton socks - although she refused to wear shoes and went barefoot on W-day) was I think having a bit of a sugar rush herself. It was fun seeing her run around enjoying herself after the photoshoot... less fun seeing 3 huge black splodges of grease on her skirt... just before we had to make the grand entrance. Several times during the whole table round thing I felt my head rudely jerked backwards... only to glance back and see the kid standing on my veil, grinning madly at me.

Well, to make a long story short... I totally, completely enjoyed my wedding. The flowers - especially my bouquet - were exquisite, the company was great, the food was marvelous plus we ended up getting 2 chocolate fountains for the price of one! (As a tribute to Mrs. G and her wonderful service, please check out Chocolate Joy at http://www.bridesofsrilanka.com/chocolatejoy.htm - it was awesome and had my friends and cousins all shook up!) The jazz band jazzed away, Darling made a wonderful speech where he called me lots of lovely things and during the going away handfulls of fragrant jasmine were thrown at us by the crowd (surprise arrangment courtsey of Darling... ain't he sweet?) I can honestly say it was the best wedding I'd ever been to... and the pictures say so too... I have that sappy grin on my face in every single one of them! Enjoy the pics people... and await more details later...


















Darling initially tried to put the ring on the wrong hand... after I hissed "the other hand, men" at him, he managed to get it right...


















Ah..... the transfer of ownership! Now all I need is a brand saying "property of Angel"!


















Our rings! Yay... we're married!


















Ooooh... the wedding cake... all 15lbs of it - ribbon cake with vanilla filling, covered with white fondant icing, courtesy of Fab.


















Home-coming cake! Finally people agreed that chocolate cake is a wonderful idea. Sigh... rich chocolate fudge cake with chocolate ganache icing...


















Home-coming hairdo! Was really impressed with it... the little curly bit you see there is my great grandmothers konda katta (hair comb)

So, I'm getting married...

In 10 days time...

Needless to say, I'm freaking out.....aaaaaarrrrrggghhh! But I'm also thrilled about the whole thing and shivery and excited and enjoying every scrap of attention coming my way! :)

Of course, things aren't going smoothly - homecoming jacket sewn the wrong way, flower girl's dress adorned with hideous silver and gold roses, pastry chefs in Colombo saying chocolate gateau for a wedding cake just not practical, grooms tie made of purple silk that looks positively gangrenous... ad infinitum. But as Darling points out, things rarely go smoothly, so the best thing to do is hang on tight and enjoy the ride...

This weekend is going to be hectic as that is when everything will actually have to be paid for... I won't deny that it'll be heart wrenching to fork out literally hundreds of thousands of rupees for a single 4 hour event. However, I will heave a sigh of relief because making the payment = final confirmation = things will get done... I hope!

So, Angel will be quieter than usual for a good three weeks. Bear with me gentle readers... I will be back soon with more stories for your reading pleasure!

The taste of futility

a.k.a. Why I don't like my job

Mrs. P walked in one busy Saturday casualty, smiling apologetically. "It's only my wheeze, doctor. I got nebulised at the OPD but they said to get admitted anyway." She was breathless and a brief listen at her chest showed basal crepitations - the signs of heart failure. She was made comfy in a bed close to the nursing station with the HO insisting on oxygen... the registrar okayed the drugs, added another and casualty went on... hectic as usual.

It was close to 2 a.m. when the nurse came and told me that her blood pressure was on the low side. A drip was started as well as another drug. I wasn't happy because we couldn't attach a cardiac monitor... there were 3 admissions with heart attacks and there simply wasn't a machine to spare.

So I kept an eye on her, going up to her every 10-15 minutes "how are you feeling Mrs. P?" - checking and recording her vitals. Her lungs were clearing and the BP started going towards normal. She was feeling better and talked briefly about her kids and why there was no one with her because someone had to be with them. Everytime I left her bedside she smiled and said "Thank you, doctor."

It was just past 3am when we had a new admission, an old lady literally vomiting buckets of blood. I had never seen haematemesis that bad. The BP apparatus was in my hand so it was just a matter of turning from Mrs. P to the next bed, checking vitals and asking the nurse to take blood for grouping and matching before sending saline in fast. The old lady's daughters were there, both attendants at the hospital and both screaming and wailing like banshees... they kept embracing their mother and I had to practically wrestle my way past them to adjust the drip. It took the HO telling them very firmly to be quiet and calm down before we could continue with taking a history, giving medication and writing out the forms for blood and plasma.

I remember glancing at Mrs. P at some point during the melee. She seemed comfortable and was breathing ok. It was about 15 minutes later that we got the old lady stabilised with a blood transfusion and things had quietened down somewhat.

I walked over the few steps to Mrs. P and just went cold. She was lying on her back, eyes open, pupils dilated. The oxygen mask had been torn off and was in her hand as if at some desperate attempt to breathe.

I barely checked her carotid pulse before launching into CPR, calling out to the HO and nurses. Tubes were put in and a cardiac monitor (unceremoniously removed from another patient who was "stable") attached - flat trace other than the spikes due to my cardiac massage. Adrenaline was pushed in, then other drugs, over and over, while I kept mumbling please, please, please hoping that any God, anywhere, would show some mercy. We tried for close to an hour until the HO gently told me what I knew all along... there's nothing more we can do, she was gone.

I closed her eyes, and listened one last time with the steth. The monitor was removed and re-attached on the first patient. Fighting tears, I wrote down the needful on the ticket.
No central pulse
No heartbeat, no respiration
Pupils fixed and dilated
Death confirmed at 4.20 a.m.

She was only 42 years old.

Brick-bats and Bouquets

Okay... the bouquet first, to (wait for it...) the wonderful customer service at the Ceylon Continental. Mums had gone there for a workshop and at lunch had been quite sad that all desserts had been made with eggs. After picking a few pieces of fruit off the top of a mousse she had noticed the chef hovering around and in her charming way requested that they please consider just one egg-free option for the next few days of the workshop.

No sooner had she returned to her seat than a marvelous concoction topped with whipped cream and a cherry was placed before her, compliments of the chef and certified egg-free. Mums was happily munching on the toothsome morsel when a dish of kiri-peni was whipped in front of her as well! Much laughter at this turning of tables from the rest of the crowd, who are usually used to flaunting their wide range of dessert choices in front of Mums... :)

Now Mums goes for these big do's at hotels (wedding/workshop/conferance) fairly often... and usually asks the chef/steward if there are any egg free desserts. The usual answer is a shrug and a polite "sorry madam". Was really pleased with the chef for being so nice to her and not forgetting to provide egg-free goodies for the rest of the workshop... loads of brownie points, dude, and well done Ceylon Continental!

The brick on the otherhand is thrown at a certain "superbrand" men's clothing boutique which for ethical and possible legal reasons shall remain un-named. Since Darling and the Brothers needed suits, there they went to choose fabric and give their measurements... I tagged along too. The first fishy thing they did was up the price the moment they realised it was for a wedding... the 6K tailoring charge became 10K. Then they said that only italian made fabric was available in the colour we wanted... fabric initially quoted at 4K per suit length became 4K per yard... and 3 1/2 yards needed for a suit.

After deciding to go ahead with it the three guys were hanging around the measurement counter for ages, occasionally chatting with the salesguy. I waited and waited and waited. Mearly an hour later, no measurements had been taken. The sales dude, who had been servile to the extreme while the manager was about, started dishing out some serious attitude when politely asked when they planned to take the measurements. I was irritated, the boys were irritated and finally we just walked out... it just wasn't worth the fuss and feathers. The irony of the "superbrand" books placed prominantly about the store did not escape me. So much for fancy titles!