Last Sunday, Brother reported a strange creature in his sock drawer. I went to investigate and found what looked like an oversized hoona (gecko) lying amidst the shredded remnants of half a dozen socks and what was once a rather dashing blue tie.
Yup, you guessed it. One tiny baby squirrel (even smaller than Chuti when I found him) that probably got the shock of his short life when faced with my searching fingers. I just sat down and groaned "not again...". The thought of going through that saga once more, only to have another innocent die in my hands was not a bright one.
Since neither of us actually touched it, and therefore hopefully not transferred our scent, we kept the doors, windows and the cupboard open hoping that mummy-squirrel would show up. The little fellow kept squeaking hungrily the whole day and it was all I could do to harden my heart and not give a few drops of milk. Happily around 4.00 pm darling noticed what looked like a streak of brown furry lightning scampering up the stairs, which reappeared shortly afterwards as the mum, grasping the baby by the scruff of his neck. Much relieved, we promptly closed all portals... and cleaned out the sock drawer. :)
Only one question remains... why reproducing rodents find Brother's room so attractive...
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Friday, April 4, 2008
Chuti.... my first pet... and only
I guess many of you know about the life and death of this cute little critter. I still can't help feeling guilty that he died... even though numerous people have told me that baby squirrels are notoriously difficult to raise. Darling points out that if I hadn't adopted him, no one would have even known it existed until Brother started wondering why his room was more odiferous than usual.
I always used gloves to handle him... forgive me, oh, ye animal lovers. I am merely an animal liker and anyway, my precautions were justified when the little blighter pee-ed on my hand. He was the most adorable creature and always running around after me, squeaking his opinion on the little obstacle courses I'd place for him on the floor so that he could learn to climb. Field visits to the garden meant scaling mango trees and he had just about learnt to jump from one branch to another the weekend before he fell ill.
He'd keep me company when I'd have trouble staying awake, waiting for Darling to come home. When his box was open, he'd stand on hind legs and poke his head out to inspect all four sides before deciding to come out. When he'd spot me, he'd be on his hind legs again, fore-paws held out, begging to be taken into my hands. Maybe this is a common thing to people who have had pets... but it seemed wonderfully loving to me.
Funnily enough, he never accepted anything but milk. I tried banana mush, but it was disdainfully rejected. Ditto for bread and cream crackers. When the bread was soaked in milk, he just sucked up the milk and squeaked hungrily for more. Whenever I'd murmur "Chuti-Chuti" he'd always wake up and scramble around his box, eagerly anticipating the feed...never drinking more than 3/4 tblsp... maybe that was all his little belly could hold.
Even when he was sick, he managed to hold up his head and look interested when the milk came. Sigh... and he choked on it... died with milk flooding his lungs. I guess I just pushed the plunger of the feeding tube too fast. :(
I really have to thank Aunty Chandrani who looked after him when I was at work, setting the alarm so that she could feed him on time... even during the busy hours in the lab. Also Dr. Tharanga and Dr. Mangala who looked at him and recommended treatment, Pets V Care for advising me over the phone (one the day I found him) on how to feed baby squirrels, and for treating him when he fell ill and Dr. Kodikara (2-853087) for trying so hard to save him that last day. (Yup, Chuti was shown to 4 vets... I was so worried). Im really grateful to Al Juhara for having the numbers of the vet surgeons on her blog... that helped me when I was desparate.
I guess this is a final farewell to Chuti. He's buried under a tree near our front gate. I wanted to do something like give away some packets of rice 7 days later... but things didn't workout. I know people will call me silly, but I do transfer merit to him when possible. Afterall, it's because of the lack of it that he was born an animal and died young and in pain.
Thnaks all, for your comforting comments and apologies for the long and tragedy queen type posts of late.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
The lowest ebb
I know a young lady, K, who works as a secretary in a government institution. She's charming and intelligent and never failed to help me on the occasions I toddled over to her office to get something done.
Her cheerful manner masked many problems at home. The rising cost of living was taking its toll on her family, just like millions of others in the country. The biggest problem, however, was the inability to conceive, even after 5 years of marriage. They had gone down the usual paths, timing the cycle, ovarian stimulation, IVF. The tension was driving a wedge between K and her husband. Then, when they had almost given up hope, the pregnancy test came up positive. Her quiet glow of happiness was beautiful to behold. Parents, in-laws and relatives fussed over her, her husband became the doting lover of years gone by and life was good.
A couple of months later, her husband P wasn't feeling well. Their little world came crashing down around them... at barely 40 years, he was diagnosed with rectal cancer. The malignancy had already invaded the surrounding tissues and his liver was dotted with secondary deposits. Surgery was performed as soon as possible, leaving P with a permanent colostomy. K held him close and comforted him through all the pain and distress of surgery, chemo and radiotherapy.
A few weeks went by and suddenly K felt a sharp pain deep inside her. To her horror, her water bag broke shortly afterwards and life blood started to drain out from their precious baby. She was rushed to hospital and with the medication, rest and perhaps the prayers of her loved ones, the miscarriage was averted.
Since then she has been lying on a bed in a gynae ward... doctors had warned against any unnecessary activity or mental stress. Just relax and take it easy, they told her. Her friends and relatives visited daily. Little gifts were always near her bedside. Bottles of Horlicks. A fluffy new towel. A pink bed-jacket trimmed with dainty ribbons. Her mother kept a watchful eye on her, seeing to her every need.
Aunty (K's mum) wasn't too well herself. Poorly controlled diabetes topped the list. Maybe she didn't have the time or energy to care for herself. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was just meant to be. Aunty woke up one day and found that she could only mumble. She could barely lift herself off the bed and her limbs on one side felt useless... she had suffered a stroke. Another admission, this time to the stroke unit.
P was meanwhile in and out of hospitals. Maharagama, NHSL and back. He was stick thin and getting weaker by the day. He worried about his unborn child, about K, her mum and their deteriorating finances. Worsening bouts of pain would rack his body, seemingly unaffected by morphine. When I saw him 2 days ago he was lying crumpled on a bed, his entire body twitching due to low serum calcium (tetany). He stared dimly at me with sunken eyes. I spoke his name, but not an eyelid flickered in response.
P died early this morning.
K, devastated by grief insisted on going home. I cannot even begin to imagine the pain and sadness she is experiencing. I continue to pray for her unborn child. I dread meeting her at the funeral tomorrow... my own inadequacy to comfort a sorrowing fellow human being shames me.
Bad things all too often happen to good people.
Why?
Her cheerful manner masked many problems at home. The rising cost of living was taking its toll on her family, just like millions of others in the country. The biggest problem, however, was the inability to conceive, even after 5 years of marriage. They had gone down the usual paths, timing the cycle, ovarian stimulation, IVF. The tension was driving a wedge between K and her husband. Then, when they had almost given up hope, the pregnancy test came up positive. Her quiet glow of happiness was beautiful to behold. Parents, in-laws and relatives fussed over her, her husband became the doting lover of years gone by and life was good.
A couple of months later, her husband P wasn't feeling well. Their little world came crashing down around them... at barely 40 years, he was diagnosed with rectal cancer. The malignancy had already invaded the surrounding tissues and his liver was dotted with secondary deposits. Surgery was performed as soon as possible, leaving P with a permanent colostomy. K held him close and comforted him through all the pain and distress of surgery, chemo and radiotherapy.
A few weeks went by and suddenly K felt a sharp pain deep inside her. To her horror, her water bag broke shortly afterwards and life blood started to drain out from their precious baby. She was rushed to hospital and with the medication, rest and perhaps the prayers of her loved ones, the miscarriage was averted.
Since then she has been lying on a bed in a gynae ward... doctors had warned against any unnecessary activity or mental stress. Just relax and take it easy, they told her. Her friends and relatives visited daily. Little gifts were always near her bedside. Bottles of Horlicks. A fluffy new towel. A pink bed-jacket trimmed with dainty ribbons. Her mother kept a watchful eye on her, seeing to her every need.
Aunty (K's mum) wasn't too well herself. Poorly controlled diabetes topped the list. Maybe she didn't have the time or energy to care for herself. Maybe it was the stress. Maybe it was just meant to be. Aunty woke up one day and found that she could only mumble. She could barely lift herself off the bed and her limbs on one side felt useless... she had suffered a stroke. Another admission, this time to the stroke unit.
P was meanwhile in and out of hospitals. Maharagama, NHSL and back. He was stick thin and getting weaker by the day. He worried about his unborn child, about K, her mum and their deteriorating finances. Worsening bouts of pain would rack his body, seemingly unaffected by morphine. When I saw him 2 days ago he was lying crumpled on a bed, his entire body twitching due to low serum calcium (tetany). He stared dimly at me with sunken eyes. I spoke his name, but not an eyelid flickered in response.
P died early this morning.
K, devastated by grief insisted on going home. I cannot even begin to imagine the pain and sadness she is experiencing. I continue to pray for her unborn child. I dread meeting her at the funeral tomorrow... my own inadequacy to comfort a sorrowing fellow human being shames me.
Bad things all too often happen to good people.
Why?
Monday, March 31, 2008
Terrible weeks... one truly terrible month
Hello world...
Apologies for the long silence over here at Angel's pad. As the title hints (ahem) the past few weeks have been one big suckfest. And I can't even blog about most of the things that happened. Sigh. I warn my gentle readers... this is NOT going to be a very happy post...
At least today I came home at a decent hour after submitting the newsletter (1 week late - what's the point of a March newsletter that comes out in mid-April?) but thankfully didn't have to take any more flak than was my due. Tomorrow may be another story as I'm having a lecture in the morning (eeek, have prepared nothing!) and then MedEx duty... with an estimated crowd of close to 20,000! Feet, please forgive me... pedicure and foot massage, soon... I promise!
Last week is hazy... what happened? I remember being yelled at. Oh yeah, I've f**ked up big time and lost a load of invoices from our last workshop. Worth about 15,000/- .... which I will probably have to fork out of my own (meagre) pocket. Last week was spent running around like my tail was on fire going damn! damn!! damn!!! while I went through every single bloody file in the office... TWICE!!! The annoying thing is that I remember thinking, "Girl, if you lose this, you're in deep shit" after I had pasted, labled and stamped the invoices with the Director's seal. So anyway, I gathered up my courage and told the big guy... and his response was more or less, Angel, it's your baby... deal with it" Sigh... If I find the congenitally syphylitic cretin who stole my file I swear I'll chop him up into little pieces and feed him to the snakes in the herpetarium.
The week before that was slightly better with only the SLMA sessions on the calendar. Of course these HAD to be scheduled for the 20th, 21st and 22nd... the LONG WEEKEND! AAArrrrrghh! For once, Darling was off-work on a public holiday but I had to be stuck at frickkin' sessions. In saree. Dealing with irate (and scary) judges, annoyed participants and a hotel management that charged the earth for a couple of photocopies. The food sucked too... and since I repeatedly lost the tiny little chitty with "tea" and an ugly picture of a teacup on it, I had to go without the said tea several times, in spite of the large red tag saying "staff" that was around my neck like a noose.
The worst part was that I missed almost all the sessions I wanted to attend, including the ones on Parkinson's disease, Wilson disease and a symposium on patient safety. This was because some judging session or the other was ongoing and the powers that be wanted the marks entered, tables added up and classified immediately! Unlike Darwin I find powerpoints on topics with long names quite interesting... and these were some top notch international researchers and clinicians. Sigh...
The week before that, my pet died. My first and only pet, unless you count the 2 goldfish I briefly owned when I was 8. Chuti was an abandoned baby squirrel that I rescued and fed on milk for 6 weeks. The fellow was on the cold hard tiles of Brother's room and was found by self while sweeping... and immediately tipped into a shoebox when discovered to be alive. I didn't realise how attached I was to him... feeding him with carefully prepared milk, first thing in the morning... every two hours... last thing at night. He'd run around the box, squeaking with joy when I brought the milk and would follow me in little leaps and bounds around the room or in the garden. The horrible thing is that I think I killed him. He was off his food for a couple of days so I used the feeding tube given by the vet to alternatively give him saline, dextrose and milk. I think the milk went in too fast, because he asphyxiated... he gasped for breath on my palm while we rushed him to the vet and then writhed in terrible pain and died. I've watched people gasp like that... I've seen babies with birth asphyxia... but at least then I could do something other than watch helplessly while waves of guilt crashed over me. Chuti deserves a post of his own... so now you know what the next one will be.
The same week was the quality asurance programme in our faculty. This is a process that takes place once a year in every medical faculty in SL to ensure the curriculum is upto par. Reviewers from the UGC and other faculties spend about a week going through papers and books and files and getting all worked up if something was missing. I was somehow convinced to be a "coordinator" and I had to take an incredible amount of flak for things I wasn't responsible for. I had to dive into mountains of never-before-seen files and come up with specific documents, I had to call up departments for lists of this and that, I'd get defensive when things were criticized, then criticized for getting defensive. There were others who ran around with me... but I for my sins, was the one to get yelled at. Honestly, those reviewers were really rude sometimes, though honey-sweet when the senior staff were around. I have to totally thank my workmate M for covering for me when I had to go off taking Chuti to the vet. But they somehow found about him and made fun of that too... the sickos.
This is just a taste of what the past few days/weeks have been like. The days were occasionally punctuated by visits to blogosphere. I find Half-Doc, my articulate colleague has been compelled to delete his blog for merely stating his thoughts about a drunken party. E-mail has piled up since the connection is mind numbingly slow at office. I suspect it's because some nerds at the CAL lab are downloading flicks.
Anyway I feel too drained to type anymore. Adios, amigos. To Dinesh, Justin, Azrael, Priyanga and the many others who expressed help and support to Samitha, I profusely apologise for the delay in communication and will be in touch as soon as possible.
Apologies for the long silence over here at Angel's pad. As the title hints (ahem) the past few weeks have been one big suckfest. And I can't even blog about most of the things that happened. Sigh. I warn my gentle readers... this is NOT going to be a very happy post...
At least today I came home at a decent hour after submitting the newsletter (1 week late - what's the point of a March newsletter that comes out in mid-April?) but thankfully didn't have to take any more flak than was my due. Tomorrow may be another story as I'm having a lecture in the morning (eeek, have prepared nothing!) and then MedEx duty... with an estimated crowd of close to 20,000! Feet, please forgive me... pedicure and foot massage, soon... I promise!
Last week is hazy... what happened? I remember being yelled at. Oh yeah, I've f**ked up big time and lost a load of invoices from our last workshop. Worth about 15,000/- .... which I will probably have to fork out of my own (meagre) pocket. Last week was spent running around like my tail was on fire going damn! damn!! damn!!! while I went through every single bloody file in the office... TWICE!!! The annoying thing is that I remember thinking, "Girl, if you lose this, you're in deep shit" after I had pasted, labled and stamped the invoices with the Director's seal. So anyway, I gathered up my courage and told the big guy... and his response was more or less, Angel, it's your baby... deal with it" Sigh... If I find the congenitally syphylitic cretin who stole my file I swear I'll chop him up into little pieces and feed him to the snakes in the herpetarium.
The week before that was slightly better with only the SLMA sessions on the calendar. Of course these HAD to be scheduled for the 20th, 21st and 22nd... the LONG WEEKEND! AAArrrrrghh! For once, Darling was off-work on a public holiday but I had to be stuck at frickkin' sessions. In saree. Dealing with irate (and scary) judges, annoyed participants and a hotel management that charged the earth for a couple of photocopies. The food sucked too... and since I repeatedly lost the tiny little chitty with "tea" and an ugly picture of a teacup on it, I had to go without the said tea several times, in spite of the large red tag saying "staff" that was around my neck like a noose.
The worst part was that I missed almost all the sessions I wanted to attend, including the ones on Parkinson's disease, Wilson disease and a symposium on patient safety. This was because some judging session or the other was ongoing and the powers that be wanted the marks entered, tables added up and classified immediately! Unlike Darwin I find powerpoints on topics with long names quite interesting... and these were some top notch international researchers and clinicians. Sigh...
The week before that, my pet died. My first and only pet, unless you count the 2 goldfish I briefly owned when I was 8. Chuti was an abandoned baby squirrel that I rescued and fed on milk for 6 weeks. The fellow was on the cold hard tiles of Brother's room and was found by self while sweeping... and immediately tipped into a shoebox when discovered to be alive. I didn't realise how attached I was to him... feeding him with carefully prepared milk, first thing in the morning... every two hours... last thing at night. He'd run around the box, squeaking with joy when I brought the milk and would follow me in little leaps and bounds around the room or in the garden. The horrible thing is that I think I killed him. He was off his food for a couple of days so I used the feeding tube given by the vet to alternatively give him saline, dextrose and milk. I think the milk went in too fast, because he asphyxiated... he gasped for breath on my palm while we rushed him to the vet and then writhed in terrible pain and died. I've watched people gasp like that... I've seen babies with birth asphyxia... but at least then I could do something other than watch helplessly while waves of guilt crashed over me. Chuti deserves a post of his own... so now you know what the next one will be.
The same week was the quality asurance programme in our faculty. This is a process that takes place once a year in every medical faculty in SL to ensure the curriculum is upto par. Reviewers from the UGC and other faculties spend about a week going through papers and books and files and getting all worked up if something was missing. I was somehow convinced to be a "coordinator" and I had to take an incredible amount of flak for things I wasn't responsible for. I had to dive into mountains of never-before-seen files and come up with specific documents, I had to call up departments for lists of this and that, I'd get defensive when things were criticized, then criticized for getting defensive. There were others who ran around with me... but I for my sins, was the one to get yelled at. Honestly, those reviewers were really rude sometimes, though honey-sweet when the senior staff were around. I have to totally thank my workmate M for covering for me when I had to go off taking Chuti to the vet. But they somehow found about him and made fun of that too... the sickos.
This is just a taste of what the past few days/weeks have been like. The days were occasionally punctuated by visits to blogosphere. I find Half-Doc, my articulate colleague has been compelled to delete his blog for merely stating his thoughts about a drunken party. E-mail has piled up since the connection is mind numbingly slow at office. I suspect it's because some nerds at the CAL lab are downloading flicks.
Anyway I feel too drained to type anymore. Adios, amigos. To Dinesh, Justin, Azrael, Priyanga and the many others who expressed help and support to Samitha, I profusely apologise for the delay in communication and will be in touch as soon as possible.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
An update : Samitha Samanmali
Samitha is now in a ward at the accident service of the NHSL. She lies on the bed, her lower body motionless, and gazes out of the window. Blue skies with fluffy clouds. Mara trees bedecked with red and yellow flowers. Crows wheeling across her field of vision.
Friends hover around her, trying to anticipate and meet every need. Major trauma, major surgery and major change of life... in the face of these, Samitha remains cheerful. Tutes are brought to her bedside and she courageously turns pages and refers notes, determined not to fall behind.
What now? The next step is a wheelchair. At present, Samitha can only be "propped up" i.e. kept semi recumbent with the aid of pillows. The injury is at the 5th thoracic spinal level, which means she has poor control over the muscles of her trunk (these are antigravity muscles that help us keep upright). Obviously, a generic wheelchair, purchased from Union Chemists for instance, will be useless. She needs a special, custom-made wheelchair that will help support her comfortably. An electric wheelchair will be ideal as she will then have a degree of independence. Overseas rehabilitation is needed next. There are a couple of wonderful units in Singapore and the UK that offer facilities far far beyond what is available in SL.
Many thanks to all who contributed and continue to contribute to her rehabilitation fund. As yet, only a fraction of the funds needed have been raised, but I feel fairly confident that we may be able to collect the required sum. Things are yet to be streamlined. Arrangements are being made to get her cause registered as a charity. Not only will that give an added incentive for the corporate sector to donate (tax relief!) it will also allow the funds to be handled in the best possible way.
Many friends and well wishers from abroad have contacted us. They're not financial giants... many are students who work part time to pay for their own university education. yet they all want to donate something and this is where we hit a snag. What's the best way. Wire transfer is horribly expensive and not practical for small sums. Cheques run the risk of processing problems when issued by a bank overseas. Someone suggested a demand draft from the bank, but I wonder if this requires a minimum sum. Another friend suggested a paypal account.
Dinesh has kindly offered to develop a website for her cause. Untill he mentioned it, I hadn't realised that there was no official information available online. Maybe the paypal account can be linked to this website. Does anyone know how that works?
Once more, thanks to all for your good wishes and contributions. Will continue with the updates.
Friends hover around her, trying to anticipate and meet every need. Major trauma, major surgery and major change of life... in the face of these, Samitha remains cheerful. Tutes are brought to her bedside and she courageously turns pages and refers notes, determined not to fall behind.
What now? The next step is a wheelchair. At present, Samitha can only be "propped up" i.e. kept semi recumbent with the aid of pillows. The injury is at the 5th thoracic spinal level, which means she has poor control over the muscles of her trunk (these are antigravity muscles that help us keep upright). Obviously, a generic wheelchair, purchased from Union Chemists for instance, will be useless. She needs a special, custom-made wheelchair that will help support her comfortably. An electric wheelchair will be ideal as she will then have a degree of independence. Overseas rehabilitation is needed next. There are a couple of wonderful units in Singapore and the UK that offer facilities far far beyond what is available in SL.
Many thanks to all who contributed and continue to contribute to her rehabilitation fund. As yet, only a fraction of the funds needed have been raised, but I feel fairly confident that we may be able to collect the required sum. Things are yet to be streamlined. Arrangements are being made to get her cause registered as a charity. Not only will that give an added incentive for the corporate sector to donate (tax relief!) it will also allow the funds to be handled in the best possible way.
Many friends and well wishers from abroad have contacted us. They're not financial giants... many are students who work part time to pay for their own university education. yet they all want to donate something and this is where we hit a snag. What's the best way. Wire transfer is horribly expensive and not practical for small sums. Cheques run the risk of processing problems when issued by a bank overseas. Someone suggested a demand draft from the bank, but I wonder if this requires a minimum sum. Another friend suggested a paypal account.
Dinesh has kindly offered to develop a website for her cause. Untill he mentioned it, I hadn't realised that there was no official information available online. Maybe the paypal account can be linked to this website. Does anyone know how that works?
Once more, thanks to all for your good wishes and contributions. Will continue with the updates.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Please help...
The mood is gloomy around campus these days. Samitha, a third year medical student was injured about ten days ago as she accompanied her batch on a site visit to the BMICH. This was in order to scope out the place for the up-coming (and now postponed) medical exhibition. The Deyata Kirula stalls were still there and a sudden downpour forced them to seek shelter under the sheds.
Horrifyingly, one of the sheds collapsed on a group of students... two managed to make it out... two, including Samitha were trapped beneath the rubble. The other student escaped with minor injuries, Samitha however was not so lucky. Another student described how a metal support pole hit her head, and as she fell, how another pole landed on her back... She sustained severe injuries, skull fractures, bleeding in her chest cavity (haemothorax) and tragically, a spinal cord injury at midchest level. X-rays and MRI scans showed shattered spinal vertebrae... a grim sign of what spinal surgery would later reveal.
Samitha underwent a 20 hour surgery last Tuesday, to stabilise the spinal column. Apparently, the surgeons had discovered that the spinal cord wasn't completely cut, as feared... but was however severely crushed. The implications? Well... the worst is that there is very little chance that Samitha will regain the ability to walk.
Right now, she's in the NSICU, battling the stress effects of her injury as well as the surgery. Batchmates and other friends are keeping vigil at the accident service, combing the internet, phoning contacts and trying to find out any possible treatment method that may offer some hope. There is talk of stem cell therapy, that maybe they may differentiate into nervecells and bridge the gap. There are other treatments, mostly experimental that slow the rate of fibrous tissue formation, leaving room for whatever nerves that have survived to recover.
None of these are available in Sri Lanka. Few have shown scientifically sound, proven results... but any glimmer of hope is worth striving for. Unless a miracle happens (and believe me, there are hundreds of us in temples and churches holding bodhi pooja and other religeous services, silently offering up prayers to whatever diety we believe in that such a miracle will happen) she will need complete and long term support, physically, psychologically and socially... with proper rehabilitation to help her adjust to the consequences of her injury.
Money is scarce. Her father unfortunately passed away when she was young and her mother too is ill and has just had major surgery. Her sister, a teacher, has been supporting the family. The estimated cost for Samitha's treatment and rehabilitation is between 10 - 15 million rupees. :(
I don't know Samitha very well. I've seen her in campus, talking to friends, clutching books while running to one lecture or the other... full of hopes and dreams. Her friends describe her as being fun loving and hard working. that she faced the many hardships life threw at her with courage and determination. After days of tears, she seems to have found her inner strength again.... as she told a friend, "I am ready to face anything". She smiles up at those who visit her... and lives in hope that she will have a chance to regain at least part of her former independence.
The Sunday Times ran an article about her yesterday. More details can be provided on request. If you, or anyone you know would like to help, please call Aravinda Kamaladasa on 0773-017183 or contribute to the student rehabilitation fund started by the faculty.
Thank you.
Horrifyingly, one of the sheds collapsed on a group of students... two managed to make it out... two, including Samitha were trapped beneath the rubble. The other student escaped with minor injuries, Samitha however was not so lucky. Another student described how a metal support pole hit her head, and as she fell, how another pole landed on her back... She sustained severe injuries, skull fractures, bleeding in her chest cavity (haemothorax) and tragically, a spinal cord injury at midchest level. X-rays and MRI scans showed shattered spinal vertebrae... a grim sign of what spinal surgery would later reveal.
Samitha underwent a 20 hour surgery last Tuesday, to stabilise the spinal column. Apparently, the surgeons had discovered that the spinal cord wasn't completely cut, as feared... but was however severely crushed. The implications? Well... the worst is that there is very little chance that Samitha will regain the ability to walk.
Right now, she's in the NSICU, battling the stress effects of her injury as well as the surgery. Batchmates and other friends are keeping vigil at the accident service, combing the internet, phoning contacts and trying to find out any possible treatment method that may offer some hope. There is talk of stem cell therapy, that maybe they may differentiate into nervecells and bridge the gap. There are other treatments, mostly experimental that slow the rate of fibrous tissue formation, leaving room for whatever nerves that have survived to recover.
None of these are available in Sri Lanka. Few have shown scientifically sound, proven results... but any glimmer of hope is worth striving for. Unless a miracle happens (and believe me, there are hundreds of us in temples and churches holding bodhi pooja and other religeous services, silently offering up prayers to whatever diety we believe in that such a miracle will happen) she will need complete and long term support, physically, psychologically and socially... with proper rehabilitation to help her adjust to the consequences of her injury.
Money is scarce. Her father unfortunately passed away when she was young and her mother too is ill and has just had major surgery. Her sister, a teacher, has been supporting the family. The estimated cost for Samitha's treatment and rehabilitation is between 10 - 15 million rupees. :(
I don't know Samitha very well. I've seen her in campus, talking to friends, clutching books while running to one lecture or the other... full of hopes and dreams. Her friends describe her as being fun loving and hard working. that she faced the many hardships life threw at her with courage and determination. After days of tears, she seems to have found her inner strength again.... as she told a friend, "I am ready to face anything". She smiles up at those who visit her... and lives in hope that she will have a chance to regain at least part of her former independence.
The Sunday Times ran an article about her yesterday. More details can be provided on request. If you, or anyone you know would like to help, please call Aravinda Kamaladasa on 0773-017183 or contribute to the student rehabilitation fund started by the faculty.
Thank you.
Thursday, February 14, 2008
In sickness and in health...
Darling was in hospital last week, and with pneumonia, no less. last wednesday, he stayed at home because he had "body aches" and only mumbled when I called from work. When I did get home, he was huddleed up in bed, burning to touch... thermometer was whipped out and showed a temperature of 103C!! Promptly checked pulse (126/min), BP (on the low side) and lungs (noisy) and then called the Asiri mobile to do some blood tests and an ECG (? myocarditis). Darling mumbles that he has coughed up blood stained phlegm twice that day. Antibiotics are given, more paracetamol and eau-de-cologne poured on to try and bring the fever down. Darling continues to doze... I keep worrying.
Two hours later the white cell count is reported as 35,000 with a neutrophil leukocytosis. Trying very hard not to freak out, I cradle his head as Mums and Dads drive us to hospital. Darling doesn't remember much of that night as he'd conk out every few minutes. Admission goes smoothly... thankfully almost every doctor in the casualty ward has been taught by Mums... some are also seniors who were in campus with me. Antibiotics are pushed in and Darling goes to sleep, the fever broken.
I spent the entire night next to him, obsessively checking the pulse and peripheries. At 4 am a nurse takes pity on me and offers me a chair. I sit next to the bed and lean my head on the mattress... but can't sleep. Every few minutes my fingers seek the reassuring little pulse at his wrist.
3 days in hospital... thankfully people are very understanding at office. I run around from lab, to ward, to x-ray room and back. Quick dash to P&S to get Darling a sugar doughnut. Stopover at Dee's office nearby so I can unload my woes on her shoulder (thanks Dee!) I'm not allowed to spend the night in a male ward so I sleep in casualty room nearby... I can be at the ward in 5 minutes flat if needed.
Darling responds magnificiently to IV antibiotics. By day 2 he's rearing to go home and is soon discharged on strict bed-rest. He's restless just lying in bed, but understands it's for his own good. He devours mountains of mandarines brought by loved ones. I quietly slip in a protein supplement into his morning tea. He's totally well now, bright, chipper and eager to get back to work. I'm just happy.
For the first time, I trully celebrate valentine's day. I celebrate by holding my loved one close, with a whisper of thanks that I can do so.
Two hours later the white cell count is reported as 35,000 with a neutrophil leukocytosis. Trying very hard not to freak out, I cradle his head as Mums and Dads drive us to hospital. Darling doesn't remember much of that night as he'd conk out every few minutes. Admission goes smoothly... thankfully almost every doctor in the casualty ward has been taught by Mums... some are also seniors who were in campus with me. Antibiotics are pushed in and Darling goes to sleep, the fever broken.
I spent the entire night next to him, obsessively checking the pulse and peripheries. At 4 am a nurse takes pity on me and offers me a chair. I sit next to the bed and lean my head on the mattress... but can't sleep. Every few minutes my fingers seek the reassuring little pulse at his wrist.
3 days in hospital... thankfully people are very understanding at office. I run around from lab, to ward, to x-ray room and back. Quick dash to P&S to get Darling a sugar doughnut. Stopover at Dee's office nearby so I can unload my woes on her shoulder (thanks Dee!) I'm not allowed to spend the night in a male ward so I sleep in casualty room nearby... I can be at the ward in 5 minutes flat if needed.
Darling responds magnificiently to IV antibiotics. By day 2 he's rearing to go home and is soon discharged on strict bed-rest. He's restless just lying in bed, but understands it's for his own good. He devours mountains of mandarines brought by loved ones. I quietly slip in a protein supplement into his morning tea. He's totally well now, bright, chipper and eager to get back to work. I'm just happy.
For the first time, I trully celebrate valentine's day. I celebrate by holding my loved one close, with a whisper of thanks that I can do so.
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