A while back I was reading a collection of Saadat Hasan Manto’s short stories, when I came across the story ‘Khaled Miyan’; a tale of a woeful father (Mumtaz) always concerned about his infant’s health. The father is scared that the apple of his eyes won’t be able to live to see his first birthday. Somewhere along in the story, the child regretfully falls sick. The fear Mumtaz has of his child’s death is like a living beast that eats at him. He starts to fear that his drinking water to soothe his sandpapery throat would result in Khaled’s death, so he initially abstains from it. His mind starts to connect all his actions to his son’s potential death. When he is about to smoke a cigarette, a voice in his head forbids him from doing so or else his Khaled would die. He almost goes mad with the voices in his head dictating each move of his and connecting it all with Khaled’s death. He becomes so delirious and incapacitated that he leaves his wife and son unattended in the hospital amidst strangers and runs out to the fields trying to escape his fears and the voices in his head. In the end, Khaled succumbs to death and the story ends with Mumtaz asking him if he would take away his fears with him.
The fear, the anguish and the panic that Mumtaz feels when he thinks of his son’s death echoes in every hospital corridor where hordes of people beg to the mystical powers beyond their reach and use everything within their capabilities to save their loved one, to save them. Everyday.
Very recently I accompanied my father to the hospital for a couple of tests he had to get done. And the experience was surreal, numbing, educating and eye opening at the same time. The hospital is a humungous, intimidating beast; it’s the place where in the same moment someone rejoices for a life saved and some breaks apart for a life lost. It’s a place full of contradictions- it’s full of joy and hope and on the other hand it is void of human touch and warmth. It’s the place where life begins and more often than not, ends. It’s a giant building emanating sterile, clean corridors and the stench of irrevocable loses.
One thing I’ve not seen a lot of people converse about is the mental disposition of the person(s) who accompany a patient to the hospital. No doubt one cannot even fathom the kind of life changing experience a patient goes through but with them someone else also suffers, also writhes in agony, albeit silently. It is their attendant(s).
Sadly, how many people even come out and talk about the things that they feel? The anguish that they face waiting with their loved one huddled in a corner of the waiting area holding hands for their reports? Or how their chest tightens and throat fills every time they see blood being withdrawn for a test? Or how being the positive support of pillar takes a toll on their mental health? Or how going to the hospital every second day and witnessing pain and extreme sadness around them puts them in a disturbed place, making them fearful, anxious and scared all at once?
The number is so small it seems inconsequential. Now this is saddening. The person who gives all their sleeping and waking hours to someone’s health unconsciously ends up neglecting their own mental health and more often than not, their physical health too. And the conundrum is that this worry, fear and hope are intrinsic to all of us. It can’t be changed. We can’t ask a mother whose child is in the ICU to not be worried and not cry. Or a husband to relax while his wife is being operated upon. These emotions can’t be extracted from us and discarded, neither can we suppress them from affecting us. So then the question that remains is how to deal with this intense fear and the vicious cycle of hope, tests, reports, surgeries and the fear of loss? The solution is not unattainable or unachievable. It is right here, within all of us. It is the quality/ ability of ours that makes us human, makes us humane. It is humanity, sympathy. It is our ability to understand others’ pain and provide them with warmth, support and absolute understanding.
If you know someone who is in a position like this right now, the least you can do is be kind to them and provide them with the moral support that will give them enough strength to stand with their loved one and be their pillar of strength, their light at the end of the tunnel. Your utter trust in their ability and total support will help them to walk with a high head and straight shoulders. You can make a difference in someone’s life by being the shoulder they can rest their head upon. You can guide them to take help from a therapist and recuperate and that will make all the difference. Being there for each other always, being compassionate towards one another without having to ask for it is the least we can do as human beings.
If you are someone who is in this situation currently, know that it’s okay to feel this catastrophe of emotions. It’ll all be okay, you’ll be okay, if not today then tomorrow definitely. Reach out to someone before whom you can lighten your heart or most preferably seek help from a psychiatrist. It’s completely fine to seek help when you need it.
You are brave, you are strong, and you are courageous.
In conclusion I’d like to quote George R.R. Martin from A Game of Thrones, “Bran thought about it. ‘Can a man still be brave if he's afraid?’
‘That is the only time a man can be brave,’ his father told him.”
And if you want to talk to us, reach out to us. We are always here, ready to help and ready to listen to you without any judgements because the mind matters. Because you matter.
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