tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22998337595236537352024-03-19T14:18:23.821+05:30Chapters From My LifeChapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.comBlogger619125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-55099079676931239622024-02-11T10:47:00.002+05:302024-02-11T10:47:25.400+05:30Living My Dream Of An Inclusive Preschool<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGHDa4D6Ce0_d2bk5ehvRMR2C3QooKPju-pzQ__Bz6JdmKXPu9aDXdviN3-G3VqKDEQaBtn0XOBGJK50VskcAGyDS1hmpV02SQn71MBdV9BNdL1VBQDSZiWB54uIBe9MMhsXGAEFdDSbO5kvx1xYO3bimFhcfH7Gz3aGZC8uBn4K17_4SM529M9h6214c" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="354" data-original-width="856" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjGHDa4D6Ce0_d2bk5ehvRMR2C3QooKPju-pzQ__Bz6JdmKXPu9aDXdviN3-G3VqKDEQaBtn0XOBGJK50VskcAGyDS1hmpV02SQn71MBdV9BNdL1VBQDSZiWB54uIBe9MMhsXGAEFdDSbO5kvx1xYO3bimFhcfH7Gz3aGZC8uBn4K17_4SM529M9h6214c" width="320" /></a></div><br /> <p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px;">There was a time when I dreamed of becoming an astrophysicist. The inspiration was Carl Sagan and his television series ‘Cosmos: A Personal Voyage’. That dream was lost in space and gone forever when I dropped out of PUC and got married.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">My dream of being an independent career woman was forgotten as I got busy trying to please people, win their appreciation and take care of my children and family. I couldn’t connect or recognize myself, as days went by.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">This is when the <span style="box-sizing: border-box;">wake-up call came in the form of Breast Cancer when I was 29.</span> Relationships that demanded sacrifices crumbled like a house of cards when I endured the harsh treatment. I can say that I had no other option but to start a career and take care of myself financially. It was not easy but not impossible either. I had to start very small.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">Throughout my life, I had enjoyed teaching. Giving tuition was a hobby, but now it became a part of my income along with making and selling soft toys, stitching clothes, and many odd jobs. I was surprised that even when going through chemo, I could pick myself up and start earning. It gave a big boost to my confidence which has never wavered since then.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">As years went by, with encouragement from my son, I studied again. I completed my graduation and post-graduation and started my career seriously with all new fervor. I loved the lost and found again financial freedom.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">It was at this stage that a dream was born out of the pain which can only be experienced by a mom of a special needs child. My <span style="box-sizing: border-box;">teenage daughter with special needs</span> was referring to the regular people, including me, as ‘YOU’ people and those with special needs as ‘WE’ people. It was very painful for me to see that my daughter was feeling that she was different from me. Her feelings were based on how we treated her.</p><h2 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #ff9933; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 30px; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;">Getting out of the blame game vicious cycle</h2><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">I could blame society, our fate, or injustice and take some comfort in playing the blame game, or I could think of doing something about it. Thus was born the idea of creating a preschool where inclusivity would be a norm. I</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">know that it is not possible to include every child in a regular school due to the different challenges they have. For example, a child with severe ADHD in a regular environment may harm other children in the school. Autism is not well understood even by special educators, hence, it would be a challenge for regular teachers to handle a child with autism. Intellectual challenges, cerebral palsy, Downs syndrome, learning disabilities were easier for inclusivity.</p><h2 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #ff9933; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 30px; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;">Doing my homework before I undertook this</h2><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">Having done my M.S. in Counseling and Psychotherapy I understand both the physical and emotional challenges everyone would face in an inclusive environment. I was not going to jump blindly into the project without doing my homework. But I knew, there was no testing this water without getting into it. I gave up my job and started <span style="box-sizing: border-box;">an inclusive preschool</span>. It was a huge risk for someone who started a career very late in life, but a dream was born and I couldn’t stop myself.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">In the initial year, there was a rejection of the idea from parents of regular school-going preschoolers and the parents of children with special needs. One set of parents was afraid that the special children could be dangerous and that their children would pick up their behaviors. The other set of parents was worried their special child would be discriminated against, ignored, and hurt in a regular school environment. Admissions were rare, but they did happen. That was encouraging enough for me. Slowly people around me developed trust in my ability to run the school and admissions started picking up.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">In 2020 when I was stepping into the profit zone, Covid19 forced me to close down the school. It was a big shock and setback for me. Being in the rental premises hurt my business more. There were people who took advantage of the situation and caused losses to me, but there were also people who stepped in to support me. I had to close down the school and sell most of my materials. It was tougher than <span style="box-sizing: border-box;">giving up my breast when I had to fight cancer.</span></p><h2 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #ff9933; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 30px; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;">I restarted with my dream in 2022</h2><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">In 2022, when I came across an old building and the dream was born again. I had found a good job during the lockdown and was in a comfortable place once again, but Giggle Garden had the magic of pulling me into it once again. With encouragement from a few parents, I restarted my school.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">Fortunately, my struggling days were over. Admissions were not as difficult as it was in 2017 when I had opened the school for the first time. Though I was late in getting the premises ready and starting the school, there were enough admissions to almost cover the running cost every month. I am steadily moving forward with my school and daycare.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">We have children with challenges and parents have learned to respect my idea of running an inclusive preschool. Many ask me why not follow the normal way of inclusive education which starts at the age of 6 years and above for children, why preschool?</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;"></span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">As we can observe and understand, in the initial years of schooling, the needs of the special children and regular children are almost the same in school, though some extra help may be required based on their diagnosis. Inclusivity in the early years is easy compared to the years when academics take importance and special children will have different needs.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjA4Z8qtKYLH2aiE08w3xmycOzIsoDbCTAjoo7GrEZmOhLHaYZa-W8A6unI9yxdBdF6Ol5tHqvVz7bQtS92M8Dxxzup8SPQskvFNo-MRAiFEdwTwrcv4x9Gx2xI93AJWA9--dBf8c4X9uBRnzOOuxxD1qChvtgh-ijuof_71M7rGpMm3DHlF0-muDZ-D2o" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="900" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEjA4Z8qtKYLH2aiE08w3xmycOzIsoDbCTAjoo7GrEZmOhLHaYZa-W8A6unI9yxdBdF6Ol5tHqvVz7bQtS92M8Dxxzup8SPQskvFNo-MRAiFEdwTwrcv4x9Gx2xI93AJWA9--dBf8c4X9uBRnzOOuxxD1qChvtgh-ijuof_71M7rGpMm3DHlF0-muDZ-D2o=w400-h300" width="400" /></a></div><br /><br /></div>In the picture above, we can see that regular and special needs children can work side by side without any special effort from monitoring adults. Parents are being more supportive of the cause as we are growing in experience.<p></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">I may not be able to make a huge difference to many people, but I am sure I have already made a difference to a few children and parents. For me that little achievement is a dream I would die for.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">I wish to own a place that I make physically accessible to all people and create an environment where every child can smile and grow. I wish to be the ‘smile farmer’ in ‘Giggle Garden’ where I could grow smiles of all children.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><br /></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><a href="https://www.womensweb.in/2023/02/giggle-garden-inclusive-preschool-livingmydream-feb23wk3sr/">Published on Women's Web</a></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-35735302504748411472024-01-29T11:13:00.004+05:302024-01-29T11:13:48.342+05:30Nurturing Children's Health During Winter<p> </p><p><br /></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCvZ4vIUXkAp9q-rJ136KsFhGbPJmqoAfxDPbiu_ZpBc2dm4D13FakRb2Zd9W5N_seD4HffkPkIM-1vyYYsc04A-dH75EjHt1X9X9rdDindEGPOr8WMYVPIZjyYOnjpGCAmsowAovW0cZCa8Jh8PG48CNaw6S8x4F_q37nKeHQUjOKCTEXGxUSuHO_Cs4/s1045/winter.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="816" data-original-width="1045" height="430" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCvZ4vIUXkAp9q-rJ136KsFhGbPJmqoAfxDPbiu_ZpBc2dm4D13FakRb2Zd9W5N_seD4HffkPkIM-1vyYYsc04A-dH75EjHt1X9X9rdDindEGPOr8WMYVPIZjyYOnjpGCAmsowAovW0cZCa8Jh8PG48CNaw6S8x4F_q37nKeHQUjOKCTEXGxUSuHO_Cs4/w551-h430/winter.png" width="551" /></a></div><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-b99c0165-7fff-01bb-de9c-e840f1d58162"><h3 dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.92; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: -1pt 0pt 4pt 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span style="font-size: medium;">As winter approaches and temperatures plummet, it's essential to strike a balance between outdoor enjoyment and safeguarding the well-being of our little ones. While the cold season brings many a sense of joy, it also brings potential health risks, especially for children. Having observed children in <a href="https://maps.app.goo.gl/RUXzEzMsxdmZ1zMz9">My Giggle Garden</a> since its inception in 2017, I have come up with few practical tips to ensure our kids stay healthy and happy during winter.</span></span></h3><h3 dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.92; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: -1pt 0pt 4pt 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 16.5pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></h3><h3 dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.92; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: -1pt 0pt 4pt 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 16.5pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">1. Limit Outdoor Travel for Toddlers</span></h3><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 15pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Minimize outdoor excursions with toddlers during the<br /> winter months. The harsh cold can be challenging for their delicate systems. Opt for indoor activities and playdates to reduce exposure to the chilly weather.</span></p><h3 dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.92; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: -1pt 0pt 4pt 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 16.5pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">2. Embrace the Warmth</span></h3><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 15pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Distinguish between hot and warm. Ensure your children are appropriately dressed in layers to maintain a comfortable body temperature. Dressing them warmly is crucial for their well-being in colder weather.</span></p><h3 dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.92; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: -1pt 0pt 4pt 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 16.5pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">3. Nourish with Healthy Foods</span></h3><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 15pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Provide a well-balanced diet rich in nutrients to fuel your children's bodies during the winter. The cold season demands more energy, and a nutritious diet helps strengthen their immune systems.</span></p><h3 dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.92; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: -1pt 0pt 4pt 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 16.5pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">4. Shield from the Elements</span></h3><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 15pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Protect your child's ears from biting winds by using hats or earmuffs. Additionally, promptly dry them after baths, avoiding exposure to fans immediately afterward.</span></p><h3 dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.92; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: -1pt 0pt 4pt 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 16.5pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">5. Warm Soups for Comfort</span></h3><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 15pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Introduce a variety of soups to their diet. Not only do they keep your children warm, but they also contribute to their overall health. Homemade remedies such as tulsi leaves with honey or turmeric milk can work wonders.</span></p><h3 dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.92; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: -1pt 0pt 4pt 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 16.5pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">6. Prioritize Sleep</span></h3><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 15pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Ensure your children get sufficient sleep, especially during winter. Longer sleep times contribute to a healthier immune system. Establish a consistent bedtime routine to promote good sleep habits.</span></p><h3 dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.92; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: -1pt 0pt 4pt 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 16.5pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">7. Layer up on Socks</span></h3><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 15pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Keep their feet warm by adding an extra layer of socks, especially when sending them to school. Cold feet can contribute to discomfort and susceptibility to illnesses.</span></p><h3 dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.92; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: -1pt 0pt 4pt 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 16.5pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">8. Positive Winter Vibes</span></h3><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 15pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Encourage a positive outlook on winter by allowing children to enjoy the season's festivities. Avoid instilling a fear of the cold by refraining from repeatedly saying, "If you do this, you'll catch a cold." Instead, focus on the fun aspects of winter.</span></p><h3 dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.92; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 10pt 0pt 4pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 16.5pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">9. Home Remedies for Wellness</span></h3><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 15pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Incorporate safe and time-tested home remedies into your winter routine. Tulsi leaves with honey and turmeric milk are excellent choices for bolstering your child's immune system without side effects.</span></p><h3 dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.92; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: -1pt 0pt 4pt 0pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 16.5pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">10. Embrace the Season</span></h3><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 2; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 16.5pt; text-align: justify;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="background-color: transparent; color: #434343; font-size: 12pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Look forward to the wonders that winter brings. Strike a balance between safeguarding your children's health and enjoying the crisp, refreshing weather. By following these tips, you can create a winter experience that is both safe and enjoyable for your little ones.</span></p></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-19772793601980292982023-12-04T14:02:00.004+05:302023-12-04T14:05:19.031+05:30The Broken Wheelchairs in Lalbagh, Brindavan Gardens and Ooty Botanical Garden<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span id="docs-internal-guid-79d4524c-7fff-6b9e-ee64-013843675545"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"></span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT7Hn72fLWuiBnW2aH4mkfb65IZhOVGoZAvVUqePt7Vz5kUuMpoBChQuO8ygXDiz0cVNTRdb6Mk0hioePwh1gL-OkVtnGyveBmpVsggrVdE6UpAfJoQQCqiePL97iZ7TCJRfuxUnfRwK95cKHXGAGICmwhoc9yeZ4-UoOMnC6TpV_mSqtb9yyqH9TG_CI/s4624/20231119_090157.heic" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3468" height="547" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhT7Hn72fLWuiBnW2aH4mkfb65IZhOVGoZAvVUqePt7Vz5kUuMpoBChQuO8ygXDiz0cVNTRdb6Mk0hioePwh1gL-OkVtnGyveBmpVsggrVdE6UpAfJoQQCqiePL97iZ7TCJRfuxUnfRwK95cKHXGAGICmwhoc9yeZ4-UoOMnC6TpV_mSqtb9yyqH9TG_CI/w410-h547/20231119_090157.heic" width="410" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sitting and waiting near the entrance has become common for Farheena <br />due to the broken wheelchairs in many places. </td></tr></tbody></table><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="text-align: center;">Recently, Farheena, my daughter, went through a </span><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; text-align: center;">phase of feeling very low. I decided to take her to new places to make her feel better. I have always strived to enrich my daughter's experiences and focused on her happiness more than her learning or development. I was excited to take her to the iconic Brindavan Gardens in Mysore and the picturesque Botanical Garden in Ooty. Before going to any place, I check reviews and gather information regarding the distance to be covered, how even the road is for walking (both Farheena and I cannot manage very uneven roads), and whether we have wheelchairs available. I am inquisitive for information after we got stuck in Lalbagh. Farheena somehow walked into the place when she heard that the wheelchair was broken, but returning after reaching a certain distance became tough. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 12pt; margin-top: 12pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">When I got to know that these places offered wheelchairs for visitors with mobility challenges, I embarked on our journey with high hopes of creating lasting memories with Farheena and my family. Little did I know that our enthusiasm would soon be dampened by the disappointing reality of broken wheelchairs, not just once or twice but thrice.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">In an era where inclusivity is championed, it is disheartening to encounter barriers that impede the experiences of individuals with disabilities. Lalbagh, Brindavan Gardens, and Ooty Botanical Garden proudly advertise their commitment to accessibility, claiming to provide wheelchairs for those in need. However, the stark reality on the ground contradicts these promises, leaving visitors like us feeling let down and frustrated.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Upon reaching the parks, we were eager to avail the promised wheelchairs, only to be informed that the available ones were in a state of disrepair. In Ooty, we did not find anyone interested in answering or guiding us to check those chairs. This posed a significant inconvenience and raised questions about the commitment of these popular tourist destinations to ensuring a truly inclusive experience for all visitors.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It's disheartening to witness the disappointment on my daughter's face as she struggled to navigate the uneven terrain without the assistance of a wheelchair. The broken wheelchairs hindered her mobility and cast a shadow over what was supposed to be a joyous and carefree day. I felt hurt to see her sit on a bench and watch everyone explore the places. In Mysore, we at least got to move around in an electric car, but in Ooty, they said it is available at 9.30 A.M., but it was not working even around 10.30, so we left. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">Parks like Lalbagh, Brindavan Gardens, and Ooty Botanical Garden are recreational spaces and significant public assets. Millions are invested in their development and maintenance, and it is only fair to expect that a fraction of these funds be allocated to maintaining functional wheelchairs. The government should ensure that every place with more than 1000 footfalls daily should have at least 10 working wheelchairs. In a country that has more than 2.5 crore people with disabilities, this is a must if we want to ensure inclusivity. Everyone deserves to spend time in these beautiful places, especially those with mobility challenges. It is tough for them to go on treks or into natural setups where moving around is challenging. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"> Ensuring the availability of working wheelchairs is not just a matter of fulfilling legal requirements but an ethical responsibility to make public spaces genuinely accessible to everyone. At least if we have the knowledge of broken wheelchairs ahead of time, we can make some different arrangements. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; font-weight: 700; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The Call for Change:</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">It is crucial for authorities overseeing these public spaces to recognize the urgency of addressing accessibility issues. By investing in well-maintained wheelchairs and other facilities, they can create an environment where all visitors, regardless of their physical abilities, can fully enjoy the beauty these parks have to offer.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 15pt; text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;">The broken wheelchairs at Lalbagh, Brindavan Gardens in Mysore, and Ooty Botanical Garden are a stark reminder of the work that must be done to ensure true inclusivity in our public spaces. I sincerely hope our experience prompts those in charge to reevaluate their commitment to accessibility and take immediate steps to rectify the situation. After all, everyone deserves the chance to explore and appreciate the wonders of these parks without unnecessary hindrances.</span></p><div style="text-align: left;"><span face="Roboto, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; font-variant-position: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space-collapse: preserve;"><br /></span></div></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjJG8xIwbdUcn0HvADA2EPMLotuJRflu25xC2oHwv0SGmyhyphenhyphenCSSLwnKqTwIUQJmDyiy_Rdwog1x5udj45G4HLA34u8MpE-vzzRzDR3yqiMAlMPFmFc1DAqj7_FIGPb8nJd-t40oeV88Ro32M6pXWfHP_2CqLV72rzECTkwpwx121PaCvk0kdzNqyovJIM/s4000/20231118_165647.jpg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjJG8xIwbdUcn0HvADA2EPMLotuJRflu25xC2oHwv0SGmyhyphenhyphenCSSLwnKqTwIUQJmDyiy_Rdwog1x5udj45G4HLA34u8MpE-vzzRzDR3yqiMAlMPFmFc1DAqj7_FIGPb8nJd-t40oeV88Ro32M6pXWfHP_2CqLV72rzECTkwpwx121PaCvk0kdzNqyovJIM/s320/20231118_165647.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht4L6TwmV4AvmITTRoElfO9X0OVaB7Bbb0QQ-SFgxKFBbw3KyyDDlEErNGUXDhvcmGgOGWV6dQHk67XjlzZ5PYhI8gqULdOZUP8B1oS2nnPYRMNMOkcVDe8LyNmGwZHMFXTqodRVMewTjvcFWbo54WJOtWLfnoJ1nRpI-6QLrM60npIf_U6gdrbr25qtA/s792/Screenshot%202023-12-04%20135504.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="792" data-original-width="776" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht4L6TwmV4AvmITTRoElfO9X0OVaB7Bbb0QQ-SFgxKFBbw3KyyDDlEErNGUXDhvcmGgOGWV6dQHk67XjlzZ5PYhI8gqULdOZUP8B1oS2nnPYRMNMOkcVDe8LyNmGwZHMFXTqodRVMewTjvcFWbo54WJOtWLfnoJ1nRpI-6QLrM60npIf_U6gdrbr25qtA/s320/Screenshot%202023-12-04%20135504.png" width="314" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The picture doesn't really show how tired she was.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHWsyIUIkC6yrgWiMOx6NkmYEWPL5vzbUgPv-YvGcmda0ugMOd_CpAg6LApLnCAGTG3BzGLxIvPnB7cIGjHc5wR5WghbiYcJ56ZZdgy5iXdmtVhBSbnb2B9Eaf9VOMJYKX4iqMIF46eYSCuK67czjue0b2BYPZX1ZZ_n-KB5Sa4SeB2q83HctBafKGCkA/s4624/20231007_172258.heic" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3468" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHWsyIUIkC6yrgWiMOx6NkmYEWPL5vzbUgPv-YvGcmda0ugMOd_CpAg6LApLnCAGTG3BzGLxIvPnB7cIGjHc5wR5WghbiYcJ56ZZdgy5iXdmtVhBSbnb2B9Eaf9VOMJYKX4iqMIF46eYSCuK67czjue0b2BYPZX1ZZ_n-KB5Sa4SeB2q83HctBafKGCkA/s320/20231007_172258.heic" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sitting and waiting patiently with a smile</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizTJw4XvAMTKmaw43cHpqFrwK8v5sz-pBILhYC875z7lhXT2eF-lhKqowIJX8ev2sfg9w92qHH-kPq7bF7iBPuKWK7ZKLaFvEvT9s03nRynoT0Y5j6ZXcLJkMpsLXKdbF0_w5EWFuxpNL9-dQzY7TtC8OgT2mtwPDRpTT-BGmmnDVRc__SfgjSsR89oOo/s4000/20231118_170238.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4000" data-original-width="3000" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizTJw4XvAMTKmaw43cHpqFrwK8v5sz-pBILhYC875z7lhXT2eF-lhKqowIJX8ev2sfg9w92qHH-kPq7bF7iBPuKWK7ZKLaFvEvT9s03nRynoT0Y5j6ZXcLJkMpsLXKdbF0_w5EWFuxpNL9-dQzY7TtC8OgT2mtwPDRpTT-BGmmnDVRc__SfgjSsR89oOo/s320/20231118_170238.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><br /><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7iXV_BOsCRHk4nyK-WWgQviS19aQqIGRoNszmVgEs9Vz8RuUEXqi3RbEAIjIZs8AYSVc1Iad-mrbH1iKT1TzMp7VWvbZICqtvcRzzYoffvgv8bLjgW66xHxUGR5Oa0Naula_M8xxtxT9Wn7P0QI8VjVgUfRK6W1lQcikIPxc2Zm5EqCHGG2qvTR_01E/s4624/20231119_095844.heic" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="4624" data-original-width="3468" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI7iXV_BOsCRHk4nyK-WWgQviS19aQqIGRoNszmVgEs9Vz8RuUEXqi3RbEAIjIZs8AYSVc1Iad-mrbH1iKT1TzMp7VWvbZICqtvcRzzYoffvgv8bLjgW66xHxUGR5Oa0Naula_M8xxtxT9Wn7P0QI8VjVgUfRK6W1lQcikIPxc2Zm5EqCHGG2qvTR_01E/s320/20231119_095844.heic" width="240" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-32562985680584943352023-06-06T18:59:00.006+05:302023-06-06T19:17:11.624+05:30Treasure of Memories and Present<p> <span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">6/6/1996, </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">1/1/2006 and </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">9/9/2009</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-7619ccb6-7fff-4890-3f5b-bdbf9e0bb94f"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">These dates may not hold any significance to many, but for me, they are reminders of great pain and loss a person will suffer because earlier they had enjoyed the love and company of their loved ones. These are days when I lost my sister, mom and dad. For some weird reason, the dates have the same day and month for all three of them. I am not sure if life, nature and their souls are sending some code through those dates for us - those still living and loving them. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Madiha, my daughter-in-law also has something similar as her birth date - because she was born on 6th of June as well. 6/6. Somehow this makes my connection a bit special. Slowly she has reduced the pain of losing a loving sister which is always more severe for me than losing my parents. Knowing someone was born on the same day and fate got her to marry Rayyan looks a bit more dramatic than just coincidence to me. For my sister, Rayyan was definitely the most favorite person. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My sister was older than me by a little more than 3 years. She was a physically very strong person and always took care of me. She would never allow anyone to bully me, though she would do it at times. Even after my marriage, she would be there anytime she sensed I was having trouble. Though I very well knew I could defend myself, I never stopped her. I loved the way she protected me, a habit which naturally comes to the elder sibling. I do the same with my younger siblings, especially my brother though he is very well capable of handling himself.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I lost her support though, when I actually needed her the most. I was struggling with my chemotherapy, Farheena’s diagnosis and uncertain future when I lost her. Something changed in me all of sudden. I became very tough, emotionally very strong and very practical. Slowly I took up her role in my life as well, protecting me as strongly as she had always done. Gradually, everyone started looking up to me as a person who is strong and doesn’t need any support at all. I get a lot of love from my children, but both of them look up to me as someone who can do anything - almost like a supermom. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is after many years, I am being defended against again now. Madiha somehow sees me as a normal person and she jumps in my defense </span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"> at home - against everyone. I found it funny initially, but slowly it started creating the feeling of being with my sister for me. The feeling itself is not strong, but a whiff of it passes by me whenever Madiha fights on my behalf or stops me from overdoing things. I feel life has compensated me for the losses a little through giving me a happy and strong bonding with my daughter-in-law. It is funny to see that I failed in bonding with the person I married but could do so with the one my son married. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The pain of losing a loved one never goes away, but it feels good to have some love to ease that pain.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-alternates: normal; font-variant-east-asian: normal; 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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-56350316597528582102023-04-28T23:55:00.001+05:302023-04-28T23:55:44.408+05:30My Life Is Worth Fighting Cancer<div class="xdj266r x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">27 years ago on this day, I woke up with two breasts but went back to bed with only one. In terms of changes happening in my life, this was the biggest change to happen in a day.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Of course being a special parent is more challenging, but then it doesn’t happen in a day. </div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Back then I had regrets with the demands of cancer treatment, but today I am damn sure that it was totally worth it. All these years I have upgraded myself with new skills. Every year I have taken up a goal to achieve and done that. Last year it was the re-opening of My Giggle Garden which has run successfully for a year. I hope to see some profits from the coming Academic Year. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">This year I will be trying my hand at Standups - Storytelling + Comedy. Links from a few recorded ones shared here.</div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">It is very tragic to be a side character in your own story and that is what I was prior to cancer. I had to change that. Much of the credit goes to Rayyan for not just guiding me but standing by me as well to bring about the much needed change. When I decided to study, many people, even those who cared for me, told me I was not doing the right thing, but Rayyan stood by me. I know I love my two daughters a lot, but there will always be a special place for Rayyan in my heart. It is very different from love and affection. It is very rare that I get to guide Rayyan as a Mom. </div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">My journey was tough but that is what made it interesting. I decided not to allow anyone to push me down, not cancer, not people nor the situation. I had given up my education, career, financial independence and a lot more earlier, but I wanted to take back my life. I did not wish to continue as a side character in the movie of my life. I wanted to be the heroine of at least my own life. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I did not wait even for my treatment to be over, and started with the first step towards earning a small amount during my chemotherapy itself. I sold soft toys, made clothes, gave tuitions and did many other odd jobs. Taking up a profession is not possible without education or skill. I took the next step and started learning computers and the internet on my own. </div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I first got a diploma in Counselling skills, did my graduation and finally my masters in Counselling and psychotherapy. I funded my education through freelance writing and blogging. It was not as easy as it looks like. It took me all of 15 years to achieve my goals but finally I did. </div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I was finally back in the driver's seat of my life. I cannot say the Deewar dialogue mere paas building hai, bank balance hai, gaadi hai bangla hai…but I could once again choose the clothes I wanted to wear, the food I wanted to eat, the place I wanted to go and live the way I wanted within my limits. Limits because I am not a superhero - just the heroine of my own life. </div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">There is a famous saying which says, when life gives you lemons - make lemonade. I changed my funda into - When life gives you tumour, change it into humour. Laugh loudly and live happily which is exactly what I am doing right now. </div></div><div class="x11i5rnm xat24cr x1mh8g0r x1vvkbs xtlvy1s x126k92a" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; text-align: left; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">They say cancer kills but the good news is we can kill cancer as well, if we fight back. You can give up and expire or fight back to live to inspire. You can become statistic or fantastic, the choice is mostly yours. I am the living proof of that sharing my story happily today. Boo to cancer and yay to me.</div></div></div><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/PfS4xamSi_g" width="320" youtube-src-id="PfS4xamSi_g"></iframe></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/EnGfE8ufcoU" width="320" youtube-src-id="EnGfE8ufcoU"></iframe></div><br /> <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip66K_bL6jCmY34zVcpa-R98OkOOxc1zSNsAWNTck0IQsdi8fJfZTP7z2QyWfms4RqG1MvCiPrfTKOuO21YWkGRQhGtrHmG9sf-TSQXe4U7vxVyTonXtJykr5wpdUuos2xZ-pjuKozUIZeODpenbJUz7OwoEG5cbCFYIonCQXHhZWtLheHPhZ6EA8O/s4656/IMG_20230318_202309.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3496" data-original-width="4656" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEip66K_bL6jCmY34zVcpa-R98OkOOxc1zSNsAWNTck0IQsdi8fJfZTP7z2QyWfms4RqG1MvCiPrfTKOuO21YWkGRQhGtrHmG9sf-TSQXe4U7vxVyTonXtJykr5wpdUuos2xZ-pjuKozUIZeODpenbJUz7OwoEG5cbCFYIonCQXHhZWtLheHPhZ6EA8O/s320/IMG_20230318_202309.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; 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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-16852776644465088592023-04-17T12:33:00.004+05:302023-04-17T12:34:11.412+05:3025 Silver Linings - Bonding With My Breast<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4189bOoe0CIpuMiND4jj0Q-U-vXm7w47PEYsCSk3L2XiW6yr40PJdTofX94uPxc6aTz-uhMwH4kZEmgIreXfs_3av-N-RqBji_9eFoJhckyMz9eYjvEhmJniH-nAuyMpOA4YXERR-MubGLM-KCgCPspHbRB40v6up_MvAaAYIydjkcL3vljG5WVFS" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="261" data-original-width="500" height="167" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg4189bOoe0CIpuMiND4jj0Q-U-vXm7w47PEYsCSk3L2XiW6yr40PJdTofX94uPxc6aTz-uhMwH4kZEmgIreXfs_3av-N-RqBji_9eFoJhckyMz9eYjvEhmJniH-nAuyMpOA4YXERR-MubGLM-KCgCPspHbRB40v6up_MvAaAYIydjkcL3vljG5WVFS" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p></p><p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is not easy for a young woman, who is nearing her 30’s to remove a whole breast to save her life. I had to take this horrible decision at the age of 29 and it was not easy though I did not express it out loud. I would like to share my simple experience a few hours before my surgery so that people who have someone in their family fighting breast cancer will empathize with them. I also want those who have been or may have to go </span><span style="color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><a style="color: #385898; cursor: pointer; font-family: inherit;" tabindex="-1"></a></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">through it to feel that they are not alone in this fight. There are others who have fought it and come out of it triumphantly. I myself have lived 25 years of fruitful and happy life after being through the treatment. </span></p><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">As I went through the decisions of choosing a treatment plan and going ahead with the surgery for removal of the whole breast, the bathroom itself had become a safe haven for me. It was a place I could lock myself in and no one would ask me why I had locked the door. It is always convenient to slip into the bathroom for some lonely time without anyone questioning you, especially when I want to avoid questions. Our well wishers do not realize that sometimes the good wishes, questions, guidance become too much for the patient themselves to tolerate. </div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">My surgery was scheduled at 7 a.m. in the morning, 28th April 1996. It was past midnight, but I could not get a wink of sleep. I lay restless on the hospital bed, wondering how life would be without a breast. The emotions were confusing, because I knew deep in my heart that breasts do not mean much. None of the species other than humans have ever given so much importance to breasts. I haven’t seen any cow, dog or cat showing any special attention to this anatomy as we humans do. They really get down to the point quickly without any attention to the breasts. I had come up with all the arguments to make myself feel at ease, but still I felt something in my stomach crunch to think a part of me is going to be removed completely in a few hours. I did not expect these emotions, because as a mother of two children who were too young, I had decided that they needed their mom more than me needing my breast. I had argued enough to steel myself for this procedure, yet, here I was feeling confused, sad and angry emotions. </div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">The emotions were quite confusing and conflicting, I was not sure how to deal with it. I got up and entered the bathroom, as this was fast becoming my safe refuge for thinking things over in my mind. As I looked into the mirror on the bathroom wall, my boobs stared back at me through the hospital gown. They were looking larger than their usual self, as though they were threatening me. Then I realized that those poor things were just swollen with a collection of milk, since I had abruptly stopped breastfeeding my daughter. I just wanted to have a look at myself as I am, before being cut and stitched. </div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I pulled the gown on top of my head and stood there naked, watching my breasts. They looked good side by side. I tried to imagine the chest with only one breast. I couldn’t. I felt a kind of bond developing with the breast I was throwing away because she had given shelter to the cancer tumor. I felt guilty that I had not given a thought to saving her, or salvaging her at all. When the doctor had given me the option of lumpectomy or mastectomy, I had chosen total radical mastectomy because I wanted to be sure that cancer would not be left behind in my breast. I did not want any risk involved. </div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">But standing here in front of the mirror, looking at myself, I wondered about my decision. Will I be ever able to wear all regular dresses or do I need something different hereafter? How will my status as a woman be affected by this? I knew I had no answers. </div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Suddenly I could feel a rush of love for my breast that was going to be sacrificed tomorrow. It was as though she was an entity of her own, someone different from me and I was bidding her goodbye. I cupped both my hands around her and held her lovingly for 5 minutes. I am not sure whether I was comforting my breast or myself, but that was it. It was a bonding moment with my breast for me, like we share with another person with a hug. It was a soothing, comforting and releasing moment for me, a time when I could really let go of my breast even before the surgery. </div><div dir="auto" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I looked at myself for one final time trying to etch the picture of myself with two breasts in my mind. I wished I could photograph myself like this, but it was too late. Those were not the days of mobile phones or digital photos. My surgery was scheduled in a few hours. Sigh! I let the idea go and walked out of the bathroom and slept on my bed. I could actually catch some winks of sleep after that.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-64882071337877350702022-01-01T14:44:00.003+05:302022-01-01T17:02:16.489+05:30A Letter To My Mommy.....<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_8PPEodnHSaSOsH06YGoDiY7OxJ-Jxmw5SuJqgigejAGQQ34CRFwurpCnxlPo2lLBBSgBhvztZeq8agwLSYSONoE-z8tgZbsQSAvw5nYXbSrCqCOr31mM0o-aIoivnKKVpYH2GxnzJhKN49RuZ5EtIBH7BzfOGPJRF-UjumlQf6pLp0C_P4PeyiqC=s1203" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="802" data-original-width="1203" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEg_8PPEodnHSaSOsH06YGoDiY7OxJ-Jxmw5SuJqgigejAGQQ34CRFwurpCnxlPo2lLBBSgBhvztZeq8agwLSYSONoE-z8tgZbsQSAvw5nYXbSrCqCOr31mM0o-aIoivnKKVpYH2GxnzJhKN49RuZ5EtIBH7BzfOGPJRF-UjumlQf6pLp0C_P4PeyiqC=w640-h426" width="640" /></a></div><br />This was tough. There
are a few things that have eluded me, because I am kind of a free soul who does
whatever I want, even at times driving people around me to desperation. For the past week, I have been thinking about something I should do to start the year. I wish to do something that would remove a big negative vibe from my life. The thought got me thinking, and I got lost in the thoughts for nearly 6 days. On the 7<sup>th</sup>
day, I realized that there is actually something I have never done before and it
is high time I did it. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">New Year has never been the same for me since 2006, the year we lost our mom as the year was in transition and parties going on every day. My mom always believed that the decisions she made for her children were the best for them. Unfortunately, as expected they were not. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">One of those decisions included the guy she choose to me marry off to, though at that age I was not wise enough to sense the danger signals. She should have, but she did not. I carried a lot of anger/regret in my heart for the decision she made, and also how she trapped me into believing that this was the best choice I had. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I decided to write a letter to my mom to erase those negative feelings from my heart forever. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">As my Mom was an illiterate person, I never got to write
a letter for her. I always had to write a letter to my dad or sister and give
instructions to tell Mommy this or that when I was not with her. Now that she is in heaven I think she
can read or some angel will read it to her if she is stubborn and says, ‘I can’t
read’. So finally this year <b>I am writing my first
personal letter to my Mom</b>. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">The
letter is going to be in English because my Mom always admired the way I handled
the language and felt proud of it. I used to feel so embarrassed when she would
prod me “Fari, show them how well you can speak. Go ahead talk in English with
them”. LOL. Though she could not speak the language she could very well
understand it. So here it goes.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">
“Hey, Mommy, </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How is heaven? I miss you over here a lot. Don’t worry and start
grumbling, “Why has Fari all of a sudden decided to write a letter to me? Is
she going to ask me some weird questions even now?” Honestly, I am not having
any more questions for you to answer for me, because the answers do not matter
anymore. I know I always had so many questions for you. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Why did you do that? </div><div class="MsoNormal">How could you love my younger sister more than
me? </div><div class="MsoNormal">Why do you have to spend so much? </div><div class="MsoNormal">All those questions have lost their
significance. Even if you had answers for all of them, that would not change
anything. You were a great Mommy to all of us, and whatever you did was for our
own good. If things went wrong, it was only because you did not know what was
good for us. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When bringing up my own children, on those rarest days when I
got angry with them, I would stop myself before going ahead and say “What would
I do if my parents were in this situation and not my children? I would not hit my parents or scold them for this mistake, right? Let me treat my children with the same respect I show to my parents and handle this sensibly”. </div><div class="MsoNormal">For example, if my children break something precious, I just think that what I would do if my dad or mom had broken it, and respond in the same way to my children as I would to my parents. </div><div class="MsoNormal">That way I
have been able to stop myself from hurting my children emotionally. Also when
they would not see things as I did or
would act differently from what I expected, I would console myself saying, though
they are my own kids, they are not ‘ME’. They are different individuals with
their own characteristics and personality. I have been able to maintain peace with my children, more so after you left them. Taking good care of them and loving them is one best gifts I can give you. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">Today I am going to reverse that
rule. I will think of you as my own child and let things go, as only a Mom can
forgive and forget everything a child has done. It is very difficult for us to forgive our parents, but we usually very easily forgive our children. I know you have done that with us a thousand
times in our lives. Though this sounds funny, I have tears rolling down my
cheeks as I type. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">When my children were born, I decided to accept them for who they are and love them unconditionally. Today, I decide to accept you for whatever you are because though
you are my MOM, you are not ME. Why should I expect you to do everything right? We are both different individuals with our own
thoughts, characteristics, and personalities. Your extravagances, your fears of
simple things, and all other characteristics are accepted by me today without finding fault
in them. Even the high-fat content of your tasty food is all good with me now. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I remember how badly you wanted me to get married to your ‘chosen
one’ and how many weird tricks you played on me. You exaggerated your heart
problems and told me you were dying. I still have no clue how I lost the bet to
you. That is how you got the nickname ‘crow’ from me. Remember how I would say “You are the
Chiranjeevi crow Mommy. I am sure you will not die” whenever you tried to
emotionally blackmail me ever again with your death threats? You said someday I
will regret it. Though you are no more with me, I don’t regret it. It is so
funny even today to think over and laugh at. I am so sure you would have survived
my refusal of marriage. Studying and becoming an astrophysicist meant a lot to
me. You never understood how important this was to me. All you could think was
about getting me married to the person who you thought was best suited for your
daughter. You even went ahead and said ‘I will cut off my right arm if I am
ever proved wrong and he hurts you in any way. You had some dramatic ways, Mommy! </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When your chosen one made a great fuss about me sending
Farheena to school, for once I saw that regret in your eyes and when you said, “I
made a mistake” it was like a final victory for me. You asked me to forgive you for the wrong you
have done. You also said, maybe I would have become a great </div><div class="MsoNormal">scientist if not
for your silliness. Back then I said, “No. I will not forgive you”, in my own hilarious
style. Somehow it was difficult to forgive also back on that day.</div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today I can say for sure that I don’t even feel a need to
forgive you because I don’t feel you did anything wrong. In the words of Eric
Segal, "Love means never having to say you're sorry". Your actions
were based on your concern for my well-being. You were scared that I would get
sucked into the black hole or go crazy by reading all the time. For us your
fears were silly, but for you they were true. Today, as a mother when I worry
about my children’s safety, I can understand you much better than I did back
then. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Due to your choice, I have two wonderful children who have
made life so much interesting and better for me for the past 3 decades. Now Madiha has become a part of our lives as well. Nothing in
the world would have made me happier than being a mom to them. The feeling is
mutual. They would never exchange their crazy Maa for anything. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I take great pride in my parenting skills and
the way I have brought up my children. I cherish every moment I spend with
them. And to think all this has been possible only due to the silly choice you
made. This has been lingering in my mind for a long time. Today I just
officially announce it openly to you. I am very happy with the way you brought me
up, instilled confidence in me by trusting me, gave me the freedom to explore all
religions, got me married to the person of your choice, and for the amazingly tasty food which made me fat finally. </div><div class="MsoNormal">Thank you for the amazing patience you showed when I threw around
tantrums after tantrums in my childhood. Thank you for being my mom.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Though you made a decision back then for me, I realized
lately that I always had a choice to continue or not with the situation I was
in. Today I am moving ahead with my life in the way I want it. The past cannot
be corrected but the future can be changed. No more blaming you or anyone for
what I am today, but taking responsibility for what I am and sculpting my
future the way I want it to be. I know you and Dad would be proud to see the
work I am doing now. You both were always proud of me. The expression on your
face when you said you regretted your decision to get me married was very
painful. I am motivated now to make you feel at ease by getting my life back and being independent. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I miss seeing you laugh uncontrollably shaking all over and
going red at the jokes I would crack. Just the other day your daughter-in-law was remembering how you would laugh and go red in the face when I said something funny.
I miss you when Rayyan or Farheena achieves something because no one would
praise them like you did. I miss you when I achieve something or when our
family gets together and has fun. Most of all I miss your shrewdness which had
people dancing to your tunes. Your words of wisdom make so much sense to me
when I am going through a tough phase in life. </div><div class="MsoNormal"><br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Now that Dad has left for the same place you went to, I hope
you are both together there with your lovely daughter. Or are you hiding from
dad and making fool of him. I hope someday we all will be together again like
we were earlier. That was one of the happiest times of our lives.<br /> Sigh! See
you once I am done with my work here. Bye for now. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Regards</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Farida<br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 28px;">
<span lang="EN-IN"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #990000;">The people who have become a treasure in my memories. I miss them every moment of my life. </span></b></span></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: "Times New Roman", Times, FreeSerif, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 28px;">
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com27tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-56835508026868825122021-11-05T13:17:00.002+05:302021-11-09T13:25:31.157+05:3025 Silver Linings - The Day Of The SurgeryIt all started very early in the morning. I wanted to walk into the operation theater but the staff insisted they will wheel me in. By then I had stopped questioning why. I had surrendered myself to the medical staff. <br /><br />Once inside, slowly and calmly one by one experts carried out their task under the guidance of my surgeon, Dr. Murad Lala. The vitals were checked. My doctor asked me whether I suffered from low BP. I said, “Not so far”. He said, “Usually patients will have a bit higher BP before surgery, your BP is perfectly fine. So I was wondering whether you had lower BP earlier which moved to regular now”. We laughed at that. <br /><br />I did not completely understand what was about to happen to me. Neither did I want to understand that because it was tough to handle that thought. I kept wondering what my children were doing. The only person from my family I met before being wheeled into the operation theater was my husband. I did not want all of them to go through the trauma once again. I wondered how my parents and siblings must be handling this situation now. <br /><br />Things just moved in fast forward mode once I was on the surgical table. My doctor talked to me one last time and asked me, “You understand the surgical procedure, right? Are you confident going ahead with this?” I am not sure whether he was giving me a choice of backing off or ensuring I am comfortable. I asked, “I am OK, how about you sir?” He laughed out loud at this and answered, “Honestly, I am a bit nervous. This is the first time I have taken all the independent decisions and gone ahead with the surgery outside the oncology hospital on my own. I am going to do my best”. By then the anesthesiologist was ready and he put a mask on my face. It was funny that I had expected them to give me a shot to make me unconscious. He informed me that as I breathe, I will slowly lose my consciousness. “Just relax and breathe,” he said. I worried about what would happen if I woke up during surgery. I am not sure my thoughts were even completed before anesthesia took over my consciousness. <br /><br />The next thing I heard was the voice of my doctor, calling me out. “Farida, Farida, can you hear me?” He seemed to be in a deep well and called me from there. I was very much confused as to why the person who was supposed to do my surgery in a few minutes was calling me from somewhere far off. I wanted to see, but I couldn’t open my eyes. The lids were glued together. I found my voice though and said, “Where am I?” or “Where are you?” I am not sure which one. Then slowly I opened my eyes and found my doctor tapping my cheeks. That was confusing for some time before I realized that I was on the bed in the ward and he was trying to wake me up from sleep. I tried getting up, but he said, “No, please don’t move yet. I want you to wake up since it is already evening. How do you feel?” Slowly the dull ache on my chest informed me that the surgery was over. I was waking up from the anesthesia. I could see my dad and my husband in the background. I had some kind of emotion surging through me, but I cannot tell what it was. It was a one time feeling I had and I have no name for it. <p><span id="docs-internal-guid-3f9a453c-7fff-1c4e-8e88-6557784e9d1d"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-394HDy-rj7c/YYThRgM0WOI/AAAAAAAA4-4/BjVUsc4FCCUHc1Z0AJgOcodDtxwIBntcQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Breast-Cancer-Awareness-JD-Institute-of-Fashion-Technology-15.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="214" data-original-width="320" height="214" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-394HDy-rj7c/YYThRgM0WOI/AAAAAAAA4-4/BjVUsc4FCCUHc1Z0AJgOcodDtxwIBntcQCLcBGAsYHQ/s0/Breast-Cancer-Awareness-JD-Institute-of-Fashion-Technology-15.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Survived the Day to talk about it years later to create awareness.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-waIkhWb_H0M/YYTg_l_WXVI/AAAAAAAA4-s/2sPx06yvRrki1WvECh5GDuc_-M27yuROACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Pink-Ribbon.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a></div><div style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-waIkhWb_H0M/YYTg_l_WXVI/AAAAAAAA4-s/2sPx06yvRrki1WvECh5GDuc_-M27yuROACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Pink-Ribbon.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="278" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-waIkhWb_H0M/YYTg_l_WXVI/AAAAAAAA4-s/2sPx06yvRrki1WvECh5GDuc_-M27yuROACLcBGAsYHQ/s0/Pink-Ribbon.jpg" width="278" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><p></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-20962946563970531562021-09-30T13:28:00.008+05:302021-09-30T14:20:45.585+05:30My Career Review in 10 Minutes<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="" class="BLOG_video_class" height="266" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/vkYmnyX9Y8M" width="320" youtube-src-id="vkYmnyX9Y8M"></iframe></div> <p></p><div class="post-summary mt-2 mb-2" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #212529; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-bottom: 0.5rem; margin-top: 0.5rem;"><div style="border: var(--artdeco-reset-base-border-zero); box-sizing: inherit; color: rgba(0, 0, 0, 0.9); font-family: -apple-system, system-ui, BlinkMacSystemFont, "Segoe UI", Roboto, "Helvetica Neue", "Fira Sans", Ubuntu, Oxygen, "Oxygen Sans", Cantarell, "Droid Sans", "Apple Color Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Emoji", "Segoe UI Symbol", "Lucida Grande", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 16px; margin: var(--artdeco-reset-base-margin-zero); padding: var(--artdeco-reset-base-padding-zero); vertical-align: var(--artdeco-reset-base-vertical-align-baseline);"><div class="reader-article-content" dir="ltr" style="background: var(--artdeco-reset-base-background-transparent); border: var(--artdeco-reset-base-border-zero); box-sizing: inherit; font-size: var(--artdeco-reset-base-font-size-hundred-percent); margin: var(--artdeco-reset-base-margin-zero); padding: var(--artdeco-reset-base-padding-zero); vertical-align: var(--artdeco-reset-base-vertical-align-baseline);"><span id="docs-internal-guid-cfea0b3e-7fff-db22-8073-e88abf1db453"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I have restarted my career thrice successfully, the third one as a Senior Curriculum developer with Chimple learning app at the age of 54. As a student, I did well in academics and was topping the class most of the time. I had a dream of becoming a scientist and working for space programs. I was highly inspired by the Cosmos show presented by Carl Sagan on DD. I had a dream career carved for myself as an astrophysicist. Meanwhile I started coaching children and also embarked on a mini stunt of successfully selling mixers and juicers when I was barely 13 year old. I had tasted the joy of earning at a young age. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But life never goes as we predict it for many of us. I had everything in me to start a great career, but I ended up being a PUC dropout. My marriage was fixed with a guy working in Dubai and the conditions laid down before me were -</span></p><ul style="margin-bottom: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-inline-start: 48px;"><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Do not study further</span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No working outside home </span></p></li><li aria-level="1" dir="ltr" style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; list-style-type: disc; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre;"><p dir="ltr" role="presentation" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">No interacting with men</span></p></li></ul><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Working women carried a stigma in those times in middle class society, especially from where I came. For very few of those who worked other than in schools, we heard juicy gossip very often</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was good at academics but never smart about finances or good choices I could make about my own life. Soon I was married and living the life of someone else. I did a lot of things I did not believe in, just to please people, especially my husband. But again, life is unpredictable. We had a series of cancer running in my family. First my dad was diagnosed with cancer, in 1992, my sister in 1994 and myself in 1996. Believe me, 1998 was dreadful for me though I never expressed it. In between all the chaos, my daughter was diagnosed with special needs in 1995. She was 11 months old when I was diagnosed with cancer. Whew.. that was a hurricane hitting me at full force.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Things started to change soon after cancer. I realized that I had not much control over my life. My husband went back to the gulf during my treatment and I did not hear from him for nearly two years. I was completely confused at that stage. My ego prevented me from approaching him for help. Cancer changed me. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">With a special child to take care and attend to, a bald head due to chemotherapy and no proper education to boast off, I had to look out for a job. Now we see a lot of opportunities created for women as returnees, but back I heard nothing of that sort. Neither had I anything solid to return to. I decided to take up anything that I could do to start off. I started stitching clothes and making soft toys and selling them. It was a huge fall from my dream job, but it worked out well financially. Meanwhile my husband came back from the gulf and continued as though nothing had happened. My own insecurities of going through cancer and not knowing the lifespan I had earned through my treatment, made me keep quiet and welcome the parent. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I did my diploma in Counseling skills and started working part-time as play-therapist and counselor/trainer in schools. Soon all the hell broke loose because I was the woman who broke the promise I made during my marriage. I cheated. I was wronging my husband. I blame myself for the mistake I made all over again. I gave up everything I had created in Bangalore, moved to the village to my husband’s ancestral home to give my marriage, my children and my life a second chance. Being burnt once was not a lesson I learned. Believe me, I am super embarrassed talking about this.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Things started on a positive note, but slowly started to slide down. Once again, I had lost all control over my life. It was difficult coming back to Bangalore because I had no home to stay there. My mom passed away and my family moved to different places. I couldn't find a good job in a village and even if I did, my husband threatened to stop his support if I worked. The accusations of breaking promises came up again and again. On top of it, I had a special child to take care of. It was easy for me to give up and surrender my life to the circumstances. I had enough excuses to make up for not just one but two lives. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">But something in me kept prodding me not to give up. I started again with tuitions for children. I soon became very popular with students from my coaching class doing good not just academically but also in debates and competitions. My son, who was in 10th back then, once asked me why I was not doing something with the skills and talent I had. I told him about the conditions and promises. Believe me, at that young age, he had the wisdom to ask me, “Maa, did you know that you would go through cancer and bring up a special child when you made those promises? Did you expect this life? Don’t you deserve better?”</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I answered, “I do, but how can I break a promise?” But he went to explain to me that there are rules, laws and promises and a consequence for breaking it. What would be the consequence for me breaking the promise? Was it discussed? How would I be rewarded for keeping the promise. Was that discussed. At that moment, I felt stupid. I was holding on to something and suffering for no reason. I decided to pay the fine like millions who break traffic rules everyday. I decided to kick the promise and get back my life.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Meanwhile, I learned about computers and started blogging. I slowly started getting offers for content writing as well. I realized my skills for learning had never diminished, because soon I was very familiar with Microsoft Office and computer functioning. I was good at internet research as well. I had a steady income of my own in a short period of time. I felt like the father of the prodigal son. Wow.. it meant a lot to me. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As my son entered college, I started studying again. I completed my graduation. A lot of threats, pressure, withdrawal of support happened during the period but I did not give up. Two more years and I completed my post graduation as well. Within a month, I landed with a steady job paying me 45K. It was almost 5 times the money my husband sent from Dubai. Since then, I have never looked back financially. I am grateful to my son for giving me the much needed push and also being supportive throughout those days when I studied once again. It was not just the job, but it was my own life I got back again. Like Edmund Hillary said, it is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves. With the security of the job, I could be the main character in my life. Not many who haven’t been where I have been can understand how tough it is to lose your freedom because you are financially dependent on someone else. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I had a dream of starting an inclusive preschool for children. I took the risk and started a preschool and daycare in 2017 with the money I had saved.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I ran a preschool for 3 years with inclusive education. It was tough at the beginning but then I tasted success with good admissions. Unfortunately, the lockdown forced me to close the school. With the future of reopening schools not clear, I started looking for a job once again. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I wanted to make a difference in the education sector for children. I had heard about the Chimple learning app, the winners of X-prize and approached them for a job. I was lucky to be hired in a short period of time and I am very proud to be a part of Mr. Srikanth Talapadi’s team which is making revolutionary changes in early literacy and numeracy for children. I love and respect my job as a Senior Curriculum Developer with Chimple. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Resilience, tenacity and determination helped me get back steady with my career once again at the age of 54. What helped me the most is, even though I was not working at a regular 9-5 job, I never stopped working. I did something or other to keep me engaged like training, coaching, counseling and teaching. I also ran a canteen in a hospital before cancer made me give it away. Even when I was not attending college, I kept learning. I never hesitated to check new waters like the internet and computers. So, when I was ready to work full time, I had enough skills to bring out good results. I never hesitate to learn even to this day. The continuous learning gave me confidence when I was interviewed I could say ‘yes’ to most of the questions. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If the iPhone wouldn’t upgrade as often as it did, would it still be as popular? The same applies to us. Upgrading ourselves is the key to success. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Lock up your excuses and reasons before you think of success. If you have them handy, things will always be difficult to work out. Have a shield against the guilt that will be thrown your way. You are never going to be a hero for making your life and your career a priority.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I may not have achieved the dream of becoming a astrophysicist, but the life I live now is close to it. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What I have to say to anyone who is listening or reading this is - Do not underestimate the power of financial independence. If you are dependent on someone yet you can make your decisions and are in control, then it is fine. If you have to someone's bidding against your own choices because you are dependent on them for your finances, then it is time to wake up and take control of your life. No matter how small you start, it will finally be worth it!</span></p></span></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-89418131918345144882021-09-28T11:36:00.001+05:302021-09-28T11:36:15.589+05:30Now A Dishwasher Is Said To Be Like A Mom, What Next?<p> <span style="background-color: white; color: #2b00fe; font-family: inherit; font-size: large;">My article on Women's Web - </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #2b00fe; font-size: large;">https://www.womensweb.in/2021/09/ifb-dishwasher-ad-like-a-mother-sept21wk2sr/</span></p><p><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; font-weight: bolder;">Shame on the IFB dishwasher ad for stereotyping mothers! I love my children and do take care of them, but that doesn’t mean I have to be ‘dutiful’ all the time.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">At times I wonder why we women have to fight for equality. Isn’t it because we were indoctrinated and conditioned for centuries to feel and think we are inferior? Slowly but steadily, this inferiority of women was accepted by everyone, until few of them woke up.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">This conditioning of women goes on sneakily in the background, without many of us even realizing it.</p><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #212529; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">Let us not even think of Bollywood, which made all <a href="https://www.womensweb.in/2021/05/is-parenting-only-a-mothers-job-may21wk2sr/" rel="noopener" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0077cc; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: none !important;" target="_blank"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bolder;">moms who sacrificed</span></a> themselves the good ones and those who wanted happiness or pursue a career, villains. Things are changing on the Bollywood front a bit, but we still have a far way to go.</p></div><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">But are we in the 21st century progressive enough to realize that a ‘mother’ is not a martyr like species but just any other human being?</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">My thoughts were triggered by the IFB dishwasher ad where they say that their dishwashers function like a Mother.</p><div style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #212529; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><em style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 17px;">Mothers are extraordinary individuals. They don’t settle, they don’t stop, they strive against all odds to deliver what’s best for their loved ones. We, at IFB, don’t just salute their incredible strength and sincerity but also ensure that we function with the same fundamentals. IFB Dishwashers are designed to take care of every little detail, just like a mother. And care is not just a word for us. From providing deep cleaning to hygienic steam drying, 70°C hot wash to built-in water softener, anti-bacterial filter to specially formulated detergents, adjustable baskets to flexible load options; we bring the best of care to you.</em></div><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span class="embed-youtube" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: block; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen="true" class="youtube-player" height="360" sandbox="allow-scripts allow-same-origin allow-popups allow-presentation" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Ql3D_zh1PFQ?version=3&rel=1&showsearch=0&showinfo=1&iv_load_policy=1&fs=1&hl=en-US&autohide=2&wmode=transparent" style="border-style: initial; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box;" width="640"></iframe></span></p><h2 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #ff9933; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 30px; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;">This IFB dishwasher ad needs some re-thinking</h2><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">When the ad cropped up on my game page, I was playing, ignoring everyone around, including my special needs daughter, and I did not have a proper response to it.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">Many tell me I am too old to play games like children. Are they kidding me? I am only 55!</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">Some prod me to <a href="https://www.womensweb.in/2018/11/bollywood-movies-glorifying-mothers-nov18wk2sr/" rel="noopener" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0077cc; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: none !important;" target="_blank"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bolder;">cook healthy meals everyday</span></a> telling me it is my duty. There is a list of chores everyone had for me, but I decided to ignore them, unless I feel like doing them.</p><h4 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #ff9933; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 30px;">WHY must I be pressured into being a ‘good’ mom?</span></h4><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">This AD from IFB was shoved in my face, right when I was not being the person they were describing. I felt it was trying to pressurize me into a role it had carved for me. The pressure is not new. My family did a good job of it, pressuring me to be a good mom, though I never felt the pressure to be a good daughter.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">Why do people create this image of a mother whose sole purpose in life is to take care of everyone other than herself? What happens to those who do not want to fit into the norm? I love my children and do take care of them, but that doesn’t mean I cannot enjoy myself by doing what I like to do, like writing this article here.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">For generations, these subtle messages have influenced many minds. Even me, but it took a lot of experiences for me to step out of the stereotypical roles of Wife, Mother, daughter-in-law, mother-in-law and many more. I don’t care who thinks I am a good person or bad person anymore, as long as I am out of legal crimes for which I can be arrested.</p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">Dear IFB, I would say that your dishwasher needs a better description, you cannot say just like mother. That is not only stereotyping but also demeaning a relationship, which means a lot more. Hope they are listening.</p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-78811394549730072942021-09-28T00:05:00.002+05:302021-09-28T00:06:31.814+05:30Some Bad Things Happened to Me For Good<p> </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ouJ7dv-F6XI/YVIPJIp58kI/AAAAAAAAv6E/OYGQw3TZs0s-qNcx8IaVq319nmUoL7nywCLcBGAsYHQ/s1300/54523661_10218540318437187_62325331289178112_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1300" data-original-width="1295" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ouJ7dv-F6XI/YVIPJIp58kI/AAAAAAAAv6E/OYGQw3TZs0s-qNcx8IaVq319nmUoL7nywCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/54523661_10218540318437187_62325331289178112_o.jpg" width="319" /></a></div><br /><p></p><div class="row" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #212529; display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: -15px; margin-right: -15px;"><div class="col-sm-12" style="-webkit-box-flex: 0; box-sizing: border-box; flex: 0 0 100%; max-width: 100%; min-height: 1px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; position: relative; width: 1140px;"><div class="single-article-title clearfix" style="box-sizing: border-box;"><h1 class="sinlge-artivcal-title float-left" style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; float: left; font-family: inherit; font-size: 30px; line-height: 36px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; width: 1110px;">I’m Thankful To My Bad Marriage & Cancer As They Pushed Me Towards My Freedom! </h1></div><div class="post-summary mt-2 mb-2" style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 0.5rem; margin-top: 0.5rem;"><p style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 16px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">I was a topper but married a man who was uneducated. I had to follow his strange rules that restricted my freedom, but when cancer happened, I said enough!</p></div></div></div><div class="row" id="single-artical-row-2" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #212529; display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 13px; margin-left: -15px; margin-right: -15px; margin-top: 10px;"><div class="col-sm-12" style="-webkit-box-flex: 0; box-sizing: border-box; flex: 0 0 100%; max-width: 100%; min-height: 1px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; position: relative; width: 1140px;"><div class="row" style="box-sizing: border-box; display: flex; flex-wrap: wrap; margin-left: -15px; margin-right: -15px;"><div class="single-artical-content col-sm-12 clearfix" style="-webkit-box-flex: 0; box-sizing: border-box; flex: 0 0 100%; max-width: 100%; min-height: 1px; padding-left: 15px; padding-right: 15px; position: relative; width: 1140px;"><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-weight: bolder;">I was a topper but married a man who was uneducated. I had to follow his strange rules that restricted my freedom, but when cancer happened, I said enough!</span></p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">Today, I am a Senior Curriculum Developer for the app Chimple Learning. We reach out to those who do not have access to schools and educate them in basic literacy and numeracy.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">This may sound very simple. Not a big deal when compared to women who have been to space, ruled the MNC’s or changed the history of nations. What’s the big deal about working and getting paid every month? But the challenges of the past make me treasure this.</p><div style="box-sizing: border-box; margin: 0px 0px 10px;"><h2 style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #ff9933; font-family: inherit; font-size: 30px; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;">Surrendering my freedom as a topper to marry a man who had never entered college</h2><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">My education was in a convent. I was a topper and had high hopes of becoming a scientist, especially in astrophysics. I was a math genius. Seeing the pious nuns who I admired a lot, I never developed the craze for money. Finance was not on my agenda for happiness, success, or freedom.</p></div><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">Strangely, being a high scorer in exams worked as a catalyst for my marriage. My<a href="https://www.womensweb.in/2021/08/life-partner-should-be-modern-in-appearance-but-take-care-like-my-mother-aug21wk2sc/" rel="noopener" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0077cc; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank"> mother</a> was worried I might end up as a mad scientist without a family, and she did not want that tragic ending for her daughter.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">So somehow I got married without completing my PUC to a guy who had never even entered college. Additionally, there were few promises I had made and conditions that I had to agree to:</p><ul style="box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 1rem; margin-top: 0px;"><li style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 17px;">I will not speak to men.</li><li style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 17px;">Cover myself completely when venturing out.</li><li style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 17px;">I will never study ever again.</li><li style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: 17px;">I will never take up a job that requires me to step out of my home. I was only ‘ALLOWED’ to work from home, which meant taking tuitions or stitching clothes.</li></ul><h2 style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #ff9933; font-family: inherit; font-size: 30px; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;">From a math genius to housewife criticized for cooking</h2><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">Today, I wonder what happened? It never actually appeared that way when my mom presented the proposal to me back then. It was an alluring proposal from a handsome guy working in Dubai, but because he was uneducated, he felt his wife should not be highly educated as well. Also, it seemed that since he loved his wife deeply, he was very concerned about other men looking at her.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">My wish to work after marriage was not respected. Why should a woman work when her <a href="https://www.womensweb.in/2021/07/mother-in-law-gives-pocket-money-controls-privacy-july21wk4sc/" rel="noopener" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0077cc; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">husband</a> can provide and take care of her? Only greedy men sent their wives to earn money. In my defense, my mom had high diplomatic skills. Once, someone said, “She can easily sell a set of combs to a bald man”. I loved and trusted her. She believed what she was saying as well.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">So from a girl who was a math genius, who helped her fellow students in studies, and taught math and science to her elder sister (who was three years my senior), I ended up a housewife criticized for not <a href="https://www.womensweb.in/2021/08/who-is-the-real-dependant-most-men-dont-know-basic-survival-skills-like-cooking-yet-women-are-called-dependants/" rel="noopener" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0077cc; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">cooking well</a> and not keeping the house clean. I had thrown away a bright career path I could carve for myself, just like that.</p><h2 style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #ff9933; font-family: inherit; font-size: 30px; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;">The circus of weird rules & respecting those who insulted me!</h2><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">Thus began the circus of being pious, praying, wearing clothes I felt so uncomfortable in, pleasing my husband by following irrational rules set by him, and being respectful to those who were disrespectful to me just because they were older than me.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">It also included my struggle to learn coastal fish cooking and living in a village environment with which I was not familiar. It did not take me long to regret what I had done, but again the diplomacy of my mom worked the magic of keeping me there.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">My husband worked in the gulf, so he was with me only for a few months, after which he would leave for his job. He never took the financial responsibility nor any other though he bought things from the gulf whenever he came from there like clothes, chocolates, and a few things of his choice.</p><h2 style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #ff9933; font-family: inherit; font-size: 30px; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;">I needed money to raise my children…</h2><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">I slowly lost control over not just my freedom but my life itself. My son was born, and I realized I needed a stable source of financial flow than what my husband was sending. I started with tuitions, stitching, and many other odd jobs. Yet, I continued. I started acting out my life rather than living it.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">I was pretending to be a person I was not. There were a lot of differences and fights in our life. Then my daughter was born. She was diagnosed as a special child. Nothing much changed except the proportions of my problems, including the financial needs for her diagnosis, physiotherapy, and others.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">My son had to start school as well. I had to struggle and at times remind my husband, again and again, to send money for our expenditures. I had lost complete control over what was happening to me.</p><h2 style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #ff9933; font-family: inherit; font-size: 30px; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;">Diagnosed with cancer but ego did not allow me to beg husband for help!</h2><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">Then cancer happened. I was the third person in my family to be diagnosed with cancer. In 1992 my dad was diagnosed with Hodgkin’s lymphoma, and in 1994 my elder sister was diagnosed with breast cancer.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">When 1996 I was diagnosed, my sister was already in her last stages of cancer. My husband came down to be with me for my surgery and chemo, saw me undergo drastic changes with total radical mastectomy, hair loss, and went back to the gulf.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">He also witnessed my sister lose her battle with cancer. My mom also went through cancer and lost her life to it. I could not do much to support her financially. I am grateful to him for ignoring my financial needs for two more years because it was only then I fought and snatched back my life not just from cancer but from everything I had given up for it.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">It was a tough climb from there. I started stitching clothes and soft toys, because getting a job with a bald head, a special child, and fighting cancer at the same time was not easy. My ego did not allow me to beg my husband for help.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">I had done that earlier, but cancer changed me. I decided to study once again. I first got my diploma in counselling skills. I ignored the rules and started working. Slowly the income started flowing, and in a few years, I was doing well.</p><h2 style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #ff9933; font-family: inherit; font-size: 30px; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;">I wanted to give my marriage a second chance but I was a fool…</h2><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">I remember this saying– ‘Fool Me Once, Shame On you. Fool Me Twice, Shame On Me’. The first time I made a wrong choice, I was left with a few reasons to feel I was not a fool, but when the second time I did it, I had no excuse.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">I was a fool to fall for the promises and move to my husband’s native village, giving up everything I started once again. I wanted to give my marriage a second chance.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">Life is not a Bollywood movie where people reform on getting a chance. Things slowly slid back to the same old life. I was often threatened by the withdrawal of monthly finances if I broke any of those stupid rules set by my husband. It was not just a threat, he did it very often.</p><h2 style="box-sizing: border-box; color: #ff9933; font-family: inherit; font-size: 30px; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;">I was a ‘villain’ for working but I did not give up</h2><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">It took a lot of courage for me to take the bold step to study once again. I started taking tuitions there. It was difficult to manage with it alone. I started counselling and teaching in a local school. Slowly seeing my skills and talent, my son started prodding me to do something with my life.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;">Of course, I was not allowed to do it, but I took the risk. Even if my husband was not going to send money or support me in any way, I was going to do it. A lot of pressure came from my family as well. I was considered a ‘villain’ breaking the promise I made when I married.</p><p style="box-sizing: border-box; color: black; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><a href="https://www.womensweb.in/2021/08/thankful-to-bad-marriage-cancer-pushed-towards-my-freedom-aug21wk2sc/">Continue Reading Here</a></b></p></div></div></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-29972052740665336532021-09-27T23:59:00.002+05:302021-09-28T00:01:11.700+05:30Of Bladders, Rebellions and Learning Life Lessons <p> Recently I have started sharing my articles on Women's Web .. and this was one of my first posts there. It is about my experience on road on a professional trip. </p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">As a child I would postpone peeing as much as possible. This was because I wouldn’t want to leave a task without completing it, whether it was reading, writing, doing homework, watching TV or playing.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">I would hold back until the task ended and then casually walk towards the restroom. I think this habit of not giving in to the demands of my bladder, tamed it to obey me without rebelling!</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="color: #ff9933; font-size: 30px;">I had tamed the bladder beast and ruled over it</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Even when people around me would go in search of toilets, I would proudly announce, those were not fit for me. Slowly the aversion to unknown toilets became an obsession with my bladder itself refusing to oblige to throw the waste product out even when I tried.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Eventually it became so that I couldn’t pee easily in unknown <a href="https://www.womensweb.in/2021/03/why-are-clean-ladies-toilets-the-last-priority-of-companies-mar21wk2sr/" rel="noopener" style="background-color: transparent; box-sizing: border-box; color: #0077cc; font-weight: 700; text-decoration-line: none;" target="_blank">toilets</a> and had no trouble at times ignoring nature’s call for nearly 36 hours. </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">During hospital emergencies, lab tests etc., it became a big challenge for me to make it happen.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">It was a huge struggle to let it go rather than holding on. So, I became quite vain and proud that I have complete control over the bladder of mine, whereas mere humans and animals surrendered to it. I had tamed this beast and ruled over it. </span></p><h2 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #ff9933; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 30px; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;"> </h2><h2 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #ff9933; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 30px; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;">Everything in our lives has an expiry date</h2><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Years went by and somehow it was in my nature not to use restrooms unless they were very clean and I felt comfortable to use them. Since my daughter is with special needs and cannot use squat toilets, I started using adult diapers for her whenever we travelled.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Due to her mobility challenge, it was difficult for her to access most of the general toilets as well. I don’t know what the public toilets look like or even the toilets in the wedding halls where my son got married were, because I never went towards them. </span><span style="box-sizing: border-box; font-size: inherit;">Both my children also started to avoid using toilets outside home unless it was absolutely necessary. </span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Everything in our lives has an expiry date, no matter how sure we are of it. So finally my rule over the bladder reached its expiration.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"></p><h2 style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #ff9933; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 30px; line-height: 1.2; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 20px;">I felt my bladder whisper…</h2><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">We had to travel to Hanur from Bangalore for training a group of teachers under an educational program we were initiating from our company.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">I was highly excited with this new development and was ready for the journey since 5.30 a.m. Everything went fine and the weather was amazing with slightly drizzling rain. The training went well. </span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Our colleague who stayed in the village nearby organized a great veg-feast for us. We enjoyed our lunch and I had a good amount of fresh buttermilk to go with it.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">I felt my bladder whisper something and decided to check out the toilet but then ignored it, because I knew they were squat toilets and since the past four years I had found it difficult to squat due to my foot injury.</span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box;">Only three hours to Bangalore, not a big deal I decided. My pride and confidence goaded me to ignore the bladder beast completely and get into the vehicle. </span></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: "work sans", sans-serif; font-size: 17px; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><b><a href="https://www.womensweb.in/2021/08/proud-of-my-bladder-control-but-had-to-pray-for-a-toilet-aug21wk1sc/">Continue reading here </a></b></p><p style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-top: 0px;"><span face="work sans, sans-serif"><span style="font-size: 17px;">https://www.womensweb.in/2021/08/proud-of-my-bladder-control-but-had-to-pray-for-a-toilet-aug21wk1sc/</span></span></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-64138093128434624302021-09-21T18:38:00.000+05:302021-09-21T18:38:32.710+05:30#25SilverLinings - Getting Ready for Surgery <p><span style="color: #050505; font-family: arial; white-space: pre-wrap;">It has been quite some time since my last post of 25 Silver Linings. It was an emotional upheaval for everyone at home, and I think I was a bit hesitant to go back there and relive it. But I think I should do it to overcome it permanently.</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-9a57d5fd-7fff-0bd9-557d-735443f00fcc"><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 10pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">My parents and siblings were devastated that I would be losing my whole left breast at age of 29 years. They did not completely agree with my decision to go the allopathy way, though later as I went on surviving, I could say - “I told you so”.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 10pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">My sister who already was fighting cancer which had progressed to the last stages had a tough time knowing I will be fighting it as well. She was worried more about me since I had two children aged 11 months and nearly 5 years. She loved them and worried a lot.</span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="background-color: white; line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt; padding: 0pt 0pt 10pt;"><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7uGiQn7vVGU/YUdV43_B9YI/AAAAAAAAv4w/E1rMyU8W2k88q4SikVqJHhCBdEHfRKAPACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20210918_204238.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img alt="My sister loved my son a lot" border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7uGiQn7vVGU/YUdV43_B9YI/AAAAAAAAv4w/E1rMyU8W2k88q4SikVqJHhCBdEHfRKAPACLcBGAsYHQ/w240-h320/20210918_204238.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sister with her loving Nephew</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="background-color: transparent; color: #050505; font-family: arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">I constantly wore the mask of a brave person, since I did not have anyone with whom I could share my pain, insecurity or fear. </span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: arial; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline;">My husband was kind of frustrated, irritated, angry and complaining all the time. My dad was confused and did not know what to say but I knew he was suffering immensely. My mom was struggling between my sister’s progress of cancer, my decision to proceed with surgery and my children’s future in case something happened to me. My siblings were too young and inexperienced to deal with cancer of two elder sisters in the family. They were kind of broken and emotionally very vulnerable. My children were affected emotionally as well though they did not know exactly what was happening. Farheena was especially very cranky and crying most of the time. <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3cduwnNVCWo/YUdWdOeNG-I/AAAAAAAAv44/0_h1PdiUrUkvf0i_jw4nhjp5tUbmwatTgCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20210918_204309.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1279" data-original-width="2048" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3cduwnNVCWo/YUdWdOeNG-I/AAAAAAAAv44/0_h1PdiUrUkvf0i_jw4nhjp5tUbmwatTgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/20210918_204309.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How could I leave them behind?</td></tr></tbody></table></span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">In all the drama, my parents had to manage the Hospital Canteen I was running at the time, all on their own. Customers who knew the situation reacted in two different ways to this. One group gave them support, the other group started tormenting and bullying them. No matter when or where you are, the devils and angels are always there. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">The hospital was a walking distance from my home, so I decided that I would calmly walk away to the hospital when my parents were not around. They were anyway spending a lot of time in the canteen, struggling to manage it without me. Many had food and did not pay and my parents were emotionally broken to do something about it. The business soon started sucking our funds, rather than bringing in profits. I knew I couldn’t help them manage it in any way for at least 10 more days. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">Saturday afternoon I bathed and dressed up both my children and gave Rayyan some activity to keep him engaged. I fed Farheena and ensured she would sleep when I left. My brother was away but both my sisters were at home with a helper we had engaged. I did not want to tell my sisters either that I was going for my surgery, though they both knew the date and time. I calmly wanted to slip away, but my sister came to my room and started weeping. It is one of the most painful experiences for me and has remained etched in my mind. She was battling cancer which had spread on her chest, and she had to deal with this? How fair was it? It appeared to me that my own diagnosis had hurt her more than her own cancer. I did not know how to console her. I throttled all my emotions and killed them instantly, put up a stoic face and assured her I will be back safely in a few days. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">She came up to the gate with me, while my poor younger sister did not know who to attend to. Was she supposed to say bye to me, take care of my sister or pay attention to my children who were in the house? As I stepped out, my sister hugged me tightly and wept saying let us forgive each other any wrong we had done in the past. I told her we have no such grudges at all… and indeed we did not have any. I had a tough time holding back my own emotions, and I am not sure how I did that. Finally I started walking towards the hospital, not turning back to look at anyone or anything I was walking away from. I did not meet my parents either. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">When we talk about cancer treatment, we just look at the surgery, chemotherapy and radiation part of it. What we ignore is the effect it leaves on the person going through it and their loved ones. I was constantly worried about my family and their emotional state rather than my own surgery. I decided then that I had to be brave, stay strong and get back to them. I still value what my sister said that day and forgive my family whenever something goes wrong - because I feel her tell it to me even now. I decided to be there for my family like my sister had always been, before she entered the last stages of cancer and had to resort to Morphine for managing the pain. All that experience started changing something within me and I know I am not the same person I was before my cancer experience. </span></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><span style="font-family: arial;">When I entered the hospital, the staff who were familiar with me since I visited the hospital twice every week for Farheena’s assessment and therapies were sad and emotional as well. I just sighed and went to the room assigned to me. Soon the medical procedure would start which would get me ready for the surgery on Sunday morning. I decided to resign to whatever was happening because it was beyond me to deal with this. I settled down without worry with my husband being there with me.. all scared and confused as well. </span></span></p><div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-39nJhw3ppz8/YUnXkoYWIOI/AAAAAAAAv5U/UeI64V8Yny0g8dNUD5sBoP1H5KiTGSe8gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20210918_204138%2B%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1579" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-39nJhw3ppz8/YUnXkoYWIOI/AAAAAAAAv5U/UeI64V8Yny0g8dNUD5sBoP1H5KiTGSe8gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/20210918_204138%2B%25282%2529.jpg" width="247" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">At this age, they needed their mom more than I needed my breast.</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QTLFz24c3cQ/YUnXkhvSFlI/AAAAAAAAv5Y/HiKyZWC_vZwaun9oolM0qs0s0iFYjYmHQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20210918_204158.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1551" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QTLFz24c3cQ/YUnXkhvSFlI/AAAAAAAAv5Y/HiKyZWC_vZwaun9oolM0qs0s0iFYjYmHQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/20210918_204158.jpg" width="242" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My sister, as always, taking the lead, and leading us (here me)</td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RyxRS47hPGs/YUnXmn52bAI/AAAAAAAAv5o/nuzzYbtwbUckL7gfdBXmEefIy-idzyf5gCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20210918_204300.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1570" data-original-width="2048" height="245" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RyxRS47hPGs/YUnXmn52bAI/AAAAAAAAv5o/nuzzYbtwbUckL7gfdBXmEefIy-idzyf5gCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/20210918_204300.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tired and exhausted. In fact this was me trying to show my happiness..</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ry5NltBfWX8/YUnXkt2dGNI/AAAAAAAAv5c/ldbJPnvCeBQNFq70HhLddVPmfEpskb0SACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20210918_204212.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1420" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ry5NltBfWX8/YUnXkt2dGNI/AAAAAAAAv5c/ldbJPnvCeBQNFq70HhLddVPmfEpskb0SACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/20210918_204212.jpg" width="222" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Behind is the house that saw a lot of shit happening to my family</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r1jdtkL2t34/YUnXmRmE54I/AAAAAAAAv5k/dF1OuftENcUnMEQx_66pNf_yy9A9MzvlACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20210918_204226.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-r1jdtkL2t34/YUnXmRmE54I/AAAAAAAAv5k/dF1OuftENcUnMEQx_66pNf_yy9A9MzvlACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/20210918_204226.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Looks tired and exhausted as well</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ewwuw85JLho/YUnXmfdOiiI/AAAAAAAAv5g/05KNBoYkVpkTlC1g94RvBjh60G6yloC8QCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20210918_204251.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1438" data-original-width="2048" height="225" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ewwuw85JLho/YUnXmfdOiiI/AAAAAAAAv5g/05KNBoYkVpkTlC1g94RvBjh60G6yloC8QCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/20210918_204251.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Miss those carefree and happy times with my sister...</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-64560849624791694622021-08-02T20:27:00.002+05:302021-08-02T20:27:14.383+05:30#25SilverLinings 9 - Sorting Cancer Related Issues - Wrongway<p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S78FEqkwpNg/UXwrHb9GN4I/AAAAAAAAHY0/Dwp54I-5S8MPobs2wwtnGU5UGLCJ0mg_ACPcBGAYYCw/s1152/falling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1000" data-original-width="1152" height="278" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-S78FEqkwpNg/UXwrHb9GN4I/AAAAAAAAHY0/Dwp54I-5S8MPobs2wwtnGU5UGLCJ0mg_ACPcBGAYYCw/s320/falling.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sometimes the steady ground beneath you is suddenly pulled away and you are not in control anymore! </td></tr></tbody></table><br />I was a bit worried about talking to my surgeon, because he and his wife were familiar and known people. If the drama of the previous hospital would be repeated in BCH & RC (Bangalore Children’s Hospital and Research Center) it would be very embarrassing for me. I had been visiting the hospital for my children’s checkups and medical needs, so most of the people were known to me. It is different to be embarrassed in front of strangers and among friends/familiar people. But there was no escape. Being my husband, his signature was required on the consent form, especially since he had come back from the gulf. My surgeon had also insisted on talking to him.</span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-d39af36f-7fff-21d5-754d-3f29a9ef042f"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I really appreciate one thing about my husband. He made me forget my cancer and my surgery which was due in 3 days. He shifted my focus from cancer to his drama and responses. Great!</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">5.30 p.m, I slowly walked towards the doctor's room, reluctantly with my husband following me. The pediatrician was available. She immediately informed her husband about my arrival and he said he would come in a few minutes. Once he came, he greeted my husband and introduced himself as my surgeon. I sat there holding tightly to the edge of my chair, but then a miracle happened. My grumpy husband seemed happy and he had a smile. I was relieved as though I had overcome cancer itself. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The surgeon explained in simple Hindi the diagnosis, type of cancer, the procedure I had chosen and outcome of it. He explained that though it sounded scary, people lead normal lives both professionally and personally after overcoming cancer. He stressed that the marriage will not be affected if we do not allow it to affect us. I could understand now why he insisted on meeting my husband so much. He may have had previous experiences of how cancer may have affected relationships, either strengthening them or breaking them. He asked my husband’s opinion on total radical mastectomy which I had chosen or conservation of breast, which was another option. My husband said, “You can go ahead with what she has chosen. I am OK with it”. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Everything went smoothly and things got finalized. I was supposed to come to the hospital on Saturday evening. The preparation for the surgery would start then. I would be in the operation theater at 9.30 a.m on 28th of April. Relieved I walked out telling my husband I will be at the billing counter. Then I realized he doesn’t know where the billing counter is and turned back. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Will cancer spread to other people?” I heard my husband asking the doctor. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No, cancer is not contagious. It is a known fact”, the doctor tried to assure him. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“ errr ummm I mean it will not even affect any person who is close to one going through cancer?” </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“No” the doctor was being irritated by now, because he could see me through the door and knew I was listening to this conversation, whereas my husband had his back towards me. The doctor did not know my husband because he had flown down from Abu Dhabi only the day before I went in for my surgery but he knew me very well. His wife was a pediatrician where my daughter was being treated and receiving her physiotherapy. The couple was familiar to me and he had shown great support during my diagnosis. At this moment he was not feeling comfortable. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The doctor very well knew my husband was referring to sex between couple and whether cancer could spread to the spouse if the couple had sex. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When my husband tried to open his mouth again he said very firmly, “I know what you are saying. No, cancer doesn’t spread through any means. So far no one has caught cancer through close contact or things like having sex, kissing, touching, sharing meals from a person going through cancer. In fact, cancer cells cannot survive in another person’s body because their immune system will detect and kill foreign cells”. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He paused to see if the person who he was talking to was able to understand and believe him. He continued, “Your wife will lead a normal life. She can go for breast reconstruction if ‘she’ wants it after she recovers from treatment. She will do fine and this will be just a hurdle to be overcome”. I love the way he stressed the point “she” in the sentence. He moved away, showing he did not want to continue the conversation.</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My husband came out of the doctor’s office and saw me standing there. His expressions went through a lot of changes before he said, “You did not catch cancer from your sister. Doctor just said it is not contagious”. Smart! One point for that. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">“Really? You just stole me the pleasure of accusing my sister of infecting me, especially now that she is going through terminal stage and suffering enough”. I can’t help being sarcastic. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">My husband looked away. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I know I sounded bitter, but the bitterness had seeped into my whole being like some poison - an ugly, sticky, smelly poison. All I felt at that moment was a great humiliation. No sadness, no anger, no hatred, nor fear, just pure and loathsome humiliation. I bit my lips and did not flare up with anger because cancer had put reins on me. I needed to go through the treatment and manage my children as well. This was no time for ego stroking, or for kicking the husband out of life. This was the time to assure your husband that you will not infect him. No one who has not been there will ever understand how traumatic it can be to a woman, especially to the one who has a strong streak of ego flowing in her being to remain silent when she wants to flare up and let those emotions out. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I remembered how my husband had been so worried and crying since the day he came. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">So he had been worried and kept to himself, occasionally shedding tears until the doctor confirmed that cancer is not contagious. How hypocritical we are! How shallow are our relationships! </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Today, I don’t accuse him of doing wrong. He did not know about cancer, naturally, it scared the shit out of him. He was at loss not knowing what will happen, how I will respond to the treatment or how much the treatment is going to cost him. He was also not sure that allopathic treatment was the right choice. I can understand the part where he wanted to be sure that he would not be infected by me. It was the way he went about it that hurt me. He should have trusted me. He should have either brought up the topic in front of me in the doctor’s office, or discussed it with him making sure I would not know about it by asking me to leave him alone with the doctor. He could have asked me about the disease as well. That would have made a hell of difference in the way I felt about it. When a person is dealing with a life threatening disease, it is not much to ask for people (especially those who do not stop telling you how much they care) to show some consideration and not hurt that person. But then, we are humans. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">BTW, the elephant in the room was addressed that day by him. Yeah! I have been there and done that. Yet, I don’t feel ashamed today since I have come a long way from there. I have survived everything and today I stand strong. I have to confess though that it takes a lot of effort and a rush of blood to my face to write these feelings down. </span></p><div><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-54617260069192831862021-07-31T01:00:00.000+05:302021-07-31T14:59:10.502+05:30Happy Birthday Dear Sister<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Happy Birthday dear <a href="http://chaptersfrommylife.blogspot.com/2009/06/13-years-ago-breast-cancer-snuffed-life.html">sister</a>. You are no more with us physically but your presence surrounds us all the time. You would have been 58 years old today and I know how you would have hated that. You will always remain young in our hearts …..</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">How can a person so full of life and so bubbly be dead? I still haven’t come to terms with that fact. For me it will never be a fact at all. I still recall most of the naughty and silly things we did as kids. I remember the day we hid on the attic behind the coconut shells because we did not want to go back to Bangalore leaving our pet fishes behind in our native village - Byndoor. How you always wanted everything around us to be fair. The way you divided our double bed into two parts with a rope or sometimes a string running between us.. (I could never keep to my side of it because I always twisted and turned in sleep). </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">How fiercely you fought to win the game of gatta. What made you not fight cancer that way? Thank God Mommy intervened the day we tried to crush hands of a girl on grinding stone for cheating in a game. I can remember all those incidents just as though it had happened yesterday. The way you used to laugh out loud when you found something funny about a person and especially the look they would have on their faces. They were always confused about how they should react. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Whatever you were … you were not a hypocrite. You were one of those people who could wail and cry in the same way you could laugh. Remember the day your favorite cassette was accidentally erased by Sajid? LOL. I really could not believe what I heard that day. At first I thought you were joking, but then realized it was a real whine and a cry. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Even when going through BC you celebrated every time you found out something positive .. like the wound healing a bit, or you not feeling much pain etc. How many parties did you throw while you suffered with BC? You made everyone believe that nothing will happen to you. I think you were right. BC has not done anything much to you. You are still there beautiful, young, happy, naughty woman laughing away .. having your way as usual in hearts of all the people who have known you. <div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span class="Apple-style-span" face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Love you always.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" face=""arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif">Whenever I see<a href="http://chaptersfrommylife.blogspot.com/2011/08/happy-birthday-to-my-son.html"> Rayyan</a>, I think of you. You were so fussingly loving towards him. You made him a special prince of our home. I try to keep him that way always. You had little time with Farheena, and that too was between fighting cancer. Yet, you showered her with love. You were very proud of both of them. </span></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Time has no effect on your memories. They are bright with me as though they were created just yesterday. You will stay with me as long as my mind can remember something. </div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">Wishing you happy birthday dear sister.......................</div><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XIk0ITB_i2w/YQUWwPCkvjI/AAAAAAAAvwk/ZagFeRU1KUE7ZcrPTUYF-4745wzr9ZanQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20190606_202042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1152" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XIk0ITB_i2w/YQUWwPCkvjI/AAAAAAAAvwk/ZagFeRU1KUE7ZcrPTUYF-4745wzr9ZanQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20190606_202042.jpg" /></a></div><br /><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wpn9Vvn31pY/YQUXB-WLeZI/AAAAAAAAvww/t-rk3HKDTD8FyP0ovECzF2t9btjhKbTHACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20190707_144459.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1536" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-wpn9Vvn31pY/YQUXB-WLeZI/AAAAAAAAvww/t-rk3HKDTD8FyP0ovECzF2t9btjhKbTHACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20190707_144459.jpg" width="320" /></a><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h5To9hanoAw/YQUW7AsZglI/AAAAAAAAvwo/OrEX_f-nYucC9Xqy2VC9FPLjE4GO-l_mACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/IMG_20190707_143945.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-h5To9hanoAw/YQUW7AsZglI/AAAAAAAAvwo/OrEX_f-nYucC9Xqy2VC9FPLjE4GO-l_mACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_20190707_143945.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br /><div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on"><br />
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-24635022185476751222021-07-10T00:48:00.002+05:302021-07-10T00:48:23.850+05:30#25SilverLinings 8 - Doctor Checkup Dilemma<p><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">I knew the next morning, something about the relationship which was already shaking had changed and it was never going to be the same again. We both behaved normally as if there was no elephant in the room, and soon I got ready to go to Bangalore Institute Of Oncology for another opinion just to satisfy my husband. The doctor who was about to see me was a jovial person and kept laughing throughout our talks with him. I cannot say that was encouraging, though I know he put efforts to lift the patient's spirit. He wanted to check the biopsy report and also the spot where the lump was located. </span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-1a6b8fc9-7fff-7b81-691f-a9a574aa920d"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">By now, I was used to check-ups of breasts by doctors. Those precious secret mounds were no more so secretive and had been fumbled with too often in the past month. But for the guy accompanying me, this was new. For someone who believed that women should be in a burkha, a man feeling her breasts was not easy to digest. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">He panicked and asked, “How do you think he's going to do the check-up? Will he feel and touch you?”. I actually had to answer that question because he continued looking at me.. seeking an answer from me. After a while I answered, “Yes, that is how check-ups are done”. I could see the change of expression which turned into a mix of frustration, anger and jealousy. “You should have told me this earlier” he said, sounding as though I hid something from him on purpose. I just kept quiet because I knew I couldn’t handle this now. I was already scared, tired and worried about the surgery happening in 3 days, and this was not something I wanted to deal with. “Are there no female oncologists? You should have taken an appointment with a lady doctor”, he continued. “I don’t think the gender of the doctor matters. They are professionals”. I had to say something since it was getting uncomfortable to keep quiet as well. “It does. You ask for a lady doctor or nurse to check you up. I don’t want him doing it. He looks like a flirt”. I saved myself from saying anything more by being called in for the check-up. I went in without solving his issue with the male doctor because I did not want to. It was not important for me now. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Honestly, it is not easy for anyone to get adjusted to the hospital experience, especially when you go through something as serious as cancer. Even childbirth can be tough, but at least you are already familiar with the doctor for the past few months. The whole procedure of checkups can take its tiny toll on our minds. Not many understand this. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I changed into a hospital gown. The check up was done which was unnecessary because the surgery was already scheduled and I was going ahead with it. Now, I had to go back and face the guy outside once again. Life seemed unfair and tough at that time when I was wearing my clothes with the nurse waiting to help me in case I needed her. She saw my expression and came over to assure me that everything was going to be alright. I told her, “it would be the day they discover cure for hate, stupidity and insensitivity, and a way to fix stupid husbands” and we both laughed at that and walked out. Seeing me smiling along with the nurse, my husband was irritated, but before he could open his mouth, we were ushered into the Doctor’s cabin for further discussion. He wanted to know about my schedule of operation and whether I would prefer to get it done in a specialized onco hospital. He tried to explain how dangerous it was to get operated in a hospital which was not specialized for cancer treatment. In short, he was trying to promote him as my surgeon, but he scared my husband a bit, because he started to believe that I had made a foolish choice by deciding to operate in a pediatric hospital. I told the doctor, “I will think over what you have explained and get back to you tomorrow”. I knew I would call and tell him that I am going ahead with my previous plans. He insisted on speaking to the head of BCH&RC and I shared the number with him. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the way back my husband was grumpy, angry and mumbling something which I couldn’t hear. Later he said, “I feel very bad about that guy checking your breast. That is too intimate, He was joking something with the nurse as well and then you both were laughing. I think it is wrong for a male doctor to check you up”. I answered, “Yes, I think so too. Let us cut that breast and throw it off after a few days. It has been spoiled by his touch anyway”. That somehow shut him off. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.3800000000000001; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The next day, I had to talk to my surgeon, Dr. Murad Lala regarding the scheduled surgery. He also wanted to talk to my husband and explain the surgical procedure, future care and many other things post cancer treatment to him. He was a friendly person and had a good sense of humor, the kind that did not make you uncomfortable but could put a smile on your face. He was a young and energetic person and now that scared me. Since he did not have a special cabin, we usually consulted him in his wife’s cabin since she worked in the hospital as a pediatrician. After my experience with the checkup the previous day, I was worried what I would have to handle the next day again. I realized that already my worries were not about cancer or surgery that is staring at me, but about something or someone else. Disease, illness, wounds and other ailments are not as bad as toxic people or relationships, since no one ever tries to cure it or understands the pain it causes. No one would tell me to tolerate cancer, right? They would ask me to seek a cure and get well soon. What if I was suffering in a wrong relationship? They would tell me to continue to suffer. Something to think over……………..</span></p><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gNw5GxyKavM/YOigPGVZYZI/AAAAAAAAvt0/bmCwbtjMprcwy0FZ8lLbk7sgLZ_KwkwbgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1964/192331089_10226131729097709_6168769121383697438_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1964" data-original-width="1338" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gNw5GxyKavM/YOigPGVZYZI/AAAAAAAAvt0/bmCwbtjMprcwy0FZ8lLbk7sgLZ_KwkwbgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/192331089_10226131729097709_6168769121383697438_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;">The 11 month old daughter definitely gave me enough energy and strength to put up with all the nonsense.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ytMFv2Buf8E/YOigPEo4GuI/AAAAAAAAvt4/qvlp32uWIJo1jcUnWAQ4n1Ur4IXXCE7HwCLcBGAsYHQ/s692/213078858_10226131726297639_7724207098719524715_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="608" data-original-width="692" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ytMFv2Buf8E/YOigPEo4GuI/AAAAAAAAvt4/qvlp32uWIJo1jcUnWAQ4n1Ur4IXXCE7HwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/213078858_10226131726297639_7724207098719524715_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;">I somehow feel I look quite stupid in those days, before Rayyan's wisdom rubbed off on me.</span></td></tr></tbody></table><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ImXe4r0YzCo/YOigPfiVnuI/AAAAAAAAvt8/UO5u5Jtbvec7Ptuem1PhXNHPyyvy_nZcwCLcBGAsYHQ/s361/192805344_10226131721497519_8472763652530052821_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="361" data-original-width="288" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ImXe4r0YzCo/YOigPfiVnuI/AAAAAAAAvt8/UO5u5Jtbvec7Ptuem1PhXNHPyyvy_nZcwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/192805344_10226131721497519_8472763652530052821_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;">I usually wonder why they deck the bride so? There must be some hidden meaning to all of this drama.<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table></div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-60873919479931265672021-05-19T20:18:00.003+05:302021-05-19T20:18:50.753+05:30#25SilverLinings - The Elephant In The Room<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g4TpWMJVf3Y/YKUlEauQ9xI/AAAAAAAAvjI/ALRyTX0dVJIEGjChzuslXeBAYkMxyc6aACLcBGAsYHQ/s445/main-qimg-6f0bfaa00c9eb5d98ef8c5bf22105244.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="357" data-original-width="445" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g4TpWMJVf3Y/YKUlEauQ9xI/AAAAAAAAvjI/ALRyTX0dVJIEGjChzuslXeBAYkMxyc6aACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/main-qimg-6f0bfaa00c9eb5d98ef8c5bf22105244.png" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="background-color: white; clear: both; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: center; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></div>Money talks or lures many men to work abroad, especially in the Gulf, leaving their family behind. That works well until they get married and have children. Many of them are not around to attend the funeral of their parents, birth of their child or during the challenging times to lend a shoulder to their wife. Rizwan was one of them. He missed the death of his parents and birth of both his children. He had moved to UAE at a very young age, maybe 18, and spent the majority of his life there. In our 7 years of marriage, we had been together for a short time. Unfortunately even the little time we spent together was not quality time since there were always issues to be resolved. His family never hid the fact that they disliked me since the day he announced he was marrying me for reasons known better to them. They always created a lot of stress in our relationship, and at times I would get tired of explaining things to him about what actually happened when he was not around. Most of our post married life was spent resolving issues, either related to us or his family.<p></p>Now, what usually happens with these couples who stay apart for say 16 -24 months at a stretch, sex becomes something they look forward to when they meet. I feel that is a natural response for any couple. <br />In my life, when cancer had raised its ugly head, my daughter with special needs and the crying husband who was withdrawing into a shell, sex became an elephant in the room. I did not know how to address this issue. Should it happen, should it not happen was the dilemma. I was confused about handling this issue. The elephant was there but we both were not addressing it. I was worried about his response and he was crying silently and looking completely worried, not excited or aroused at all. <br />I was very confused about my role. I had no idea what was the right thing to do. I decided to take the back seat. Now I cannot mention what he was thinking, because people’s thoughts are hidden from us. I am damn sure if that was not the case, then Thanos did not have to make the effort to wipe out half of the population. People would do that for Thanos. Ignorance is bliss and the reason the human population is growing. <br />We were sitting silently in our room, since it was decided that we would go for a second opinion the next day and since I agreed there was nothing more to continue the conversation. My sister came to speak to him. He was saddened to see her. She was upset that I had not given him a good bedsheet, and ordered someone to get it for him. He still remembers her gesture and mentions it at times. She was in pain and was on Morphine and for someone talking to her after a long time, the effects of cancer’s progress were too striking. I could see both fear and sadness in my husband. <br />We had our dinner silently. Tomorrow I would go to an oncologist for a third opinion (not second)- I already had opinions from two doctors. As we retired, the elephant remained in the room. For me at that moment, sex was not a pleasure, a need but an assurance that things were OK with me. Somehow, breast cancer and the talks surrounding it had made me feel as though I am losing my femininity rather than a breast. The assurance was not happening and I wasn’t going to seek it either since my ego was bigger than an elephant. It always has been and I saw that cancer had not touched it. I was only losing my breast and not my pride.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RBI_NBebCng/YKUlOFbYkeI/AAAAAAAAvjM/srl8fbZ1yF4bWQnXPO1Vz6y6QudZXsfNACLcBGAsYHQ/s1884/hurt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="546" data-original-width="1884" height="116" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RBI_NBebCng/YKUlOFbYkeI/AAAAAAAAvjM/srl8fbZ1yF4bWQnXPO1Vz6y6QudZXsfNACLcBGAsYHQ/w400-h116/hurt.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><br /><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-26756463095774150632021-05-11T00:00:00.016+05:302023-05-11T11:49:43.729+05:30Happy Birthday Dear Daughter <br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jMX8xyfreWM/VzIafor08lI/AAAAAAAAbD4/8Qii5Nq79sEVuvoYUkWrifSSTI1ortbNACLcB/s1600/f.png" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jMX8xyfreWM/VzIafor08lI/AAAAAAAAbD4/8Qii5Nq79sEVuvoYUkWrifSSTI1ortbNACLcB/s320/f.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr></tbody></table><p><span style="font-family: inherit;">Just a few days ago I was holding a little baby in my hands… so calm and peaceful she lay asleep that I could not believe it was my own baby. OH NO!!! it was not a few days ago. It has been freaking 28 years now. What year is it? 2023???? Ok! I was holding her in 1995.. Wow! </span></p><div></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">It seems just like a few days ago. I can still feel her warmth, smell the baby's smell, and hear her baby snore. So my baby is turning into a fine young princess or precisely a Queen. </span></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">When doctors told me she was a special girl, I did not have any trouble believing them. She was special and I could see that in a different way than what they meant. As days changed into months and months into years, she proved to be special in every way. I have seen her bring out the best in people. Even the not-so-good ones. She has a smile and love for everyone in the world. She doesn’t know the barriers of countries, caste, creed, color, money, status, age, etc. Not even the importance of the human race LOL. For her all creations of God are equal. For her everyone with a ‘HI’ is a friend. Anyone with anger, scowl or growl is ‘Me happy no’. So simple is life in her terms just like her language. To be happy, sad, and angry just happens naturally. No drama. Nope. I remember her saying bye to the ceiling fan before shutting it off. Saying sorry to a pencil for dropping it down.</span></div><div></div><div><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal">I love the way Farheena greets the day with her unique sentence, "Tomorrow has happened!" There are many things that only Farheena can say or do, especially the unconditional and limitless love she shares with people around her. </div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rh8Hh7uUYqc/UnlY8W8BqvI/AAAAAAAAIIY/zhURV5T4Gxc/s1600/1%2B-%2BCopy%2B-%2BCopy.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rh8Hh7uUYqc/UnlY8W8BqvI/AAAAAAAAIIY/zhURV5T4Gxc/s320/1%2B-%2BCopy%2B-%2BCopy.jpg" width="235" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">With her medals and certificate</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Though life began with loads of challenges for Farheena, nothing can stop her from being happy. Today, Farheena does not talk fluently, but she does communicate in her own way and style. She can see clearly. She walks with little help. Farheena manages her own life and keeps in touch with friends of her choice through the Internet. Facebook and recently WhatsApp are her favorites. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">When Rayyan got married last November, she couldn't be part of all the fun due to the mobility challenge but once home, she organized games for Madiha and all of us and enjoyed to the fullest. She also got pictures of Madiha in different poses on the flower-decorated bed. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">She embraced her sister-in-law with all love and Madiha did the same. I love the picture of them below. Madiha and Farheena have a special bond unlike any I have seen.</span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZDWrCwK-0uc/YJl4Jg_8iqI/AAAAAAAAvgw/-YqbYHhmZRM4jq6sJ0jLdlhrSBiJHWnIACLcBGAsYHQ/s516/IMG_7490.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="516" data-original-width="401" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZDWrCwK-0uc/YJl4Jg_8iqI/AAAAAAAAvgw/-YqbYHhmZRM4jq6sJ0jLdlhrSBiJHWnIACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/IMG_7490.jpg" /></a></div><br /><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">With little words she can pronounce or spell, she uses her creativity to convey messages to us. Her lack of complete vocabulary has not stopped her from communicating with people. She keeps trying until she is understood. </span></div><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yrsUPiA9d8E/UrHY_UNZIHI/AAAAAAAAIOc/XasZSayy5Dg/s1600/WP_20131218_015.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="289" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yrsUPiA9d8E/UrHY_UNZIHI/AAAAAAAAIOc/XasZSayy5Dg/s320/WP_20131218_015.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">Sharing her friend's secret with her baby doll Annie</td></tr></tbody></table><br />2015 marked a new Era of my life because this was the year when Farheena walked in with the first Salary she received for making paper bags in <a href="http://www.ystindia.org/">YST</a> which is now Fame Swalambhana. She is involved in lot more activities now.<br /><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FEv9HSb86rc/Vg4-OQiM0LI/AAAAAAAARZw/K1vq7QTc3qA/s1600/P_20150726_193014.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FEv9HSb86rc/Vg4-OQiM0LI/AAAAAAAARZw/K1vq7QTc3qA/s400/P_20150726_193014.jpg" width="205" /></a></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">That was the biggest goal of my life achieved. People who do not understand the whole concept often ask me, “How much does she earn?” That is not important. What makes it important for me as a mother is to know that she is now capable of being engaged in fruitful and purposeful work throughout the day. Apart from her job at Fame Swalambhana , With lockdown shutting of her vocational center, she started her online shopping for friends, helping them find what they need and selling few products. She loves earning in her own simple way. She doesn't surrender to being completely dependent. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span lang="EN-US"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3oce7tcoh_4/WvSkOiNOxpI/AAAAAAAAnCA/Bn4O_ZFpUiUhwGsxPs9AMDOpn5Z_v-AIACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_20180310_120653.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="900" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-3oce7tcoh_4/WvSkOiNOxpI/AAAAAAAAnCA/Bn4O_ZFpUiUhwGsxPs9AMDOpn5Z_v-AIACLcBGAs/s320/IMG_20180310_120653.jpg" width="180" /></a></span></div><span lang="EN-US">My inspiration in 2023 or any year is my special daughter Farheena who has not allowed anyone to take her for granted. She knows how to protect herself and when to ask for help if someone is bothering her. She carries herself with the dignity of a queen and is proud of her achievements. She can make people feel like somebody special. Moreover, unlike many people I know, she loves and respects herself.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">She showed society's effect on special people, inspiring me to start an inclusive preschool - My Giggle Garden. She has ignited a passion in me to make our society more inclusive for special people like her. </span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">20 years ago, I consulted a lawyer regarding my legal rights. During the course of the discussion, I mentioned that I am proud of my daughter. The lawyer then retorted saying, “Stop lying to yourself Farida. Come out of the delusion you are living in. No one can be proud of a special needs child. You can accept and love her but cannot be proud of her”. I was confused back then and walked away without answering her. I knew I felt pride in my heart when I thought of my daughter, but I was not sure. <o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Today, I can very confidently say that I am very proud of my daughter. She has taught me a vital lesson in my life – <b>it is not what you get in your life that matters, but what you do with what you have which makes the difference</b>. I know she will also continue to inspire me in the coming years.<o:p></o:p></span></div><div class="MsoNormal"><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">People who do not see what she sees make all those unnecessary exclamations that have sadly changed her. But inside she is still the same baby with a fiery temper that lasts for a few minutes. It has always been easy to make her happy and smile so is it easy to make her sad and cry. I hope that everybody connected to her will understand her innocence and make her always smile without hurting her … even when I am not around. I send a silent prayer to God to take of our (she just partially belongs to me) little angel always………..</span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;">There is a story I would like to share with you, which has always helped me deal with my daughter for all these years. Helped me to restrain myself from making changes to her. Not wanting to progress in a hurry. Deep in my heart, I know there is reason for everything happening around us.</span></div><div></div><div><i>A man strolling through his garden found a cocoon of a butterfly. He would watch it every day. One day a small opening appeared. He sat and watched the butterfly for several hours as it struggled to force its body through the little hole. Then it seemed to stop making any progress. It appeared as if it had gotten as far as it could and could go no farther.</i></div><div><i>Then the man decided to help the butterfly. He took a pair of scissors and snipped the remaining bit of the cocoon. The butterfly then emerged easily. Something was strange. The butterfly had a swollen body and shriveled wings. The man continued to watch the butterfly because he expected at any moment, the wings would enlarge and expand to support the body, which would contract in time. Neither happened. In fact, the butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and deformed wings. It was never able to fly.</i></div><div><i>What the man in his kindness and haste did not understand was that the restricting cocoon and the struggle required for the butterfly to get through the small opening of the cocoon are God's (Read "Nature's" if that comforts you) way of forcing fluid from the body of the butterfly into its wings so that it would be ready for flight once it achieved its freedom from the cocoon. Sometimes, Struggles are exactly what we need in our life. If God ("Nature", for those who don’t believe in supreme power) allowed us to go through all our life without any obstacles, that would cripple us. We would not be as strong as we could have been. Not only that, we could never fly.</i></div><div><i>(Source of story: Unknown)</i></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i></i></span></div><div><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>Have a happy flight Farheena… you have squeezed enough power in your wings now. </i>Wishing my dear girl a pleased 14th Birthday.</span></div></div><div class="MsoNormal">I am thrilled to <b>share the story </b>of my hope and happiness with people who may feel overwhelmed by the challenges in their lives. Hang on and fight with all your might! You will succeed.<br /><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GvKnP7qIDZo/UnlY9Hl8-nI/AAAAAAAAIIU/2GTKV9slQXU/s1600/scan0053.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-GvKnP7qIDZo/UnlY9Hl8-nI/AAAAAAAAIIU/2GTKV9slQXU/s320/scan0053.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">The pretty Baby</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WqFPJyZsERo/UnlZBPatYbI/AAAAAAAAIIw/8FeHQKLQuto/s1600/farheena.bmp" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-WqFPJyZsERo/UnlZBPatYbI/AAAAAAAAIIw/8FeHQKLQuto/s320/farheena.bmp" width="177" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Loves to dress up</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ykZYYXBWXnA/UnlY0_o-hCI/AAAAAAAAIIA/2wVkOd4j4ic/s1600/IMG_0229.JPG" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ykZYYXBWXnA/UnlY0_o-hCI/AAAAAAAAIIA/2wVkOd4j4ic/s320/IMG_0229.JPG" width="190" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Determined to get on her feet after triple<br />fusion surgery on ankles</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-piHd-6DOy7E/UnlYm64tebI/AAAAAAAAIHI/tCyPQ_3Nobs/s1600/100_5509.jpg" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-piHd-6DOy7E/UnlYm64tebI/AAAAAAAAIHI/tCyPQ_3Nobs/s1600/100_5509.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px; text-align: center;">Making her style statement</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gShnP8FEHlQ/UnlYsYi8ttI/AAAAAAAAIHw/9oYfuLvLqWM/s1600/Copy%2B%25282%2529%2Bof%2B230820081389.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gShnP8FEHlQ/UnlYsYi8ttI/AAAAAAAAIHw/9oYfuLvLqWM/s320/Copy%2B%25282%2529%2Bof%2B230820081389.jpg" width="282" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="font-size: 12.8px;">One of those rare days when she cleans<br />our home</td></tr></tbody></table><div class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><br /></span></div><br /><div class="MsoNormal"></div><br /><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-84172488250855620362021-05-06T19:26:00.003+05:302021-05-06T19:26:55.772+05:30 #25SilverLinings - The Knight In Shining Armour<p><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: inherit; font-size: 15px; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was waiting for the 25th of April 1996, when my husband would arrive from Abhu Dhabi. From the start of our relationships, we had our differences, issues and fights, but then we were also the closest two people can get. We shared sex, affection, love and care for each other. We shared the parenthood of two lovely children. He was the man who was responsible for me and my children, so the burden had to ease when he came, right? He was supposed to be the Knight in shining armour during my fight with a monster called cancer. </span></p><div class="o9v6fnle cxmmr5t8 oygrvhab hcukyx3x c1et5uql ii04i59q" style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; margin: 0.5em 0px 0px; overflow-wrap: break-word; white-space: pre-wrap;"><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">He first went to his home in Byndoor and paid a visit to his Mom’s grave before coming to Bangalore with his brother. When he came, Farheena was asleep and Rayyan greeted him happily. He was so proud to show off his beautiful sister to his dad. I was busy with the pending cancer treatment and did not pay much attention to get him ready for Farheena. I should admit that I never felt a need to get anyone ready to meet Farheena. I completely forgot what effect a daughter with special needs would have on her father seeing her for the first time when she was 11 months old. Unfortunately, he was not ready for all the challenges that he was facing, especially a special needs girl child, his mom's death and my cancer all rolled into one. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">When I was looking forward to assurance, support and strength from him, the first thing he did was break down and cry. I felt sorrow surging in me as well and I was on the verge of tears. I consoled him and felt sorry, but the darling he is, he has this habit of changing my feelings quickly, especially when he opens his mouth to talk. He never allows me to feel bad for him for long. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">“Why me?” he asked, “First Allah gives me a disabled daughter(that was not an acceptable term), after a few months my mom died and now my wife has cancer. I haven’t done anything wrong. Why is he punishing me?” </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">Good for me, because the tears I was about to shed along with him started to retrace their steps. Suddenly I had my sarcastic humour taking charge of the situation. I am not sure whether I was fair or not, but it happens to me very often. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">“Darling, you must have done something bad and forgotten it. Maybe God knows why he is doing this. He is almighty and just and punishes only the wrong people, you yourself said so few days ago, right?”. Yeah, I was sarcastic, because sarcasm is my mother tongue. Whenever I am pissed off I talk in my mother tongue. I am who I am, fair or not. In our real lives, everyone is right in their own way. I don’t think he did not have the right to grieve, but I also had my right to find one shoulder to lean on. So, bad things happen between people, intentionally or unintentionally. This was the start of something which I never wanted in my life, but like cancer it happened. The cracks started to appear. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I was pissed off because he was not seeing that it was me who was supposed to fight for my life, who needed support and who was scared. It was all about him and how he was being punished or whatever that was. Now besides my family, I had one more person to console, convince and take care of. The word Mazoor (meaning disabled) was not something I expected to hear regarding Farheena. We avoided negative words, especially because Rayyan was a very sensitive child. I was hearing it for the first time and I was not happy about it either. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">But I calmed myself down in a short span of time, because I had to go through my surgery, keep other chaotic people calm in our home, take care of my children for 10 days of hospitalization which the doctor said was required. I realized this was not the time to be pissed off but to be sensible in handling the Knight who was throwing tantrums about his fate. So, I again went back to consoling him, assuring him everything will be OK and not to worry. This again triggered a lot more complaints from him</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">“I bought this netted lingerie with so much love. Now you will never be able to wear it”. (yes darling, rub salt in my wound). I replied, “let us wait and see how life turns out. We don’t know. We did not expect bad things to happen but it did, in the same way something good can happen as well”. (Like all of a sudden you become a more sensible person to give me support with different vocabulary). </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">He came out with a lot of plans he had - the only time he had them was when it wouldn’t work out for us- and how disappointed he was. He was the saddest of all the people around me then. I was consoling him when Farheena woke up. Another torrent of questions started pouring out</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">“What is wrong with her?”</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">“Can she talk?” </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">“Can she walk?” </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">“What can we do to fix her?”</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I invoked the mother of all patience I had in me, to answer him calmly. I think he was very nervous and I pitied him as well. I told him, “We can get back to Farheena and her treatment after tackling the issue on hand right now, that is my cancer and surgery scheduled in 2 days”.</div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">He then came up with a shocking suggestion - “Can you postpone the surgery so that we can check out what alternative medicines we have. Someone mentioned that there is a guy in Kerala who heals cancer, let us try that out before removing the breast”. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">I knew here I had to be very firm, much more firmer than the breasts are in our teen years. I told him sternly, “This is my choice of tackling cancer. I am not trying anything else. No use trying to change my mind now when the surgery is scheduled in 2 days”. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">“How about a second opinion?” he asked pleading, “maybe this is not cancer. Maybe they made a mistake in diagnosis”. I agreed, though I was very sure that without the lump and only the biopsy report to go by, the doctor himself will not have any other choice but to say out loud what is written in the report. But at that stage, it was tough explaining things to him, so I agreed to visit a doctor the next day in another oncology hospital. </div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;">He continued with his droopy face, teary eyes and grief. I was now trying to feed Farheena with bottle milk and I looked at the person who was supposed to be my Knight in shining armour. All of sudden he reminded me of a knight -Don Quixote and I smiled. Farheena returned my smile very sweetly. At that moment I knew I had to smile and go through this for my little ones. I brought forth my own armour and decided to be my own Knight hereafter. That was another silver lining for me.<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L0U5PyZwzOc/YJP1HkngOmI/AAAAAAAAvgM/70t7eEAJmTAusIJjTfy9pCKqNx6tRnTFwCLcBGAsYHQ/s587/13.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="587" data-original-width="419" height="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-L0U5PyZwzOc/YJP1HkngOmI/AAAAAAAAvgM/70t7eEAJmTAusIJjTfy9pCKqNx6tRnTFwCLcBGAsYHQ/w285-h400/13.jpg" width="285" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;">The smiles that made me a warrior. The little ones were the source of my strength</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lxc95gaQX-g/YJP0tLIBvgI/AAAAAAAAvf8/Ht4QFIx1mqEoZt8Lqjrx0NPb3UHjYEPBACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="430" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Lxc95gaQX-g/YJP0tLIBvgI/AAAAAAAAvf8/Ht4QFIx1mqEoZt8Lqjrx0NPb3UHjYEPBACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/3.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Promises that shook when cancer struck ..</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gLH9mPGCzUQ/YJP0tPn70vI/AAAAAAAAvf0/GdWOC1SqUyMro4DU5ppbCrQQIwiaJZL1wCLcBGAsYHQ/s1114/scan0003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="691" data-original-width="1114" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gLH9mPGCzUQ/YJP0tPn70vI/AAAAAAAAvf0/GdWOC1SqUyMro4DU5ppbCrQQIwiaJZL1wCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/scan0003.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Change is inevitable </td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7cnNiL1YFcY/YJP0tM78kiI/AAAAAAAAvf4/BkoqVLxm4YAPBG7-Lit32SG9QVISHQ_qwCLcBGAsYHQ/s980/scan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="698" data-original-width="980" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7cnNiL1YFcY/YJP0tM78kiI/AAAAAAAAvf4/BkoqVLxm4YAPBG7-Lit32SG9QVISHQ_qwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/scan.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #050505; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;">We promise according to our hopes and perform according to our fears. Francois de La Rochefoucauld</span></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><div dir="auto" style="font-family: inherit;"><br /></div></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-83868939657672705472021-05-06T19:11:00.000+05:302021-05-06T19:11:29.273+05:30#25SilverLinings - Believing a Lie and Living It<p><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">The accusation had driven me angry. Time and tide wait for none… I had calmed myself down. I am usually very good physically and emotionally when I am angry. It heals me. I know many will not agree with me, but when I am angry I do all the right things. </span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-3bcfd49b-7fff-20de-0c13-0412e6bad58d"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Slowly I calmed down and settled to wait for the date of surgery. It was just 20 days, but the days were just crawling slowly at a sloth’s pace. Meanwhile, my sister was an emotional wreck and afraid of what would happen after my surgery. Even though her condition was more serious, she constantly worried about me. Hospice had stepped in and started Morphine for her. When breast cancer is left alone, it can really turn into a scary thing as it progresses. My sister had the courage to deal with it. She dressed the open wound everyday and it was much later that I convinced her to take something for her pain. Until then, she tolerated the pain with OTC painkillers. But as we all know, it is not the physical pain which can destroy you, but the emotional pain. Physical pain has its limit, beyond which you either faint or go numb, but the emotional pain will just destroy you because you are defenseless against it. This is what I saw in my sister who went on deteriorating faster after she got to know about my diagnosis. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">I was trying hard either to assure her that I will be OK or avoid her. We just couldn’t be together without the topic of my cancer cropping up its ugly head and making her emotional. Moreover she doubted my choices. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The other cranky person I had to deal with was Farheena. I had suddenly weaned her off breast milk and she was not happy with it. Rayyan was playing, singing and trying to calm her down as I tried bottle feeding her. She would push the nipple out and demand for breast milk crying loudly at times. She was a peaceful baby who did not cry much, and seeing her like this was very frustrating. Those times I felt life/God or something out there was very unfair. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Due to milk collection, the tenderness in my breast became quite painful, especially on the side where the biopsy had been done. Pus had collected around the stitches and the doctor recommended I get the stitches removed. I was not eager. I felt that since the breast was going to be removed, what is the big deal with the stitches on it? The surgeon who did the biopsy did not want to hear those arguments. He was also a bit upset that I chose another doctor for surgery. He was a general surgeon, but I was damn sure that I wanted a onco surgeon only to operate on me. He said, “I did the biopsy and put those stitches in. I will remove it and finish what I started. You can do whatever you want after that”. Six ouches later, the threads were out. The breast was looking very nasty and had developed different hues. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">There were times when I would feel a shiver running through my spine. I would feel scared as though I was facing a real monster. But I had to work hard to keep my fears locked within me since my family who were not expressive earlier, had started responding to the news now emotionally. All that I thought was bravery was nothing but numbness that hit them due to the shock of the news. The emotional condition of everyone around me was similar to the orchestra which was moving toward the crescendo. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">The biggest challenge here was to convince everyone around me that I had made the right decision to proceed with my surgery and removal of my breast which would be followed by chemotherapy and radiation. There were a lot of issues they were worried about and the biggest one was me being OK and alive after the huge surgery. All my energy was being spent convincing my family that I was doing the right thing. They did everything because they loved me and more than me they loved my children. I had no heart to be rude to them or ignore them. I was myself worried and scared. I needed someone to pacify me and tell me everything's going to be alright, but here I was convincing others that I am going to be alright. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Every negative thing has a positive side to it. Trying to defend my decision and convincing my sister and my family, I ended up convincing myself as well. I am not sure whether it can be called ‘believing your own lie’ because I was not exactly lying but I was not telling the truth either because I was not in control of the future. It is known that a lie can embed itself in memory and come to feel as real as the truth and that is what happened to me when I was convincing everyone about the successful outcome of my treatment. I became more and more confident with each passing day. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">A week before my surgery I met my doctor to discuss and finalize a few things. He asked me to donate my blood so that it can be used during the surgery. I was a bit skeptical about this, but he explained how my own blood was the safest blood to transfuse because it eliminated disease transmission and allergic reactions which could be dangerous. He also explained that my body would start regenerating blood within 24 hours, so not to worry about it. I trusted him completely and went ahead with his suggestions. He asked me about my children, my family etc. He wanted to meet my husband and talk to him as well before going ahead with the surgery. At the end he said, “It felt as though we were talking about having dinner on a weekend rather than about the surgery on a Sunday morning. It is surprising how calm and collected you are”. That was the result of convincing my family about my success story. I had come to believe it by repeating it day in and day out and now I think I can say I lived it out as well for 25 years. </span></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_0rDRXglamw/YJPw1BjFGwI/AAAAAAAAvfU/eXDvd0iYPkIoztato8W4PmgM_OV0r9B7ACLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20210413_155552.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1489" data-original-width="2048" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-_0rDRXglamw/YJPw1BjFGwI/AAAAAAAAvfU/eXDvd0iYPkIoztato8W4PmgM_OV0r9B7ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/20210413_155552.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">My dad, myself, my sister and my mom- 4 of us had to fight cancer. <br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qRgFfhWryu8/YJPxNx1w6zI/AAAAAAAAvfg/kzk3q9hnopEHAVrSRqBqH1_-9rTOXtIzwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20210413_155516.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1766" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qRgFfhWryu8/YJPxNx1w6zI/AAAAAAAAvfg/kzk3q9hnopEHAVrSRqBqH1_-9rTOXtIzwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/20210413_155516.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;">Just few months before all the hell broke loose.. we were already stuggling during this time.<br /><br /></span><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yjEHgmX_8lE/YJPwt2mXcXI/AAAAAAAAvfQ/430Kn2TYWGgfbRVuk5Ge9t_BTU5zNAppQCLcBGAsYHQ/s2048/20210413_154751%2B%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1438" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yjEHgmX_8lE/YJPwt2mXcXI/AAAAAAAAvfQ/430Kn2TYWGgfbRVuk5Ge9t_BTU5zNAppQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/20210413_154751%2B%25281%2529.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;">You can dress and pose whichever way you want, the pain cannot be hidden. I think I can see my own pain here where I am trying to look normal and act cool..<br /><br /></span></td></tr></tbody></table></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O1NDvF9hTDI/YJPxs6BckqI/AAAAAAAAvfo/lrbWZtWdjgoDZ6PtxunlsGgYXku7-s25ACLcBGAsYHQ/s960/56781080_2344850058880018_5542181294307278848_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="960" data-original-width="699" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-O1NDvF9hTDI/YJPxs6BckqI/AAAAAAAAvfo/lrbWZtWdjgoDZ6PtxunlsGgYXku7-s25ACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/56781080_2344850058880018_5542181294307278848_n.jpg" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The guy always missing in group pics because he was clicking the pictures. </td></tr></tbody></table><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="background-color: white; color: #050505; font-family: "Segoe UI Historic", "Segoe UI", Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; text-align: start;"><br /><br /><br /></span><br /><br /></td></tr></tbody></table><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 10pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><br /><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><div><span face="Calibri, sans-serif" style="font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div></span><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-34368795951612168052021-05-06T11:23:00.001+05:302021-05-06T11:23:38.060+05:30Reflections - A-Z Challenge 2021<p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dx--VtS3vmw/YJFl22B6FeI/AAAAAAAAvew/tOdadlYc_bg39m411IkpTG6qjMkHCFzTACLcBGAsYHQ/s400/Reflection2021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="190" data-original-width="400" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dx--VtS3vmw/YJFl22B6FeI/AAAAAAAAvew/tOdadlYc_bg39m411IkpTG6qjMkHCFzTACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Reflection2021.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/">A to Z Challenge 2021</a></td></tr></tbody></table><div><br /></div><br /> I came across the A to Z April 2021 challenge link on 29th of March, so I was late for Theme Reveal, yet that did not deter me from jumping into it. <p></p><p><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LHixotjRt9I/YJFlpgw_c_I/AAAAAAAAves/FEWAdAd7LAIE8mmqdfMLobH2mCSZ3YFfACLcBGAsYHQ/s533/WinnerWinner.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="533" data-original-width="320" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LHixotjRt9I/YJFlpgw_c_I/AAAAAAAAves/FEWAdAd7LAIE8mmqdfMLobH2mCSZ3YFfACLcBGAsYHQ/s320/WinnerWinner.jpg" /></a>My theme for the challenge was - Things that helped me surive cancer for 25 years. Since this April I enter into my 26th year of survival, it made a perfect match for the 26 alphabet. </p><p>Since this was a spontaneous decision, I had to think of the blog everyday and create one because I had just time for a blog after regular working hours. Though at first I wanted to write about what helped me, later I decided to go ahead with something common for everyone. For example, when writing about Letter 'C' - I would say my children were a great motivation for my surival but then that is not the case with everyone. So, I went with being 'Calm' which is very much a part of fighting cancer. Plans kept changing, sometimes it was difficult to choose one topic when ideas were flowing for many of them and they all looked important. </p><p>The stats did not change much for me, though I had comments coming in for the posts. Usually I have visitors without comment left on my blogs, but A-Z challenge visitors left behind comments. It also encouraged me to visit other blogs and leave behind comments. </p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-McJox8GAAU4/YJOEI2qx_1I/AAAAAAAAvfE/tTwZJ_8MLvUydmNvRoo-35wMRO2llDpugCLcBGAsYHQ/s993/Screenshot%2B2021-05-04%2B155852.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="305" data-original-width="993" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-McJox8GAAU4/YJOEI2qx_1I/AAAAAAAAvfE/tTwZJ_8MLvUydmNvRoo-35wMRO2llDpugCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screenshot%2B2021-05-04%2B155852.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tbPfZteiG8o/YJOEQRpyNOI/AAAAAAAAvfI/jY0GlWS45hohies58SXUhXapN9MxiuurQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1016/Screenshot%2B2021-05-04%2B155728.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="345" data-original-width="1016" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tbPfZteiG8o/YJOEQRpyNOI/AAAAAAAAvfI/jY0GlWS45hohies58SXUhXapN9MxiuurQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/Screenshot%2B2021-05-04%2B155728.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p><p>I found some amazing blogs to read. I also had great bloggers visiting my blog leaving behind encouraging comments. </p><p>https://artismoments.blogspot.com/ - Her pictures and posts were as beautiful as her. Arti's coomments were heartwarming always. </p><p>https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.com/ - Very savvy posts. She went out of her way to help me set up my profile right so that my blog would have easy access. </p><p>https://reelfocus.blogspot.com/- Trudy had amazing list of movies. I looked forward to reading them everyday. </p><p>https://suestrifles.wordpress.com/ - Her posts took me back to the days of school in St. Joseph's Convent. </p><p>https://www.anne-m-bray.com/blog Found amazing art and another cancer warrior. Anne M Bray- you rock</p><p>https://jlennidorner.blogspot.com/- Thank you for your visit.</p><p>https://mary-mann.blogspot.com/</p><p>https://tasmanianabroad.com/</p><p>https://poojapriyamvada.blogspot.com/</p><p>https://sri-lovenature.blogspot.com/</p><p>There were many more blogs I visited but I unable to add them to the list at present. </p><p>I couldn't do the scavenger hunt due to lack of time after a full time job. </p><p>I want to get back to the challenge once again whenever it is announced. </p><p>Thank you everyone</p><p>My list of posts for A to Z Challenge 2021</p><p>A - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/a-awareness-action-attitude.html">Awareness - Action - Attitude</a> </p><p>B - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/b-bald-yet-brave-and-bold.html">Bald yet Brave and Bold</a></p><p>C - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/c-calm-despite-cancer.html">Calm Despite Cancer </a></p><p>D - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/d-determination-to-change-destiny.html">Determination To Change Destiny </a></p><p>E -<a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/e-enthusiasm-to-enjoy-life.html"> Enthusiasm To Enjoy Life</a></p><p>F - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/f-focused-yet-flexible.html">Focused Yet Flexible</a></p><p>G- <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/g-feel-good-with-gratitude.html">Feel Good With Gratitude</a></p><p>H - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/humour-helps-you-heal.html">Humour Helps You Heal</a></p><p>I - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/informative-intelligence.html">Informative Intelligence</a></p><p>J - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/joyful-journey-of-life.html">Joyful Journey Of Life</a></p><p>K - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/kickstart-kindness-now.html">Kickstart Kindness Now</a></p><p>L - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/learn-to-listen-to-your-body.html">Learn to Listen toYour Body</a></p><p>M - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/m-mind-full-to-mindful-meaningful.html">Mind Full to Mindful - A Meaningful Journey</a></p><p>N - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/nurture-with-nature.html">Nurture with Nature</a></p><p>O - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/open-minded-optimism.html">Open Minded Optimism </a></p><p>P - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/persistent-patience-empowers.html">Persistant Patience Empowers Perseverance</a></p><p>Q - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/quality-or-quantity-dilemma-of-treatment.html">Quality or Quantity - Dilemma of Treatment</a></p><p>R -<a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/recuperate-respect-your-rebirth.html"> Recuperate - Respect Your Rebirth</a></p><p>S - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/s-self-love-smart-love.html">Self Love - Smart Love</a></p><p>T - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/thoughts-tune-them-to-triumph.html">Thoughts - Tune Them To Triumph</a></p><p>U - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/unlock-your-upgrade.html">Unlock Your Upgrade</a></p><p>V - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/v-victim-or-victor-choice-is-yours.html">Victim or Victor, The Choice Is Yours</a></p><p>W - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/w-watchful-will-win.html">The Watchful Will Win</a></p><p>X - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/find-your-x-factor-be-xtraordinary.html">Find Your X-Factor, Be Xtraordinary </a></p><p>Y - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/y-yesyou-matter.html">Yes, 'YOU' Matter</a></p><p>Z - <a href="https://www.chaptersfrommylife.com/2021/04/z-add-zest-zeal-to-your-life.html">Add Zest & Zeal To Your Life</a></p><p><br /></p><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-78824205682704519472021-04-30T18:24:00.000+05:302021-04-30T18:24:13.009+05:30 Z - Add Zest & Zeal To Your Life<p><br /></p><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0AeK0dGkVXg/YIv5qj6NYEI/AAAAAAAAvdg/LkOEdq5nzZUcYN50ACLaO_yjZLoY17xlACLcBGAsYHQ/s0/ZZ.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/">#AtoZChallenge</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span id="docs-internal-guid-54071448-7fff-b911-9730-93656b07564c"><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Ah, there we have A Z A Z in Add Zest And Zeal. What a perfect way to end a challenge A to Z!</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Once we have fought and won over cancer, let us not end up being alive, but rather live our life fully with high doses of Zest and Zeal. We have already been near death once, so let us now get back to life with a zeal never seen before. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">As children we remember very vividly what we did in the summer vacation with more love than the regular school days, unless you had a terrible home environment and school was your refuge. Add to it all those family picnics, vacations, honeymoon or any other events that gave you the freedom to live your life without a care. It is easy to see the difference between being alive, existing and actually living our life to the fullest. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">You don’t have to be on a vacation, holidays or any fancy place to fill your life with happiness, but you can make small changes in your workplace, home, life-style and thoughts to make it come alive. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Zest is that part of us that we either hide or forget as we grow up abiding to the rules of what is the right thing for us to do. A simple definition of the word says, it is about living life with a sense of excitement, anticipation and energy, that is essential to nurture our soul, and gives us a spirit that makes us stand out as a human. Those who have imbibed zest in their lifestyle, will make even ordinary tasks look something important and interesting. Remember the guy who went out with a broom to sweep in footloose? If you don’t, check out his video below. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">After long struggle with diagnosis, opinions, second opinion, surgery, chemotherapy, radiation and recovery, it is easy to lose our zeal for life and even the zest if we had it in the first place. It is easy to feel grateful to push through each day without an incident or manage just what we have to do to survive. This attitude will steal our life from us, even though we have won over cancer. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is important for us to get back that zeal and zest in our life so that we make it worth the second chance we get. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Always be around people who make you feel like a warrior, rather than push you to worry with their cancer related sob tales.If the need arises, it is OK to stop them firmly (or rudely) if you feel what they say is going to put you down. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Set goals which have nothing to do with your fight with cancer. Even if you are very happy with your life, find something new and exciting to do. Strike out the word boredom from your life. Fill the spaces of boredom with something exciting to do</span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Laugh and let others laugh with you. Reach out with your helping hand to those who really need your help. There is a great deal of happiness, contentment and peace when you know you were able to make a difference to someone. It is good to smile and laugh out loud, but believe me, it feels much better when you wipe tears and make a sad person smile. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Let us make our life meaningful and live it to the fullest by adding zest and zeal to everything we do. Good luck!</span></p><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;">Some of my friends have been a great inspiration to me. Duffy Mathias is one of them. Fighting lot of health issues besides cancer, she never stopped living. Her jump says it all.. </span></span></div><div><span style="font-family: Arial;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LjtYvDuGC-E/YIv6iMZxCWI/AAAAAAAAvdo/lgxT_HCunWw4LAKcARvb3lT09PPvIjDMQCLcBGAsYHQ/s649/260057_1621318512060_7609621_n.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="432" data-original-width="649" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LjtYvDuGC-E/YIv6iMZxCWI/AAAAAAAAvdo/lgxT_HCunWw4LAKcARvb3lT09PPvIjDMQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/260057_1621318512060_7609621_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">We had a great Sari party in Florida with my sisters in survival of breast cancer. Not just new, may be one of a kind. </div><br /><span style="font-size: 14.6667px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eRS7l3yot0s/YIv61oqHkcI/AAAAAAAAvdw/saW5qMOsJhI-xXM-XU7tDBnrc3epqSftgCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/1%2B%252850%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="669" data-original-width="1600" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eRS7l3yot0s/YIv61oqHkcI/AAAAAAAAvdw/saW5qMOsJhI-xXM-XU7tDBnrc3epqSftgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/1%2B%252850%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">I fulfilled my dream of visting Disney World with my children </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8K9SjPAVFf0/Uxsg_7Qb2AI/AAAAAAAAIWE/Ng2Q0wVWOiQTXP5Pqkgq3CnAi3CEmy9CwCPcBGAYYCw/s2048/1%2B%2528459%2529.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8K9SjPAVFf0/Uxsg_7Qb2AI/AAAAAAAAIWE/Ng2Q0wVWOiQTXP5Pqkgq3CnAi3CEmy9CwCPcBGAYYCw/s320/1%2B%2528459%2529.jpg" /></a></div></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">There were this special moments in our life, and then there were everyday events which we the made the best of. That was something which made our lives special and filled it with zeal and zest.... </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0lYyHuATdao/YIv8_nGa7iI/AAAAAAAAvd4/iPKTwYKswuwQurB_P_t3VdqUDHCmBFWmwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/06012008049%2B%25282%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-0lYyHuATdao/YIv8_nGa7iI/AAAAAAAAvd4/iPKTwYKswuwQurB_P_t3VdqUDHCmBFWmwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/06012008049%2B%25282%2529.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nqXztMo0gJg/YIv9Dzo5R5I/AAAAAAAAvd8/XUUk3W0bysE2qsWlldHkLFHbHaOgQORKQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1007/12.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1007" data-original-width="633" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nqXztMo0gJg/YIv9Dzo5R5I/AAAAAAAAvd8/XUUk3W0bysE2qsWlldHkLFHbHaOgQORKQCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/12.jpg" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ph2HJyEruSA/YIv9IHjhpxI/AAAAAAAAveA/xAhR5xGF-BAeAacApzrwq9rZhfIEmo5rgCLcBGAsYHQ/s995/36%2B-%2BCopy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="707" data-original-width="995" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ph2HJyEruSA/YIv9IHjhpxI/AAAAAAAAveA/xAhR5xGF-BAeAacApzrwq9rZhfIEmo5rgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/36%2B-%2BCopy.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rKMjqvGqviI/YIv9x5vXNXI/AAAAAAAAveQ/UR8qWAdNxmU0TmVigS_g0TpUSqJpV-begCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/05032008210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rKMjqvGqviI/YIv9x5vXNXI/AAAAAAAAveQ/UR8qWAdNxmU0TmVigS_g0TpUSqJpV-begCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/05032008210.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">And not to forget the video from footloose</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br /></div></span>
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-18474662666743362142021-04-29T21:10:00.000+05:302021-04-29T21:10:19.140+05:30Y- Yes,’YOU’ Matter <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IyRazjfsGis/YIrOAnBxnjI/AAAAAAAAvc4/HBwIDl9z1rAIiQbpkhf07uj8E8ERyvWKgCLcBGAsYHQ/s0/YY.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/">#AtoZChallenge</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><div>We grow up listening to all those things matter, which includes our good behavior, following our religion, abiding to social norms, scoring good marks in academics, finding a good job, being on time, hard work etc etc etc. The list is unending with few additions in it only for women, but unfortunately ‘YOU’ are never there on the list, right? Slowly we start to care about everyone and everything other than us. </div><div>That happened to me as well until cancer knocked my door. It left me wondering when undergoing treatment, what is the use of everything I did, achieved or have if ‘I’ myself am not there. They all turn to dust with me. If I die, I cannot be a mom, a daughter, a sister or a wife, so I have to take care of my needs, my health and my happiness if I want to be there for others. Not only that, I had to learn to value myself without attaching value only to what I accomplish or what I can do for others. I wanted to just be there and feel important, like a cat.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V3w6EoFJ7TI/YIrRLxQvqPI/AAAAAAAAvdI/a3jivRQ5w2US89pJ0Pv1wk1C2rQVyWQjwCLcBGAsYHQ/s2084/100_5265%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2084" data-original-width="1620" height="320" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-V3w6EoFJ7TI/YIrRLxQvqPI/AAAAAAAAvdI/a3jivRQ5w2US89pJ0Pv1wk1C2rQVyWQjwCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/100_5265%2B-%2BCopy.JPG" /></a></div><br /> Life is going to have the good days and the bad ones, you will be lazy or busy, things will look up and then they will slide down, but you are always there in your life. You can escape from everyone, but you have to be with you always. Once you start to realize ‘YOU’ matter, you will make time for yourself to do things which do bring a sense of accomplishment but sheer happiness. It can be listening to music, watching a movie, going for a walk, going out with friends or reading a book without a purpose… just for the sheer joy of it. Many people end up with guilt, or feel they are wasting precious time when they indulge in their own happiness. As a counselor I hear this so often, even from people as young as 13 or less. <div>The word selfish is very scary. We are made to believe at times, that being happy is being selfish, but we have to learn the difference to be happy yet not selfish. In fact, selfishness chases away happiness. If you observe, you will see that selfish people are never happy people. </div><div>After the cancer treatment, there are times when you feel you are not complete. You have to unlearn all that you were taught earlier, and learn to love and accept yourself for who you are and what you have become after cancer. This is the time you need this self-love more than ever. You have to learn to accept the fact that ‘You’ matters the most in your life. You have to learn to enjoy your life and be happy without going through the guilt. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qCCyqinSp5Q/YIrS97vwhHI/AAAAAAAAvdU/UmXXUqaKQnwDz2iD635LrzMLfoTGZSuHgCLcBGAsYHQ/s430/1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="247" data-original-width="430" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qCCyqinSp5Q/YIrS97vwhHI/AAAAAAAAvdU/UmXXUqaKQnwDz2iD635LrzMLfoTGZSuHgCLcBGAsYHQ/s320/1.png" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div>Sometimes the journey itself is more beautiful than the destination. We get lost by focusing on the time, what we should do when we reach our destination, what if we don’t get there on time and many other worries that we forget to notice or enjoy of the journey itself. We may never reach our destination in some cases. Let this not be the story of the journey of our life. Let us not focus so much on destination, that we forget to enjoy the journey. Let us live this moment and feel it. Let us learn to accept the fact that ‘We’ matter so that we don’t get so busy making a living that we forget to live our life.</div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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<!-- AddThis Button END --></div>Chapters From My Lifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07905577212056834284noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2299833759523653735.post-76523559006488843532021-04-28T21:02:00.003+05:302021-04-28T21:02:55.256+05:30 Find Your X-Factor, Be Xtraordinary<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/"><img border="0" data-original-height="200" data-original-width="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/--Z3ys1t_N2o/YIl5YSEWNyI/AAAAAAAAvb4/wBdedgKZXnQmqe0dM2_YxtV271T_WNwhQCLcBGAsYHQ/s0/XX.jpg" /></a></span></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/">#AtoZChallenge</a></td></tr></tbody></table><br /><p><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not many can understand something as complicated as the X-factor because it cannot be graded or measured in numbers. Like many other good things, it is felt by you. On the other hand, it is easy to know who the x.y.z people are. XYZ is also a code for zipper down, but we are not dealing with pant zips today. </span></p><span id="docs-internal-guid-0c2344ab-7fff-a4ab-5d85-750edcaaa4f5"><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">When we talk about Monalisa painting, we say Leonardo Da Vinci painted it. If we see some art which is not attractive with an unknown author, we call it a painting by some xyz artist. So, how do we become someone special and not just any xyz? The key is to find our X-factor like so many ordinary people did to play a role, write a book, create a masterpiece, find their talent in a game or a talent for doing something they were passionate about. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">What do you cherish the most in your life besides the people and relationships? It is something rare, unique and has some special thing about it, right? It can be a book, a jewelry, a cutlery or anything, but if you cherish it, then it is something extraordinary. Finding your X-factor will make you that treasure which you value. Though we all talk about the X-factor not many find it, because we are not looking for it. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">It is believed that every person is born with a X-factor but they live their life without finding it. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">On the stage of the reality shows, we have seen ordinary people perform extraordinary feats. It is those who found their X-factor and a platform to show it off. For every person receiving a standing ovation there, there are millions who haven't found that X-factor, or just ignored it after finding it. </span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tL1hgb-Ek2Q/YIl73pAjTtI/AAAAAAAAvcE/ws1O_ZiBCjgDnDiNl-ll2IzISzHrvS-bwCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/5-steps-to-make-your-start-up-stand-out-from-the-crowd_tiztit.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="font-family: "Times New Roman"; font-size: medium; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center; white-space: normal;"><img border="0" data-original-height="520" data-original-width="640" height="163" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-tL1hgb-Ek2Q/YIl73pAjTtI/AAAAAAAAvcE/ws1O_ZiBCjgDnDiNl-ll2IzISzHrvS-bwCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h163/5-steps-to-make-your-start-up-stand-out-from-the-crowd_tiztit.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Stand our with your X-factor</td></tr></tbody></table><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">If you ever had a brush with your passionate abilities, but you pushed it aside because you had a more important task on hand, think back on it once again. Catch hold of your X-factor that brings out that unique talent in you which gives you a sense of effortless joy, which makes you feel like a Xtraordinary person. It is not always important for others to acknowledge that you are Xtraordinary, you have to feel it and experience it. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"></span></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Not everybody who finds their X-factor has to make it big, though it always helps to have a bonus. Many may enjoy helping poor and needy, but they may not make it as big as what Mother Theresa did. Every person who found their writing talent may not become as famous as J.K Rowling. But, every person can be special in their own life and make a difference in any small way they can. We lost touch with our X-factor when we were told A- is for apple when our mind was thinking about a lot of things that connected to A.</span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7SBuPpfM1-w/YIl7q2DikyI/AAAAAAAAvcA/ss6uT5k6mesoKlphfeOMj2Zwr5mWpUU4gCLcBGAsYHQ/s1024/istockphoto-615489984-1024x1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="862" data-original-width="1024" height="168" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7SBuPpfM1-w/YIl7q2DikyI/AAAAAAAAvcA/ss6uT5k6mesoKlphfeOMj2Zwr5mWpUU4gCLcBGAsYHQ/w200-h168/istockphoto-615489984-1024x1024.jpg" width="200" /></a></div> For me A looked like a swing from sideways but our imagination is shut off when we are forced to learn like everyone else. That was the past. Now we have got another shot at life, and let us live that by being someone special in our own small unique way. </span><p></p><br /><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">An ambition, a purpose and a goal to pursue will always give you extra strength to fight for your life. So it is time now to find your X-factor, or if you had already found it, focus more on it to make it big. Let the treasure hunt begin for our X-factor. Good luck!</span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;">Below I am sharing few art creations by my special needs daughter which will prove that even simple things can be Xtraordinary. </span></p><p dir="ltr" style="line-height: 1.38; margin-bottom: 0pt; margin-top: 0pt;"><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7BfpaUs9Ef0/YIl9_JOATDI/AAAAAAAAvcg/K0THv31m5KAM_Ib-411WE85c0zfrRpNvgCLcBGAsYHQ/s640/IMAG0007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="378" data-original-width="640" height="378" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7BfpaUs9Ef0/YIl9_JOATDI/AAAAAAAAvcg/K0THv31m5KAM_Ib-411WE85c0zfrRpNvgCLcBGAsYHQ/w640-h378/IMAG0007.jpg" width="640" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Farheena and her friends posing for group photo</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-696B9Nllaqc/YIl9_L2jrAI/AAAAAAAAvcY/d_AP3_rVADQdmzk9VexXquFKvSOeBv1tQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1539/IMAG0026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1539" data-original-width="1038" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-696B9Nllaqc/YIl9_L2jrAI/AAAAAAAAvcY/d_AP3_rVADQdmzk9VexXquFKvSOeBv1tQCLcBGAsYHQ/w432-h640/IMAG0026.jpg" width="432" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She called it 'Tree of Life'</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AeTmLCA4pDE/YIl9_J50K6I/AAAAAAAAvcc/JVp5gf39GzkCV1o_J1Cy80SYKJY-5EMpACLcBGAsYHQ/s640/P_20160520_113627.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="640" data-original-width="461" height="640" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-AeTmLCA4pDE/YIl9_J50K6I/AAAAAAAAvcc/JVp5gf39GzkCV1o_J1Cy80SYKJY-5EMpACLcBGAsYHQ/w460-h640/P_20160520_113627.jpg" width="460" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mommy and Baby flowers</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></p><div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><br /><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: 11pt; font-variant-east-asian: normal; font-variant-numeric: normal; vertical-align: baseline; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><!-- AddThis Button BEGIN -->
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