The chaos of normal living. Do the dishes. Do the laundry. Empty the trash. Clean the table. Dishes. Sink. Clothes. Garbage cans. Dishes. Sink. Clothes. Garbage cans. The certainty of doing the seemingly mundane gives you a strange comfort. Your mind’s one attempt at devising some sense of control in an increasingly uncontrollable world.
Today, when I put the clothes in the washing machine, I forgot one basic rule: colors run. How do you remember this most mundane fact? I didn’t. When the machine finished its job, I could only smile as my white T-shirt came back a pale yellow. Another T-shirt with a white stripe now has a yellow stripe. My Mom says this is another kind of fashion. I had to agree.
I thought of this when I sat down to write this post. These days, I wear the colors of kindness that so many of you have given me. Whatever this horror experience results in, I am humbled by the depth of care you have all shown. Those colors have run into the fabric of my mind, casting a fresh shade to what was stale, forgotten, and proud. I must have done some good karma in my life for your friendships. I really don’t know what I have done to deserve such love.
Today, I feel a little better – more chores, but less tiredness. My Mom too is also slowly recovering from the extreme fatigue, although that is more of a sliding scale rather than an absence of fatigue. Was the fatigue 9 out 10 yesterday? Then it’s 8 out of 10.
Meanwhile, we purchase some other injections for Susheela, who has already received Remdesivir. Her pulmonologist says her chest x-ray shows a deterioration. I don’t know what that means. I don’t know what a lot of things mean anymore. I speak to her and tell her to breathe. Yet, I really don’t know how to tell someone to breathe, this act so natural that I stutter in the saying of it. The fundraiser for her has reached the Rs 150,000 mark, but she needs far more than that. Please share that with your friends, who I know may all be struggling, and I feel ridiculous even asking.
I lay my head down for the day. Yet, I know that when tomorrow comes, I will try again to lift my head up. I will try.