It has been two months since I left Kolkata. Many things have been happening but it has recently been on my mind that I need to do a "wrap up" of my time in India. Ally and I have had a few good talks about our time there but our immediate separation from each other made it difficult in the critical weeks after return.
We found ourselves, after a long day in hospice clinicals, lounging in chairs in the basement of the house we are renting. Stories of people we met and things we did came back to us as we laughed and occasionally shuddered. Highlights included a woman named Sanjucta who always asked us for water to wash her hands. One Sister explained to us that hand washing was a way to deal with the fact that she was associated with a lower class when originally, she was much better off. For one reason or another, her family disowned her and she ended up in Kalighat. I enjoyed my time with her, caring for her wounds and getting her water. "Hey Sistah!" she would shout from across the room when she caught site of us. I miss her.
Malti was another woman I got to know well. I was one of the first ones to feed her a meal when she first came in. I wonder when the last time was that she had had a good meal. It took a lot of patience because it was difficult to feed her since she was laying on her side away from me. I found out later why she always was on that side; on the other side were huge gaping wounds.Every day during my wound care rounds, I would take care of her wounds while she was still in bed. She would look at me, crying, with sorrowful eyes as the pain of what I was doing took hold of her. A few times, my good friend Maddie, would be able to sit with her and soothe her while I was cleaning her wounds. Sister Karuna assured me they would eventually heal. I hope they are on their way.
I miss these woman and hope they are doing well. I know I will meet them in heaven where we all know the same language! I'll finally get to know what they were saying to me all those times (I am pretty sure all Sanjucta ever wanted was to wash her hands).
Keep Ally and I in your prayers as we continue to reflect on our experience. Thank you again to all who supported us with money and prayers.
Love, Laura
We found ourselves, after a long day in hospice clinicals, lounging in chairs in the basement of the house we are renting. Stories of people we met and things we did came back to us as we laughed and occasionally shuddered. Highlights included a woman named Sanjucta who always asked us for water to wash her hands. One Sister explained to us that hand washing was a way to deal with the fact that she was associated with a lower class when originally, she was much better off. For one reason or another, her family disowned her and she ended up in Kalighat. I enjoyed my time with her, caring for her wounds and getting her water. "Hey Sistah!" she would shout from across the room when she caught site of us. I miss her.
Malti was another woman I got to know well. I was one of the first ones to feed her a meal when she first came in. I wonder when the last time was that she had had a good meal. It took a lot of patience because it was difficult to feed her since she was laying on her side away from me. I found out later why she always was on that side; on the other side were huge gaping wounds.Every day during my wound care rounds, I would take care of her wounds while she was still in bed. She would look at me, crying, with sorrowful eyes as the pain of what I was doing took hold of her. A few times, my good friend Maddie, would be able to sit with her and soothe her while I was cleaning her wounds. Sister Karuna assured me they would eventually heal. I hope they are on their way.
I miss these woman and hope they are doing well. I know I will meet them in heaven where we all know the same language! I'll finally get to know what they were saying to me all those times (I am pretty sure all Sanjucta ever wanted was to wash her hands).
Keep Ally and I in your prayers as we continue to reflect on our experience. Thank you again to all who supported us with money and prayers.
Love, Laura
