Yesterday my mother had her cataract surgery. It was a huge thing for use since it was one of the first serious medical emergencies after the passing of our father. Nevertheless, my brother took command over the whole situation, beginning to end as we escorted him to the hospital for the day. Now here I refer "we" to myself and my younger cousin brother, who is also my contemporary age-wise.
Now the whole surgery thing was sudden and out of bloom. None of us were sure for any of the surgery to take place until the late afternoon of the day before the surgery. That was the time when we received the report of the blood sugar level test of our mother, now considerably reduced to pass for the performing of surgery.
In the face of this medical challenge, my brother assumed the leadership by taking command of the situation from the moment the report of the blood sugar level came out in favor of the surgery to the moment we escorted our mother to the hospital the next day and the leadership sustained itself even after that. It was a role he embraced with determination, navigating through all the steps and procedures of the medical process by ensuring everything proceeded smoothly.
His conformity to his duty is not restricted to only our mother. He planned ahead of the surgery about the day of surgery and how that day would also serve as the day on which I would have my dwindling sight of eyes checked up. At first, I was not paying that much mind to this but on the day just before the surgery, it seemed abundantly clear to me that he was not saying it for the sake of saying it, and that he was, in fact , planning things quite ahead of its occurrence.
Nevertheless, the moment of us heading toward the eye clinic was nearing and it is only a few hours that is left. I was indecisive throughout the night to accompany the rest or not as I was not in the very best of health that day. I do not want to be a liability, the very reason why I withdraw myself from joining others on most of the important occasions. I was almost up for that withdrawal minutes before embarking on the journey but I didn't, and I am still unaware as to why.
As events unfolded, I found myself reflecting on my emotional response or rather the lack thereof. Life had dealt us a hand filled with challenging events, and the surgery for our mother seemed like another chapter in a book of unpredictable turns. Yet, amid the chaos, a peculiar numbness clasped me in its tentacles, this, preventing the emergence of the emotional drive that one might expect in such circumstances.
It seems that a lifetime of facing challenges has shaped me into someone who processed upheavals with measured stoicism. My seemingly boundless, emotional reservoir had undergone a subtle transformation, leaving me with a pragmatic outlook on adversity.
Observing my cousin brother, who shared a similar contemporary age and perspective, it struck me that this approach was not exclusive to me. We moved through the hospital corridors, and we went along with my eyes to be checked by Dr. Sagarika Dash who was assigned to the job. Finally, when my turn came we participated in all the procedures prior to the checkup, engaged ourselves in discussions with doctors as we proceeded with the check-up, and then finally when we were done we joined our mother on her surgery by the call of our elder brother who was with her throughout the whole time.
By the time we arrived at the waiting lounge, our mother had already gone into the Operating theater and it was only our elder brother in the lounge, seemingly anxious, waiting for us to join him and for our mother to return from the OT who had gone inside of it for about 40 minutes.
Nonetheless, we all waited for a few more minutes, probably an hour, before our mother came out of the operation theater. And then there she was exactly as she went but only with an eye patch.
We supported our mother with a practicality that spoke of resilience. Still, at the same time, it left a lingering question of whether we had become emotionally distant in the face of life's trials.
Perhaps it was a coping mechanism, a survival instinct developed over the years. The emotional drive of empathy and console is buried beneath layers of resilience and adaptation. We lack some words of expression; I mean that is what is deemed by the outside world when care is not accompanied by the presupposed demeanor but it was just that caring had taken on a different form, expressed through actions rather than words, through a silent understanding that spoke volumes in its quietness.
In the end, the surgery went well, now leading us to join our mother in her recovery journey. As we navigated through the aftermath of the surgery, the echoes of our stoic response lingered, prompting contemplation on the intricate ways in which a lifetime of challenges shapes our emotional landscape.
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