Dealing with Mortality

Dealing with Mortality (10/5/23)

Two recent events illumined a dark corner of my mind. They shed light on the impermanence inherent with human lives. 

The first involves Vidula’s septuagenararian uncle who has been unwell for a few years. Cancer has ravaged his body completely and no succour is in sight. Consequently, Suhas Ambardekar has now been shifted to Shanti Avedna at Bandra where palliative care is administered to terminally ill patients. I accompanied Vidula to this hospice a few days ago to meet her ailing Kaka. These are perhaps our last few interactions with him. Vidula feels for her kaka because of many happy childhood memories. Despite our best efforts Vidula drifted away from her kaka after our marriage. Admittedly, Suhas Ambardekar was not the easiest man to get along with, but he always had a soft spot for his niece. Vidula will remember her kaka as a lively and somewhat rambunctious person. Life has been a rollercoaster ride for this gentleman but now at the fag end he is devoid of money and good health. He tries valiantly to appear cheerful and talks about the times gone by with visitors.

A few inquisitive and intrusive relatives are now creating strife by offering absurd suggestions. Kaka’s family takes a dim view of these ‘well intentioned’ relatives. This is leading to conflicts and a lot of bitterness and apprehension.

Suhas Ambardekar can do without bitterness. He knows that the end is near. It is perhaps his boisterous nature which keeps him positive in his final days. During our visit we saw many patients in various states of despair. Vacant eyes, pained expressions, hopelessness, and disillusionment were all pervasive. The good folks at Shanti Avedna do their best to look after all the inmates with love and care. Doctors and physiotherapists attend regularly, and food is provided at predetermined intervals. There are also ice cream feasts! They do everything within their power to keep the spirits high. To a casual observer Shanti Avedna may appear like a very congenial place with its flower gardens, manicured lawns, tall trees, chirping of birds, and gentle sounds of waves crashing on the seashore. But all this is a deliberate attempt to help deal with the agony and make the final days restful, if not peaceful.

Bluntly put, no one returns alive from Shanti Avedna. I was tormented by this thought when I left. At the fag end of our lives nothing really matters. Fame, wealth, accomplishments, and all other worldly possessions seem pointless. One feels completely helpless.

All of us would be gone in a few decades. No one would care or even be aware of our existence a hundred years from now. Everyone is dispensable.

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The other incident was the untimely death of Dr. Dhananjay Abhyankar, husband of one my childhood friends, Ketaki. Dhananjay passed away last week due to complications brought about by diabetes. He was just 50. Dhananjay is survived by his old parents, wife and two lovely daughters. All his professional achievements and his roaring dental practice appear meaningless now that he is gone. I was lost for words and did not have the courage to offer condolences to Ketaki. I spoke with her aunt and her father but could not offer any words to comfort them. Both were inconsolable. 

There were a few red flags in Dhananjay’s case. Obesity and uncontrolled diabetes had claimed one of his toes. He also had some persistent rashes on his feet a few months ago. Despite these comorbidities his demise does not any satisfactory explanation. He was in some local hospital for 3-4 days before he breathed his last. 

How does one come to terms with such an early exit?

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Is there any learning from these two events? Can we really reduce all events to learning experiences? Shock and grief evaporate after a few days. What remains are memories with which we must grapple.

I think taking care of oneself is the most important lesson. I don’t mean just physically. Our mental health is as important (if not more) as physical. Meeting friends on a regular basis is as crucial as having three square meals. Going out on a occasional movie date with your spouse and children is more valuable than the regular gym sessions. The ability to laugh at oneself and finding humour in situations around us is more refreshing than being constantly engaged in business meetings. Going out for a quiet walk with friends or a dog is more satisfying than thinking endlessly of the pulsating markets. Appreciating and congratulating a friend or relative in person is more meaningful than giving a like on social media.

We need to strike a balance and also make an attempt to communicate. Months and years get wasted as one is not ready to communicate. Building bridges with relatives or friends brings a lot of calm and peace as many old languishing issues get addressed.

A more disciplined lifestyle and consciously nurturing a forgiving and jovial nature will do wonders to anyone. Through discipline we increase our odds of survival.

If Dhananjay had been disciplined about his diabetes and weight issues, he could have survived longer. Ketaki and his young daughters wouldn’t have been so devastated.

Vidula’s kaka could have had congenial relations with all his relatives if he had been more sensitive to the demands of his family. 

There are a lot of ifs and buts in the above conjectures. Life is just that….

As Dolores Abernathy of Westworld says, “some people choose to see the ugliness in this world; I choose to see the beauty”. 

– Sandeep Oke