NEVER SAY DIE
Poetess Shaiqua Murshed
I
have often been asked, ‘What is palliative care?’ To put it simply, it
is an approach by a multidisciplinary team of healthcare professionals
to keep a person comfortable during illness by addressing the many
problems that arise. This, perhaps, does not sound as simple as it is
supposed to, however, it means that the physician, nurse, social worker,
chaplain, recreation therapist, rehabilitation therapist, dietitian,
and psychologist that are a part of the palliative care team address
issues of physical and mental health, social, emotional and
psychological well being of the person concerned.
Palliative care takes a twist when the patient faces death in a period of six months when it merges into hospice care; the medical approach is similar, terms a trifle different, the goals remain the same, though time is of the essence.
Little is more devastating for a patient and his loved one than having to hear, “There is nothing more we can do.” To the contrary, there is a lot we can do for someone terminally ill. We can alleviate his suffering, help him live with dignity, and improve the quality of his life.
I often ask myself, ‘What is life?’ Is it the scenes we have acted, the mirrors we stared at, images that were sharply etched and real, shadows that were distorted and flimsy, our desires, our aspirations, our joys, our sadness, our pain, our triumphs, the tears, the smiles, the bouquet of flowers, the thorns in them…. they were life, they are life. They are our life.
We climb mountains, we struggle across boulders, fall on the dirt track, pick ourselves up, search for a plateau to rest our backpack on, sing with the wind, trip over a pebble, but we keep walking. At times the journey becomes too destitute, too lonely, and too wretched to walk alone. Resources are scarce, friends non-existent, and we are scared. The steak knife has a sharp blade, the veins are willing. It takes a lot of courage to answer the call.
Life is irreplaceable. There is always someone willing to listen. Just ask.
So, what is life? Just the faintest of breaths, thinner than a flame in the breeze, a whiff, a thready puff, a mist that makes a man move, which in a trice can evaporate, rendering him a cold mass of desires, joy, pain, aspirations and triumphs? As simple as that?
It is said in the Yajur Veda, ‘The moment this fire extinguishes, the soul departs’. Where did life go? Do we understand life now? No, we will never understand life, nor death. Both are enigmas which will always baffle mere mortals.
We are too insignificant to give life, yet we do, we give birth, that is giving life, but the source of life is another enigma. To those who believe, the source may be called god, or a force, or a being, or for those who are spiritual and do not practice an organised religion, it may be a concept. Whichever way we look at matters, life is too precious; we have the spirit in us to live our lives with dignity, with quality, and with self respect. Storms will swarm over us, flowers will grow under our feet, the rainbow will melt into our days, but we will strive ever onward.
And, as someone said, ‘Keep walking, but stop to smell the flowers”.
Palliative care takes a twist when the patient faces death in a period of six months when it merges into hospice care; the medical approach is similar, terms a trifle different, the goals remain the same, though time is of the essence.
Little is more devastating for a patient and his loved one than having to hear, “There is nothing more we can do.” To the contrary, there is a lot we can do for someone terminally ill. We can alleviate his suffering, help him live with dignity, and improve the quality of his life.
I often ask myself, ‘What is life?’ Is it the scenes we have acted, the mirrors we stared at, images that were sharply etched and real, shadows that were distorted and flimsy, our desires, our aspirations, our joys, our sadness, our pain, our triumphs, the tears, the smiles, the bouquet of flowers, the thorns in them…. they were life, they are life. They are our life.
We climb mountains, we struggle across boulders, fall on the dirt track, pick ourselves up, search for a plateau to rest our backpack on, sing with the wind, trip over a pebble, but we keep walking. At times the journey becomes too destitute, too lonely, and too wretched to walk alone. Resources are scarce, friends non-existent, and we are scared. The steak knife has a sharp blade, the veins are willing. It takes a lot of courage to answer the call.
Life is irreplaceable. There is always someone willing to listen. Just ask.
So, what is life? Just the faintest of breaths, thinner than a flame in the breeze, a whiff, a thready puff, a mist that makes a man move, which in a trice can evaporate, rendering him a cold mass of desires, joy, pain, aspirations and triumphs? As simple as that?
It is said in the Yajur Veda, ‘The moment this fire extinguishes, the soul departs’. Where did life go? Do we understand life now? No, we will never understand life, nor death. Both are enigmas which will always baffle mere mortals.
We are too insignificant to give life, yet we do, we give birth, that is giving life, but the source of life is another enigma. To those who believe, the source may be called god, or a force, or a being, or for those who are spiritual and do not practice an organised religion, it may be a concept. Whichever way we look at matters, life is too precious; we have the spirit in us to live our lives with dignity, with quality, and with self respect. Storms will swarm over us, flowers will grow under our feet, the rainbow will melt into our days, but we will strive ever onward.
And, as someone said, ‘Keep walking, but stop to smell the flowers”.
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