My 12th Storey

My 7 year old daughter asked me the day before if I knew the meaning of Storey that is spelt s-t-o-r-e-y, I said yes. She was visibly excited (half hoping I would tell her a story) and asked me “then tell” and I said “floor of a building” and she asked “how did you know” and I said “I learnt, when I was little” and she seemed to be happy. For she had learnt it too. Now she knows that storey (also spelt 'story') is not the misspelled version of story (fable or tale), but a word that had a meaning of its own.

 

Now, she finds the view from up the 12th Storey of the 22-Storey Apartment much more beautiful than before. I think about it, makes me feel happy too. Reality is (and realty isn’t misspelled either!), it does look good from up there. The beautiful city of Cochin – unlike the concrete jungle typical of a city, has greenery all around, with villas, high-rise apartments, shopping malls, corporate buildings and other such concrete buildings harmoniously co-existing with nature.

The 12th Storey is actually our second home. We live in a 3-storey Apartment on the 2nd Storey and my folks stay in the 12th Storey of this 22 storey building, just a kilometer from our place. My daughter goes to the 12th Storey when she’s back from school. I’ve got a timetable ready for her, which needs a new look every other week (to keep her excited and inspire her to stick to the timetable at least until the newness lasts), or else it would turn into crushed paper finding its way into the bin.

Timetable goes something like this… (anticipated response in brackets)

• Take a shower, change clothes (ok, ok…)
• Drink milk, have a quick evening meal - my mom being a good cook, it is this time of the day my 7 year old girl relishes and eats the most (yum-scrum!)
• Study / do homework for 1 hour (grrrr….)
• Play with other children from the apartment – 1 hour (yipee!)
• Break – 15 min (hmmmm…)
• Study for 1 hour (oh no, not again!)
• TV for 30 min (only half hour? Not fair!)
• Keyboard Practice for 30 min (la, la, la….)
• Play at home or simply while away time till mommy arrives (yoo-hoo!)

Then mommy (that’s me) arrives to pick her up. My usual routine, I search the dabbas (containers) on the table, and gobble up the remains of mom’s special item for the day (cakes, bhajji, vada, cookies, pudding, kozhukatta, pazham-pori and her various other specialities & experiments!). I check the time. It’s late, got to go. The just 2-months-away-from-2-year old baby will be waiting in our 3-storeyed apartment.

We say bye-bye to the 12th Storey and jump into the elevator. Meet some acquaintances on the way, say hi, bye and the courtesies or small talk in between. Jump into the car and drive away.

I catch-up with my daughter on the way. She tells me the new things she has learnt. She is preparing for the elocution contest “Keep Kochi clean” which is the day after and she rehearses the speech with all the frills. I pat her on her back and we arrive at a 3-storey building.

We take the stairs up and ting-tong, the door opens to Baby (Becky) - all smiles with my t-shirt wrapped around her neck. She skips about in excitement and shows all her antics at one go, to show us what we’d missed. Transition from 12th Storey to 2nd Storey is complete.

And so goes my story…

Ne-po

She loves to strut around in an over-sized shoe

Walk high on heels with her tiny feet, but she’s all of two

She is bright and happy, naughty and yeah, accident-prone

From day to dusk, she keeps me on her toes, I thus bemoan

When she wakes up she wants the TV music turned on

And until the time she sleeps, it goes on and on and on

She hugs his t-shirt when he’s not around, feeling his warmth perhaps

And wraps my t around her neck to feel my embrace during her naps

She flashes the sweetest smile ever when up to a trick

And the heart, even if made of stone, will melt just as quick

She wants everything her bigger sister takes to study or play

She’s stubborn, nothing more - nothing less is just her way

She claps, she dances, she mimics, her actions speak a million words

And if you’re not looking, she’s on the table, licking up curds

Ne-po is the new word in her vocabulary, which she uses at will

She gets things done her way; you just can’t hold her still

She’s a little devil, at the same time, sweet as an angel

Fiddles with everything, but you can’t pull out the cudgel

She’ll jump off the ledge if you tell her “go”

She knows she’ll land safe, coz she trusts you so

All this and more, she is Becky, my darling baby

And I am discovering myself through her, maybe.

* Ne-po means go-away in the Gibberish Language Dictionary. She uses it - when she wants something (especially if it's something she shouldn't be wanting in the first place), when she wants things done her way, when she doesn't want somebody around her (after using up their service!), when she is fighting, etc. Wonder if we have a word like that in the Oxford English Dictionary that could mean all of this!

Bled to death…err…life!

It was well planned. The first time over, it had worked. They were confident it would work this time as well. They calculated the day they would do it, prayed and tried to keep calm, not wanting to leave anything to chance.

The day came and went. The countdown began. She had a gut-feeling it had worked. 30 days henceforth, they thought they’ll check. They were elated. On Cloud 9. They couldn’t contain the joy. But they weren’t all too sure.

They rushed to the hospital, pregnant with hope. The doc didn’t confirm it. Said “50-50...It could be ectopic. Come back 2 weeks later”. They were confused, but decided to wait patiently. It was only a matter of 2 weeks. They went again. This time it was confirmed. Their joy knew no bounds. They rejoiced. Shared the news with their child who had been feeling lonely all along and was eagerly waiting for some company. She was euphoric.

The first month went by. The doc seemed to carry some sort of resentment. Her face was always grim. And she always sounded negative. When she was shown an ultrasound report, she read “no foetal heart flicker was noticed” and went on to say that maybe because it was too early to notice, when the report actually said “foetal heart flicker was noticed”.

The lady had some bleeding (which started in the second month), so she was already worried. And to make matters worse, she had to deal with a doc who was driving her to the edge of her seat. The doc scheduled a visit a fortnight later, to do a second ultrasound.

They got there on time. The ultrasound was done. The radiologist said there was a huge subcutaneous clot and that the doc would advise what would be best. The doc (with her usual grim expression) declared that the chances of survival were slim. And asked the gentleman “Are you sure you want to proceed with it. Maybe we can wait a month more and then go for abortion.” They were furious. The doc must have been out of her mind to think they would actually want to abort when everything was planned well in advance. That was the last visit they paid to that doc.

The bleeding continued. The lady was confident though, because she had spotting during the first trimester of her first pregnancy, in spite of which she went on to have a normal pregnancy and delivery. She continued to go to work as usual. One day, the bleeding was heavy. She confided to one of her colleagues. Her colleague was disturbed. Wanted to rush her to the hospital right away. That got her thinking. She called her husband and they fixed an appointment with another gynaec later that evening.

They went to the hospital. The gynaec seemed friendly enough, in stark contrast to the other doc. She asked the usual questions and all seemed fine until…the lady revealed that she had some bleeding and that even in her previous pregnancy she had spotting in her first trimester. The doc said she wanted to check. Then she yelled at the husband, “how could you let your wife go to work when she’s bleeding like this? Get an ultrasound done immediately!” Now they were seriously worried. They rushed. There was a long wait. Eventually, the lady’s turn came and she went in. The gentleman’s heart was beating loud, so loud he was almost going deaf with the noise. The radiologist seemed friendly too. Calmly explained that there was a huge subcutaneous clot, but the foetus was doing ok. That was some relief. They rushed back to see the doc. The doc said “get admitted to the hospital right away!”

Horror struck (the lady hated hospitals!), she begged and pleaded with the doc that she would take complete bed rest if allowed to go home. The doc said a flat no. She insisted that the lady get admitted if she wanted the baby. 4 days lying on the bed, with IV plugged to her vein. It was awful. The gentleman was the bystander, so he missed work too. The day she was discharged, she felt better, as if, she was let out of prison. And that was the last time she saw this doc too.

There was a gynaec who was her neighbour. When the lady casually mentioned to her, her situation, the doc took a look at the ultrasound reports and advised that she drop in to her clinic some time for a quick check up. This doc discussed everything, why, what and how, so the lady was comfortable and decided to stick.

The months rolled by. The bleeding continued. There were self-administered injections and medicines (the so-called “blood clotters”), but no respite. All along, there was just one saving grace. The foetus was holding up fine. In the 9th month, they knew it was a girl baby, did some quick shopping and waited for the d-day. The lady continued to go to work. No hard labour. Just some light deskwork. She ambled in and ambled out.

One Sunday night (a week before her due date), she felt a funny pain in her abdomen. She couldn’t sleep the whole night. She couldn’t roll over either, because of her full blown tummy. She tried all positions, finally she sat up. In the morning, she told her hubby about the pain. They went to the doc, who lived just a couple of floors down their apartment. The doc checked. Said the lady was ready to deliver any time now. They went to the hospital.

In a few hours, the precious little baby came out. Normal delivery. Healthy baby. The lady and gentleman thanked God, their doctor and everybody else who supported them. At the end of a grueling 9 months journey, it was a happy ending after all!