When I was young, family was priority and parents were always the center stage of life. Like all other inhabitants of earth, I treaded forward and got married to a man with similar values, had kids and ensured a smooth transfer of the values, which I expected them to imbibe for the rest of their lives. They grew up and I became old and some unknown boundary took my kids away from home and away from the legacy I had bequeathed. I started having silent attacks of asthma that would strike without warning. I took medicines and used my nebulizer, but the erratic nature of the disease put me under house arrest. I needed someone to care for me and thought I would have to appoint a nurse or get myself registered with some home for the old. The attacks became more frequent and one day my youngest daughter knocked at the door early morning and I saw she came with a truck load of stuff. I was confused and eventually she told me she got a job in the town and would stay with me from now onward. Her job did not pay her as well as the one she had left. This was for me and she looks after me and made me realize that her priority too was family.

Spending my days in the old age home has made me a hard bearer and I have learnt more lessons living here than in any other place. My eyes are weak and my legs don’t take me places without glitches. To top these trivialities, I was diagnosed with symptoms of Alzheimer’s; but when life carries no meaning, memory too becomes irrelevant. My caretaker at the center was a studious girl who wanted to help us and was always applying silly theories with the expectation that they would cure us. One day, she came in our dining hall during lunch carrying a big plastic bag. She opened it and took out these fancy dress garments that were more than colorful and childish for the oldies and instructed us to wear them for the evening. Unwillingly, we wore them and went to the common room where a party was thrown for us. It proceeded with apprehensions, but eventually we all got into the groove and forgot our age and our apathetic conditions. These party sessions were organized for a whole week and finally one Sunday evening she showed me a report that claimed better health statistics for all. She left the next day and no one knows where she went, but she gave us the gift of childhood and whenever I am able to remember the world, I see her smiling face.

I have been a patient of osteoporosis for over 10 years now and most of the time I remain glued to my bed, fearing the consequences I will have to suffer if I break my spinal bone or my hip bone. In fact, I spend my day just wondering how to stay away from accidents and, at times, get so irritated with my phobias that I forget to live life in the fear it might end. Just a few days back, my granddaughter came running to me and asked me what I would gift her for her upcoming 10th birthday and I told her it was 9 months away and that she could ask for whatever she wants. Her excitement for growing old was awe inspiring. My fears were underweighed by her enthusiasm for age and realized how I was losing my days in fear, rather than cherishing my time alive. The next day, I declared to my granddaughter that I am 85 and half years old, and I want a bicycle for my upcoming birthday.

By the age of 75 years, I had started gulping a liter of wine everyday and I would live through the week waiting for the Thursday paper to find out where I would get the best red wine. Retirement, loneliness and the aging years, all made me depressed and clumsy. Friends were busy, family not around and, therefore, I found a comfortable solace in the drunkenness. But one day, I opened my eyes to discover I was in the hospital and that I was diagnosed with cancer. I shared my room in the hospital with a young girl who was suffering from cancer like me. Every evening her mother would tell her stories describing beautiful places and she would fall asleep. In the morning, she would tell me that she will take me along to all these places only if I didn’t drink and got well soon. This girl was a miracle and I eventually left drinking just so I could see her smile. It’s been 2 years since I have left alcohol and although I still live with the cancer, it hurts less.

After living a healthy and disease free life for 82 years now, I got the shock of my life when I was diagnosed with a tumor one afternoon. It all started with a low hemoglobin content, which had decreased down to a whooping 5.1 and ultimately landed me in the department of chemotherapy. I was bed ridden and had huge boils that blotched my back. Recovery would take a long time and it saddened me that my age might not allow me to stand back on my feet. Lying on my bed each day, I waited for the morning sun to rise and every time I saw the gleaming rays filtering through my window. I realized the goodness in being alive and one fine day, I told myself to get back on the track of life as early as possible. Today is my 84th birthday and I walk around and play with my grandchildren, thanks to my will power and, of course, medical science without which I would have not survived to see this day.