Monday, 6 August 2012

Ahoy there!

Troubled times demand....

Lego pictures!

Enoch has just built two beautiful sailing ships - the one on the right is a pirate ship.

'You can see by the grim faces of the crew' says Enoch.






'The other one is a ship that searches the seas for pirates!'

Looks like the two ships have met each other!  Prepare to board - all men at action stations!


Thursday, 2 August 2012

Precious

A lot can happen in a day.  Or in a night.

On Sunday my good friend Vasu Vittal had a wonderful day.  An excellent message at church.  A good time with the family.  He was charged up for the week and all its challenges.  He cracked open a good book and was reading.

That was the last he remembered.

Vasu suffered a series of seizures that have turned his world upside down.

He was carried unconscious out of his home by a dear pastor friend who Vasu's wife Sheba had called to help after she found him convulsing.  They took him to a near-by hospital where he was put in casualty. Vasu was in tremendous pain and as he came to he called out about the searing pain in his arms.  He was put under heavy sedation.

The doctors then realised that he had dislocated both his shoulders - and x-rays showed a hair-line fracture on the left humerus and a splintering of the ball on the right.  Vasu had also lacerated his tongue during the seizures.

We got a call from Vasu's wife Sheba early on Monday morning - asking if the Bethany Hospital had any ICU beds.  We called up and found out that one was available - but when we called back Sheba said that they had found one in a hospital in Bandra which was closer to their first hospital.  The trip to Thane was considered too far given the injury Vasu had suffered in his arms.

Once Vasu was admitted to the ICU things started to settle.

The cause of all of this?  A brain infection by a stage of a tape-worm. The technical term is cysticercosis.  An MRI done on Vasu's brain showed a round ring which triggered the attack.  In India this disease is often spread faecal-orally through unwashed cabbage.  In other countries through undercooked meat.

I walked around in a shock when I heard what had happened to Vasu.  It just did not seem possible that this was happening to my dear friend.  Many prayers were said in our home for Vasu and Sheba - as well as their daughters Amy and Joanna (who are Asha and Enoch's age).

We then found out that Vasu was stable and in the ICU - but that the needed orthopaedic surgeries could not be done since the medication being used to dear with the cysticercosis was causing cerebral swelling and that would impair the anaesthesia.

The next thing we heard was that he was imobile and wanted to get out of the ICU, but that beds were not available.

Late this morning we got the good news that a bed was available and that he would be shifted to the 'wards.'



































I went to see Vasu.

Its only now that he can talk with the lacerations of his tongue getting better.

It broke my heart to see him strapped up - immobile.  But he was so brave - and Sheba has been doing an amazing job keeping things going over this helter-skelter week that they are living.

The next steps are a discharge being planned for Saturday - and then orthopaedic surgery to screw in the ball of his right humerus.

Its not what anyone would wish.  But that's how quickly things can turn turtle.

Vasu said he has been overwhelmed by the outpouring of prayer and messages of support that he and the family have received.  Its hard to accept help - especially when you feel powerless.  Having dislocated both shoulders and having fractured both arms at once.

Sheba showed me the MRI of the brain.  As small white ring showed up in one of the images.  For some reason it reminded me of a wedding ring left on a dark-room paper.  It looked so out of place - an almost perfect circle in the flowery lettuce-imprint that a cross-section of the brain shows.

How much damage can come from small things.

I shared with Vasu what I had been reading in the morning - and which I felt spoke out to him and his family:

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
And when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
When you walk through the fire,
you will not be burned'
the flames will not set you ablaze.
For I am the LORD your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Saviour;
I give Egypt for your ransom,
Cush and Sheba in your stead.
Since you are precious and honoured in my sight,
and because I love you.   (Isaiah 43.1b-4a)


We do go through deep valleys - we do face real dangers - our worlds can turn inside-out and upside-down just like Vasu and Sheba's world did.  But we have One who looks after us.  Who even in the worst of crises is there for us.  

I reflected on the fact that God does not promise to take away our problems - but that He promises His presence in the midst of them - and His protection from evil.  We are precious in His sight - and He loves us.  

I was reminded of what our friend Caleb Baber - a double amputee - had told us of his experience with brushing-with-death multiple times and the often frustrating road to recovery from severe injury.  Caleb said that he had been deeply imprinted with two solid thoughts - that God is sovereign - and that God is good.  Though Caleb knew that he did not understand all that was going on in his life - especially in the initial haze of the injury and fighting for life - he held on to this promise.

As I was praying with Vasu, a couple came in.  Dear friends of Vasu.  Others will be trooping up to the 7th floor to be with this amazing man and pray and comfort him and Sheba.  Hopefully Amy and Joanna will meet their Daddy soon too.  

Your prayers will speed Vasu's recovery and guide the family in the next steps that they are courageously taking.

Crush

I am home.  Panting.  Without my umbrella (make that Sheba's umbrella that I borrowed for the afternoon).

At 2.45 in the afternoon I left the JSK Centre for Bandra. There was a huge crowd on railway platform number 2.  I thought a few trains had been cancelled.  Then I remembered that it was a festival day today - Raksha Bandan - and many people were travelling.  Not the normal 3 PM smudge of people on the railway station (it never is 'empty' except when the trains don't run between 1 and 4 am).  A crowd.  A huge swelling crowd.

I managed to get onto a train to Dadar - and the switched back to Bandra without too much ado.  I visited my friend Vasu at the hospital (more about him in the next post) and then reversed my tracks.  The trains were crowded - but not the normal 'no-room-to-breath-crush' that the denizens of Mumbai have to deal with every crush-hour-morning-and-evening.

Then it happened.

I got off at Thane station, happy to have caught a fast train from Dadar and looking forward to getting home.

I started up the foot-overbridge which was chock-a-block with people.  Normal.  There was a wedge of people moving from below - pushing me and others up.  A wedge of people were coming down from above.

Then things started to get crazy.  The people from above were pushing down.  Laughing.  A few abuses were hurled.  We tried to keep going foward.  And then panic started to creep in.  The fear of being crushed suddenly loomed large.

No.  This can't be happening.  But it was. I was being pushed uncontrollably.  I was shouting stop to the people coming down. They didn't.  I started to tumble back.  I lost my chappal. Was it going to be the end?

Somehow I regained footing.  The people from above were pushing everyone down.  Somehow we managed to get down again.  I was without my chappal.  At the bottom of the stairs again I was sweaty and bruised.  The umbrella was gone.

I was alive.  The unthinkable didn't happen.  Yet.

A few minutes later I went up again.  A single line going up.  I managed to find the chappal.

I thank the Lord for His mercy in keeping me alive.  And all the others in that narrow tunnel.  So slender is the thread on which we live.  Each breath is a gift.

Monday, 30 July 2012

Sleep

Mr. Tarak was admitted on Saturday.  His brother found out about Jeevan Sahara Kendra via the internet.

Mr. Tarak has a very low immunity due to his HIV.  He also has a severe case of tuberculosis.  He is also suffering from Parkinsons disease.

When he was admitted he was so depressed and sad he actually asked Sheba to give him euthenasia.  He wanted Sheba to give him 'an injection to finish him off.'

We prayed with Tarak.  Our nurses looked after him.

Because of his current set of sicknesses Tarak has not been able to sleep properly for 15 days.

Sheba wanted to give him a sedative in the night - but it was not available.  She talked to Tarak and his wife.  She told him that in the Bible it is written that God 'gives his beloved sleep' - and that Tarak was very loved by God.

Sheba prayed with Tarak.

When she checked in on him this morning - on our way to church - she found him to be so cheerful - and his wife so grateful.  Tarak had slept all through the night.

God answers prayers.  Tarak still has a very long way to go.  But here is a small but significant victory in the care of this dear man.

We continue to be running the Jeevan Sahara Kendra with the most skeleton of nursing staff - but each one of them who are with us pour out their lives into our patients.  And we have a loving God who reaches out to touch so many of his complicated children - through us.

Humbling.

Wednesday, 25 July 2012

Two brothers

So how does my Uncle Jack look like now?  Well, Dad asked for a picture - and got one.  I have been looking at the picture - studying it - trying to see parts of Dad (and by extension... me) in Jack's face.

Here are the two brothers: 

Sylvia and Jack Vauqulin

Christa and Ray Eicher

Unbeknownst to each other - they both Jack and Dad were in India at the same time in 1958-1959.  Dad was finishing high school in Kodaikanal. He graduated in 1959 - and then went to the US for college.  At that time Uncle Jack was in Doomdooma, Assam where his daughter Dawn was born in 1960 at the Longsoal hospital in Panitola, Assam.   By the time Dad returned to India in 1964 Jack had left to go back to South Africa.

Finding a brother, searching for a mother

Two weeks ago my father  told me something that I had least expected.  He found his brother.
A brother that he did not know even existed.

Dad will be 71 this year – and was adopted by Elmore and Alice Eicher when he was 10 days old.  They named him Raymond Elmore Eicher – after their dear friend Raymond Smith and his adopted father.

Dad’s biological mother – who had come to the Wanless Mission hospital in Miraj, Maharashtra for the convalescence and delivery - then disappeared from Dad’s life.

Little did we know that she had already disappeared from the lives of two other sons.

Earlier this month my sister Premila came across this message:

"I am trying to trace any information regarding my mother.
She was married to Dudley Vauqulin of "Hollywell", Northiam,Sussex who was an officer in the Royal Sussex Regiment and Indian Army, She was Betty Isabel Doncaster Vauqulin nee Sowman.
My father was born in 1903 and died in 1954.
Thank you, Jack Vauqulin"

She replied to the address stating that her father was the son of Betty Isobel Sowman Vauqulin. 
Jack Vauqulin wrote back – and Premi was able to link him up with Dad.
Jack is three years older to Dad.  He had another brother John who has died, and an older step-brother Peter (from his father’s previous marriage) who has also passed away.
Betty Isobel Doncaster Vauqulin, nee Sowman
Jack grew up without his mother too.  Jack was born in Britain in 1938 – and the whole family – his father Dudley Vauqulin being an officer in the Indian army – came to India at the end of 1938.  Both Dudley and Betty had some India roots - with Dudley's parents marrying in Calcutta (she was from an Assam plantation family) and Betty's father being in the army in Allahabad. 

Something happened in those years, as Jack and his brothers were then taken by his father back to Britain in 1940.  Their mother Betty did not go back with them .  Jack and his brothers were looked after by a nanny on the ship.
Jack never saw his mother again – though he was told that she had attended his father’s funeral in the UK in 1953 without him or his brother John knowing she was there.

This is a photo that Jack sent Dad of their mother. 
Jack’s life has been adventurous to say the least.   As a child of 12 the family emigrated to South Africa – where he did his schooling and then joined the Royal Marines as an 18 year old.  After a three year stint Jack served as an outward bound instructor before he joined his brothers in Assam as on the tea plantations in 1958.  All the brothers were 'mad sportsmen and played a lot of 1st class rugby'. 

The Assam Rugby team - winners of the All India Rugby Tournament in 1959  (Peter Vauqulin was the captain - John Vauqulin was away in Britain for this tournament)  HT: Koi Hai

Jack married Daphne in 1959 and their daughter Dawn was born in Assam in 1960.  Then it was back to Africa in 1961 where Jack became the MD of a company that imported and sold Landrover, Austin and Morris cars.  A stint in Australia in the 1970s included more diving and more cars - another a motor dealership in Australia.  Finally he returned to South Africa where he ran an animal safari business.  In 1990 he went back to England and 'retired' and married Sylvia.  Retirement included running a successful pub for some time and currently 'play[ing] with Morris Minor cars.  we buy - rebuild where necessary and sell.'  

Jack's daughter Dawn is in the UK, and the children of his brothers Peter and John (both of whom passed away) are in the UK and South Africa, Which means I have cousins in both places.  

My grandmother holding Dad when he was 2 days old
Dad and Jack are still very much in the process of getting to know each other – and trying to figure out where their mother ended up.  Dad has till now only had one single photo of his mother – the one where she holds him as a baby of 2 or 3 days old.  Now he has more.  Jack has sent some beautiful black and white snaps of their mother.  
Both Dad and Jack continue to search for their mother Betty.  Jack heard something said about a Canadian man.   One of the nurses who looked after Dad when he was born wrote to him in 1973. The nurse said she saw an announcement in the Times of India that his mother was engaged to a man whose name she was not familiar with.

Yesterday I was helped to find the long-lost engagement announcement.  The social and personal news of the Times of India 25th June 1945 issue states that Betty, the daughter of Lt. – Colonel U.D. Sowman was engaged to Lt. Colonel Robert Benjamin Gonville, the son of Major and Mrs. B.G. Bromhead.    A quick check on Colonel Robert Benjamin Gonville Bromhead shows (in Burkes peerage no less) that he got married in 1947 - but the name mentioned is not my biological grandmother.   What happened between June 1945 and January 1947 is not clear – it seems that Betty was engaged to him – but he married someone else.   What I had hoped would be the definitive to link Dad’s mother does not at first blush seem to pass through Col. Bromhead (who fought with the Chindits in Burma and ended up with a CBE).

And so Dad’s quest to find his mother continues.  Where did Betty go?  Did she change her name?  Was there a Canadian connection after all?  She seems to have been alive at least in 1953.  But then after that what happened? 
In the meantime – Dad has gained a brother after not knowing his entire life so far that he had one!  I have gained an uncle and a number of cousins who it will take quite some time to start to get to know.  

Hats off to Premila for finding Uncle Jack’s posting about his mother!
We have also gained a big additional chunk of family history to an already complicated tale.  Enter the British Indian Army and Assam Tea Planter community.  Two groups that are colonial to the core.  I have always felt that we had nothing to do with the colonial enterprise.  In my mind’s eye my biological grandmother ‘was only in India because her father was in the army’…  but with us stumbling upon Uncle Jack shows that there are other streams that have flowed into us too!

A lot to chew on.
I am very grateful for Dad that he found his brother.  It’s a whole new world we never knew existed.