Final thoughts. Post-India.

Greetings from Oregon!

Precursor: while proofreading this entry I realized it is beautiful madness and unprompted randomness. Thoughts and reflections poured from my fingertips, often in what seems like no particular order. The randomness of this upload is both frustrating and gleeful. It makes me realize that so much has happened in the past 10 weeks. My memories and tasks have been documented in chronological order. Each week I have posted pictures and paragraphs of perspective, but now, in a final compilation any precise order is impossible. So enjoy the madness that is my final reflections of India.

I have been compiling this post for the past 2 weeks. 

Lets walk through my final reflections together…

December 6, Tuesday

I still have 4 days left in India, 3 days in Pune and one day in Delhi. I have so many IE3 questions to answer, evaluations to finish and another blog to upload about my week 9 week, and my last week in India. I don’t want to write about that though, my mind is not in the right place to write about a small fraction of my trip. All I can think about it what I am going to say in my final words.

I made one of the best decisions of my life coming to India…. Duh! This internship has been a long time coming, it all started in the international affairs office at the University of Oregon. I talked to several advisors trying to decide what program, and what country would be the best fit for me. Then I found India. I had the whole world to explore, but the CFHI India program called my name the strongest. 

Once I made up my mind about applying, not going to India was not an option.

I remember calling my mom as I was walking home from the study abroad office saying I was going to India. Now my time is dwindling. Ten weeks later, the internship I wanted so badly is almost over.

December 9, Friday

I am on the plane ride to Delhi, my last stop before my final flight home. I am looking out the window. This is some of the only time I have nothing to do but sit and write. My chance to reflect before I board a 15.5 hour ride to New Jersey tomorrow.

.

The Himalayans are brown now.

They were beautiful shades of green when I was in the village of Patti in northern India. The monsoon season brought life to the plants, crops, flowers and the mountainside, but the heat has taken it away. 

I came to India at a spectacular time; I saw the country in the few months it has mild weather, and wonderful shades of green (at least in the beginning).

It may be winter here, but 70 degree Fahrenheit hardly constitutes winter in my world.  I am going to be so damn cold when I get off the plane in New Jersey. I am sure in my Post-India entry I will be commenting on this.

I am so thankful I had the opportunity to attend so many cultural traditions. Again, I was in India at the perfect time, I lucked out in so many different ways. I was lucky enough to be included just like family. The holidays and festivals of Dashara, Diwali, a birthday party, a baby-shower, a big and beautiful wedding, several Punjabs (Indian religious ceremonies) and several many family dinner gatherings. I was exposed to so many aspects of Indian life, I couldn’t have asked for more.

I wonder if everything will be eerily quiet when I get home. I fall asleep to whistles, honking, music, commotions, and other noises every night. A pleasurable aspect of the US is that it is calm and quiet in the majority of the parts. How evident will it be when I return?

Another thing I noticed—I now feel comfortable in India. I could come back (or when I come back) I think and hope it will pick up right where I left off. Some things may change but the warm welcome I know I will receive will be sincere. I feel so much genuine fondness around me.

Sanskruti/Chawkoli, Dada and Manisha’s daughter will be grown and talking, Apurva and Shamika will have graduated. Dr Gandhi will be one or two years closer to retiring (retiring at 45 sounds damn good to me). Many emails of keeping in touch will have been sent, and Dr. Rajan Joshi and his wife Vidya will still be working long hours at Mangeshkar.

People actually want me to come back, actually insist I come back. It is a wonderful feeling.

I have acquired 100+ bug bites in my ten-week period, a tan from Goa, global perspective, new friends, and new immunity to hundreds of bacteria. My immune system is as strong as I hoped it would be! I feel great both physically and mentally.  Drinking the water while doing my best to stay protected has increased my immunity towards several bugs. Going to India has built me to be both healthier and happier.  I have also gained an unbelievable amount of toughness to odd looking bugs. 

State-to-state I never imagined the enormous amount of culture discrepancies I would find. In northern India, people speak Hindi, make chapatti thicker and smaller in diameter; they use different oils and different kitchen utensils. The food is different. Besides a simple potato and vegetable dish, nothing I ate was the same. Southern India’s mother tongue is Marathi, spices are used in different combinations, tea is made differently and all general preparations differ; housing is different, smells and even sounds are different. Don’t worry however the horns and honking still VERY much exist.

Everything is unique by location. I must add in my personal opinion: I like the southern food much, much more. Maybe it was an increased exposure to the food because of my several caretakers, but it was wonderful. The food diary I posted will be extremely useful when I get home. Along the Oregon Interstate-5 highway (or expressway if you’re in India) from Portland to Eugene there are probably 50+ Indian restaurants. That may even be an understatement. Pre-Indian adventure I never knew there were so many variations. Hopefully finding Dosa in Oregon wont be that hard.

I would like to think I have had an effect on other people, at least a fraction of the amount that I have been impacted. I may be learning, but I also feel I as though I have been able to share my own lessons too.  

Now I am on the plane to New Jersey. Continental flight CO-083, an upcoming 15.5 hours on a jet plane. It is over.

Happy and sad.

I am excited to go home, but as I have indicated several times it is a bittersweet ending. So many long-distance relationships to keep, so many emails to write, but so much happiness in doing so.

Now I am on my flight from Newark, New Jersey to Portland, Oregon. Home sweet home. My India adventure has officially concluded. In 5 hours I will be standing on the same ground I left 10 weeks ago.

My 10 weeks in India were amazing; it has been everything I wanted it to be. Professionally I was exposed to an astounding number of patients. It would be a safe judgment to say that the number of patients I saw in my ten weeks was more that if I would have been doing the same thing at home in 6 months (seriously).

It is amazing what hard workers Indians are. Dedication to your trade is seen all over the world, but it was overwhelmingly noticeable to me in India.

Brute Strength.

They may only be a vegetable seller, but you better believe those vegetables will be stacked meticulously, sorted by weight, or just a naturally bright display.

Awful picture of both me and Taylor, but this has to be in the final reflections. No shame because the bus ride was even more awful than this snapshot.

My trip was near pristine….

Except… this particular bus ride back from Daramshala (see post from week 4). Crowded, smelly, dirty, crowded, smelly, dirty... but another story to tell. I am happy to have found my optimism along this trip, it has really enabled me to find the positive aspects in all of my experiences, good or bad. 

It would be unreasonable to think that only positive things were possible in India.

Another adventure to share…

Now some simple, random things to comment on:

In no particular order here is a list of details I haven't shared previously!!

Complete Randomness.

What I don't, won't and will miss about India; what I enjoyed, and what I didn't enjoy

Here it goes.... 

Horn prohibited… HA!

I think I will enjoy the transportation alternatives when I return to the United States.

Dedication to making a dollar; even if only stacking and selling fruits and vegetables the display is normally phenomenal.

Healthcare drastically differs between government and private sectors. It is unbelievable.

Life and the way of living drastically differs between the rural and city areas. The poverty, and the divide between rich and poor is heartbreaking at times. 

Teatime is me time.

India has some of the craziest, but most attentive drivers in the world, no exaggeration. I am still shocked I never saw a scooter or car accident or even a patient in the hospital due to a collision!

I am still shocked at how many people they can pack into a bus…It is a constant game of human Tetris!

Note: This picture is VERY deceiving, it is at least 25 people over the limit.

Or fit on a scooter…

One time I saw 5!!!!

I will miss the exotic fruit available for only 10-30 cents. Three Guavas for a dollar! Yes please!

I most certainly won’t miss the worst toilet I had the oppurtunity to use. 

Preferable bathrooms exist as well!

I don’t miss hand washing my own clothes. You would be surprised to know how much dirt and dust can change the color of water. 

Coming back to the states...

It is cold.

There is so much technology everywhere. I have a cell phone with Internet access 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Unbelievable.

I still cannot believe I saw the Taj Mahal!

It is cold.

I felt hunger for the first time in 10 weeks, and I haven’t been sickly full either.

There hasn’t been any power surges or outages.

It is cold. 

I am excited to share my pictures, fabrics and presents with everyone.

I miss the straight forward advertisement. 

It is quiet, but I don’t notice it as much as I thought I would.

I miss going to the hospitals everyday. I realized I feel at home in the hospitals. I love helping people. I wouldn't be happy in any other profession.

Since I still think in Indian currency (rupees) and Indian prices, food is expensive--everything is expensive here for that matter.

People drive in their own lanes and abide by traffic laws. Cars stop at red lights.

It is not crowded here, there is so much space to walk on the sidewalks!

I haven’t unpacked my suitcases yet.

The Christmas lights remind me of the Diwali lights.

Police cars are everywhere.

I miss teatime.

I miss yoga.

Most notably however, I miss all of the wonderful Indian people.

Everyone is so genuine and helpful, even to a complete stranger. I wish I could make one huge collage displaying all of the individuals who made my India experience as great as it was, but even 100 pictures probably couldn't include everyone.

December 15, Thursday

The first day I have re-opened my word document to work on my blog since I left India.

I had over 24 hours of flying, reflecting, cruising through pictures, and sharing my experiences with who ever would listen to me. 

On Sunday the 11^th I was back in the states with warm and exciting greetings from my friends and family. It was so exciting to have an entourage waiting for me at the airport. It was a reminder of how much love I am surrounded with, and how many people missed me back home. It is amazing; as I sit on my comfy couch at home India seems like one big dream. I haven’t gotten emotional yet, but I foresee it happening. Going back to a routine of school, gym, food and home is going to get boring really fast, that I know for sure, but for now I am content.

I may have enjoyed or disliked several things in the past ten weeks… I may miss some things, or not miss things, but I undoubtedly learned one thing. I probably knew it all along, but traveling to a country 8000 miles away from home made all of these things very apparent...

I am so fortunate to have had this oppurtunity.

I am so fortunate for all of my friends and family.

I am so fortunate to have everything I have in my life.

Life is good. 

Sometimes it may not feel that way, but when it all comes down to it, it is. Some people have it better than you do, and others have it way worse than you do.  I think I have seen the two extremes.

Going to India has given me so many things. Besides the vast amount of personal and professional accomplishments, I have gained incredible global perspective. India has a special place in my heart, but further than just the pure enjoyment of my internship, it makes me so appreciative to live in the United States. 

It helped me recognize how lucky I am to have the life I do.

For now, I end with this.

Dr. Gandhi is writing a book titled

Life is beautiful*

*conditions apply

I couldn't  agree more.

I am sure I will be writing again soon, but for now-- that is all.

Xoxo,

India and Shelane

To all of my new friends in India:

I may have returned to home sweet home, but don’t worry... I’ll be back! Not just because I made so many promises to return, but because I genuinely want to.

You can’t get rid of me that easy anyway.

The final days. Week 10

I left off in my last post with days on the beach, an Indian wedding and another day in the hospital. So now I move on to the last weekend in India, and the final workweek before I board the big bird in the sky and return to home. Let’s begin…

December 2, Friday

Mumbai.

I have seen nine cities all around India, Mumbai was the last stop taking the count to an even 10! I left Friday morning on a non-stop, 3.5 hour train ride to India’slargest city. I arrived a little after 10 and was off in search for a hotel. Originally I planned to stay one night in a nice hotel and explore two days. Plans changed. Similar to my adventurous attitude I had in Goa I went without any hotel reserved. Good thing. The taxi took me all over town while I searched for a reasonably priced, nice hotel with Wi-Fi. No such luck. In a big city, a 5 meter x 5 meter small room was 5000-6000 rupees. Not worth it to me. So instead I had the taxi driver give me a small tour around the city. The sights I was told to see:

Bain temple

The Victorian

Dhobi Ghey

Taj mahal hotel

Gateway of India

Marine drive

Fish aquarium (random and not nearly as cool as ours)

Mani Bhavan

Kam La Nehru Park

You still find the big city sadness

Buhu Chowpatt

(sorry if I butchered the spelling, the taxi drivers spelling may not be correct) 

The mumbai cloths washing capital!

It had many attributes of a big city.

Once I had seen the city it was back to square one. I would rather spend my last weekend in Pune. Mumbai was a big city, it was similar to Delhi and as a solo white woman my options of exploring were limited. I didn’t know what I would do for 72 hours. So I left.

Oh, and once I finished sightseeing, I decided to spend the money I would have spent on a hotel for a day at the spa. A 1-hour aromatherapy massage, a 1-hour Thai massages and a 1-hour reflexology. Wonderful.

Impulsively I stopped my taxi-provided tour at the bus station, and once again the story began to get interesting.

It was around 7 PM. While I was in the process of buying a bus ticket home, two women approached me. “Are you going to Pune?”

“Yes”, I said.

“Would you like to split a taxi with us back to Pune, the bus makes lots of stops and could take 5 hours. A taxi will only take 3 or 4 depending on traffic, and it is cheaper!”

Count me in!

The drive took around 3.5 hours, making the time 10:30 PM. Late for a woman to take the 10 km (30 minute rickshaw ride) back to the guest house, but I wasn’t too worried. With the sightseeing taxi-ride and a massage I never had the chance to eat, and at one point I made a comment about being hungry... As per Indian hospitality, one of the girls, Radhika invited me to her house to share some dinner.

I couldn’t resist.

Dada, and the Dabak’s didn’t know I was home, so food wasn’t easily accessible anywhere else, and it was late, and I love meeting new people. After all, my trust had been built after a 210 minute cramped taxi ride. She was 32, married with an 8 year old, and lived with her in-laws. The taxi station was near her house so within the hour a hot meal was in front of me.

Another unexpected adventure and another story to tell.

Her mother in-law was an older lady who was SO excited I had come for a visit. She immediately whipped up tea and a small dinner. All she wanted to do was make me comfortable, even with my pleading for her not to go to such the trouble. They were indisputably nice people.

After dinner, we chatted about my escapades through India while I shared pictures of my family and friends back home. By now it was 11:30 PM and I insisted it was time to get on the road. It was very late and the rickshaws don’t like driving past 10. I packed up my belongings and was walked out by the whole family.

Again, the plot thickens…

The only rickshaw we could find wanted to charge 300 rupees, OUTRAGEOUS, and no other driver wanted to make the trek across city.

Her husband and mother in-law starting chatting in Mahrati, looked at me and then proposed that I should stay with them for the night.

“You are a guest in my home, if anything were to happen to you tonight, I would feel personally responsible. Please, it would be an honor for you to stay with us, our guest is our god, and you are so wonderful. If you don’t mind a small mattress, please stay.”

I couldn’t resist.

They were so sincere, and genuinely concerned for my safety.

How typical of Shelane. I stayed the night with a family I had only known for an hour.

My compelling argument if you think it was a rash and irresponsible decision: I had spent 3.5 hours in a taxi with this women. She was older and I knew her life story by the time we got to Pune; she opened a boutique on her own.

It had to be safe! I slept well, and was warmly awakened with tea and breakfast biscuits. After about an hour, I decided it was really time to head home. With a warmhearted goodbye I boarded the rickshaw.

I told you it was an interesting story; definitely blog material.

Of course I couldn’t leave without a picture.

December 3, Saturday

I love Pune. After 5 weeks I am comfortable here. I may not be able to tell the exact the longitudinal and latitudinal coordinates in relation to the guesthouse, but I recognize the malls, shopping, restaurants and home.

I am unbelievably talented at pointing to a scribbled address written in Mahrati. I arrive at my destination trouble free [80% of the time] Even with mis-direction a phone call to Dada to lead the way with direction works every time.

I was on my own, with the whole day ahead of me, time to make the rounds through the city I have become so comfortable in.

First stop: M.G. Road AKA Camp. AKA the market, and the most westernized part of Pune. I didn’t have the intention of shopping; I just wanted to stroll around the city. I found mango dip cones (mango ice cream dipped in “turtle shell” chocolate--that hardening stuff when it touches cold).  I bought a cone, sat down at a table, pulled out my journal (not my blog, but the personal leather bound journal I bought in Daramshala). I have been behind on journaling lately. I had been focusing on things like blogging, working at the hospitals, IE3 paper work and evaluations, exploring the city and so, so much more. I just didn’t have the time to dedicate to the more personal aspects I have experienced. So I made time. I filled several pages with thoughts, memories, perspective and judgments, and when I was satisfied with the content I walked around some more. The sun was shining, and people were everywhere.

Mid journal intermission-

I find myself not being able to blog solely on the tasks of the day anymore. As the end nears I feel it a necessity to reflect and add in the little things.

Continuing on…

It was Dada’s wedding anniversary so he was spending the day in anther parts of the city. When I returned home I was by myself, and it was late. I watched a movie, and happily went to sleep.

December 4, Sunday

Many places to explore, and time is running out! So I got up early and went on my way.  I spent another beautiful day roaming the streets. The daytime was short as the night time would be long and the highlight of the week: party on the terrace of Mr. and Mrs. Dabak’s house. It would be a fabulous congregation of all the doctors, and colleagues in the program. Hema was also in attendance, she is the CFHI India [head-honch] coordinator who spoke at a United Nations meeting. She is kind of a big deal! 

I am glad to have met her. Apurva, Dada, the Dabaks, some other friends, and all of the doctors I had worked with over the previous 5 weeks, all together at once. What a special night. Another highlight was meeting my IE3- CFHI Oregon coordinator. He works in Portland, Corvallis and Eugene but somehow we  never crossed paths before. Correspondences for months, and several phone calls later we finally got to shake hands. It was a welcome party for him and Hema, a Sunday night get-together for all of the Doctors and Pune residents, and a going away party for me! I decided to dress up again in a saree--after all this would probably be the last Indian special shin-dig I would experience. Besides, they are extremely fun to wear!

I must admit, originally it was slightly awkward being surround by so many CFHI proprietores but Apurva and I chatted while everyone helped themselves to snacks and soda. She wants to work for CFHI in the future so both of us were very excited to jump into the conversation. She would be a great womn for the job.

This party only happens once a year, and I am glad I could be there. The Dabaks were wonderful hosts; there was food, good conversation and even alcohol. Dr. Dabak asked if I drink hard alcohol in the United States, and if I did I was welcomed to pour myself one. Originally I didn’t know what the right answer was but I couldn’t lie, I admitted I did, and had a drink. All CFHI coordinators took part in a before dinner drink. It was the perfect time to spark conversations unrelated to the hospitals or patients. We could actually talk about ourselves. I bonded with several doctors particularly Dr. Rajan Joshi and his wife, Vidya. It was a lovely night that I will remember forever.

Nobody wanted the conversations to end, but around midnight we decided the party had to end.I wide rome sideways on a bike. It was both terrifying and conquering. Love you Dada, but you are too damn small. I look massive next t you 5 foot stature. 

December 5 & 6, Monday and Tuesday

Back to Mangeshkar hospital. I have spent a lot of my stay in Pune at this particular hospital. I like it. Doctors know me and I am free to roam about the corridors as I see fit. 

At the party I was approached by the hospital administer; I had met her my first day at Mangeshkar, but hadn’t seen her since. She asked me why I hadn’t come to her office again, as she would have helped me see other departments besides the labor room. I was confused by what she meant because I had visited several other floors at the hospital.

The labor room:

 I roamed at my own will, visiting the oncology, hematology, emergency room, pediatric and developmental ODP (out patient department), NICU, operation theatre and the recovery room (maybe others too). She was both glad and impressed that I took the initiative to explore the hospital on my own.

This particular day was slow so I left for home early. 9 AM- 2 PM isn’t necessarily a short shift, but since the labor and deliver room was baby-free, I saw it appropriate to depart. I had other things on my agenda anyway.

I returned home, changed and immediately traveled back into the city. The guesthouse is on the outskirts of town so anywhere I wanted to go was approximately a 100 rupee/ 20 minute rickshaw ride away.

Monday night adventures:

Deccan Street. A strip of small boutiques and restaurants and also the location of my favorite restaurant which is famous for my favorite dinner in India, dosa. I had been to this restaurant before with the girls on Thanksgiving. I knew it was good! So I sat down and had a similar time as Sunday. Very intently I filled more pages in my journal and people watched in the very overcrowded restaurant. Very entertaining. Two things about this situation are noteworthy.

1.     The power goes out often in India. The first few weeks I found this both annoying and startling, but now… I don’t even notice it. The lights went out 8 or 9 times during my dinner, an unusually large number, even for India, but I found myself patiently waiting until the generator would turn on, or the power would return. It may be a nuisance, but I was strangely unbothered.

2.     As I was writing in my journal a woman, about my age approached my table. She said that she had seen me the day before on M.G. Road, writing in the same journal, just as intensely. She curiously asked me what in the hell I was writing. She said she had seen me a few times prior, but couldn’t pass up the chance to ask about my journal and my travels to India. I never got her name but I gave her a ten minute synopsis about my travels and experiences. She was shocked. Shocked and jealous that in a short, 10 week period I had traveled more of India than she had. She grew up in Pune, and had only twice been to other cities (Mumbai and Agra for the Taj Mahal).

Now I was the one who was shocked. I thought how could you live in a country and never see any of it. At first I immediately assumer it do to the gender roles of India; which for the majority is correct, women don’t travel alone. Women of my age particularly don’t travel alone. She said she was inspired to do more traveling, and was happy to have met someone who was enjoying India so much. It was an abruptly started and an abruptly ended meeting-- she had left her friends to come chat and got pulled away unwillingly.

I have no idea who this girl was, but after she left I couldn’t help but think of our conversation. I am so lucky. So lucky to have come on this internship. There are so many people who never explore outside their own borders. It made me think about the several people from home, in Oregon that have never left the state. I can’t imagine. Traveling is one of the most rewarding things you can do for yourself. Perspective, culture, new friends, and new stories. After I told her all of these things my advice to her was to just pack up her suitcase and Go! I hope she did. I would like to think I made an impression on her. If I can do it, she can too!

Within a few minutes I returned to journaling (and added her into it), finished my dosa and Mazza soda (mango flavored soda made by Coco-cola, delicious, and only in India). 

Tuesday night Adventures:

Luxmi road: the traditional Indian market in town. 

Streets lined with shops of fabric, gold and silver, clothing, restaurants and food stands, jewelry, cookware, fruit stands and flea markets, flowers , decorations, novelty items and other handmade goods.

You wont find anything walmart-esque on Luxmi road!

Although this could be considered a ‘tourist’ spot since the shopping is so abundant, ultimately this area serves the natives. Crowded, loud, busy and bursting with color. I couldn’t describe an Indian congregation better even if I tried. This time I wasn’t alone however, I was roaming around with Eric, my IE3 and India advisor. He was only in town for a few days, he had an assignment to film some footage for a work project, and explore. Count me in!

This isnt me and Eric on Luxmi road it is when he came and visited me in the hospital!

We toured around that part of town for 3-4 hours. I finished up the night with some last minute souvenirs and ANOTHER festival. This time it wasn’t Hindu, but Muslim. Originally neither Eric nor I new what the celebration was for, but a shop owner filled us in. There were so many police and gaurds, and huge crowds. A crowd formed around us at one point--- the digital camera seems to attract unwavering attention every time. 

Eric got pulled aside by an officer (and of course I followed) he politely told us to keep moving if we were done for pictures. I initially thought we were getting kicked out (eek!) :-/ but only safe precautions to avoid a big scene. Good advice officer [dressed in a tan colored suit] holding a large rifle and big stick. The police were large in number and on high alert. 

The drums played, and a large procession of hand-made towers, fire, smoke, streamers and happy people walked the streets.

Who knew we would have front row seats to a festival. As the sky darkened, the lights glowed brighter. 

By eight it was time to go home. I said farewell to Eric as he was flying out early in the morning. It was another conversation to enjoy, I left with a sense of comfort knowing that every students trip to India has to come to an end at some point. I know he will be a good source of consolation when I get home and my reverse culture shock begins. 

December 7, Wednesday

Wednesday = Pediatric OPD time with Dr. Rajan Joshi!

74 patients in 3 hours = A LOT of exposure. As a student you can see a massive amount of patients in a short time.

I saw the usual cough and cold however I also saw the bizarre and extremely unfortunate. A ten year old boy who had come in a month prior with complaints of an on-going headache and blurry vision in the right eye. A CT scan and MRI later they discover a 3cm cystic mass near his optic chiasm (where your optic nerves crisscross) It was benign, but growing quickly, he had to have it surgically removed resulting in permanent blindness, partial paralysis of facial muscles, several cranial sutures and staples, and a young boy’s decreased quality of life. Another bizarre case surrounded subdural hemorrhages. Worried parents brought in their four year old daughter who had begun to develop blue blotches on her legs. Sounds like a harmless problem however two of their children prior had the same manifestations and had died because of spontaneous intracranial bleeding. She was their only child left… showing the same symptoms their deceased babies had shown prior. Genetic or bad luck? 

Several worried parents, screaming children, happy babies and many, many prescriptions later, OPD was over.

It was on to the neonatal intensive care unit to check in on the newborn babies. 

Special cases:

An 800 gram baby had been born the night before- 26 weeks and breathing on his own.

A 1.1 kg baby had been born three nights prior, 28 weeks and wasn’t breathing on her own. Her parents didn’t want their baby to be ‘mentally challenged’ (irrationally assumed she would be) and requested to deny further treatment so god would take over. Dr. Rajan joshi of had a long discussion with the parents insisting that there was a very good chance that, if they left the baby on the ventilator for a little while longer she would [probably] survive; they had already made their decision. They took the baby home. She would most likely die within the week.

After a long day with 74 people the workweek was over. It was more exploring for the majority of the night and then a special dinner with Dr. Rajan joshi and his wife. He picked me up and took me to the PYC, the Pune Youth Club. Although it has the name youth club the reasoning is not because the complex is for children. It was a private club with a huge cricket field, a swimming pool on the top and then multiple restaurants. You had to be a member at the club but the food and drinks were wonderful. We talked a lot about my future, dreams, expectations of India, my experiences, and most prominently Rajan and his wife Vidya wanted to talk about my return and the purposes of my future visit.

It was an inspiring conversation.

I feel like I have had many superb conversations recently. I have gained so much perspective from listening to others, but also given so much perspective to others.

I hope I have helped just as many people who have helped me, patients and other people alike. 

December 8, Thursday

Back to the rural village in Yelse, back to the Primary Healthcare Center that serves all of the surrounding villages. One last look at the rural villages of India for the time being.

 It was a slow day (which is a good thing because that means no body is sick but……..boring for a medical student). The most exciting thing was when I arrived. I had bought many medical supplies in the United States, gauzes, N-95 pathogenic mask, surgical masks, hypodermic needles, Anti-Diarrheal medicine (originally bought for myself, but I never needed it, YAY!), hand sanitizer, alcohol wipes, moist cloths, bathing wipes, otoscope and attachments, blood pressure cuff, and a pupil gauge/‘torch’. When I started passing the supplies out, everyone was so happy. The called me a government servant and an American miracle worker. It was such a good feeling!

However, one thing I found quite alarming is that none of the nurses knew the difference between a “good” mask and a “bad” one. AKA which ones that will protect you from pathogens and bacteria (if used properly) and which ones that are only beneficial for grabbing sweat, or opposing coughs and sneezes. So I had a little crash-course on how, why and when to use the masks They all LOVED IT!!!

After a quick meal and health education class at one of the small women’s school, it was back to home to Pune, for my final night.

Of course, it is not possible for my last night to go as planned…. Pshhh… This who adventure has been a spontaneous whirlwind (which I love so much).

A flat tire!!!

Dada came to the rescue and changed the tire in about 15 minutes; just enough time for me to walk around aimlessly to the other side of the road. 

I couldnt help but notice that the first 5 weeks of my stay everything was so green, and now, simply put-- it is not. I still find it picturesque, the newfound diversity of the seasons reflected on the mountainside.

India provided me with one more beautiful sunset. One more pollution-filled, red burning fireball in the sky. 

December 9, Friday

Goodbye Pune.

Hello Delhi.

December 10, Saturday

Goodbye Delhi.

Goodbye India.

Hello United States, Oregon and home.

Xoxo,

India and Shelane

Dear India,

Thanks for being so good to me. You will forever hold a special place in my heart. This is not ‘goodbye’; this is ‘see you later’. Our paths will cross again… soon. I promise

I wish the best health and happiness to everyone who (both in India and in the states) has helped make this journey what it was.

The next few posts, will not be about new tasks, and new people.
This past week when I began to realize the end was near I started a 'final reflections' entry. A picture filled, emotional recolection of my past 10 weeks. It is going to be a good one. I will write to you soon,