Before I begin, I must confess, I never actually wished my father on Father’s day before…partly because we had differences and I chose to be the silent daughter since the past decade or so; partly because I have two sisters who celebrated the day, so I felt my lack of contribution will go unnoticed anyways, and partly because my father believed these celebrations serve a more “commercial” purpose than emotional…
But today I am writing…maybe because he will not be able to see this anymore.
My father passed away two weeks ago, on 6th June, exactly two months from his 81st birthday. Although he suffered a bit last winter, he was otherwise mostly in good health and spirit. The onset of Covid lockdowns ushered a sense of uncertainty which was bothering him at a level, I did not understand. But it did.
Even today, I felt, my father’s physical upkeep was way better than mine, despite him being an octogenarian, and I, in my late thirties. He prided himself for leading a “regimental lifestyle” and was convinced, beyond doubt, that his immunity could handle any virus…even the Novel Coronavirus…He has been going for morning walks since last 30 years as a routine, very rarely missing his 5 + mile walks in the mornings, and sometimes in the evenings as well. No matter where he was, my father would never miss out on his walks; more than the physical benefit, the walk served a major psychological profit as it gave him a chance to socialize with a large group of people from all walks of life, old and young, that provided a daily dose of mental and social stimulation…this kept his heart beating without a worry…
But then Covid happened to the world…followed by lockdowns across nations, states, cities and neighborhoods…In India, for those who don’t know, the lockdown was enforced with military precision…every version of the subsequent lockdowns made it virtually impossible for old people to come out of the house. My father never considered himself old, so that is another matter…but the great Rabindra Sarabar lake (Kolkata), his favorite walking track, remains closed to public to this day…he could not go for his walks, he could not meet his friends…a forced social isolation that slowly started breaking his spirit…
On 6th June, my father had a wonderful dinner with my sister and nephew. A few minutes post dinner he complained of a stomach upset, feeling almost guilty that he may have eaten too fast or eaten too much, asking for antacids. My sister gave him a couple of medicines, but he was not feeling better. Little did my family know that the apparent stomach upset was the onset of a heart attack…it seems for people who are diabetic, a heart attack often goes misdiagnosed, since they don’t feel any chest pain or the usual symptoms of a heart attack is not visible. While my sister tried to comfort him, my nephew had the presence of mind to notice his grandfather’s unusual sweating and rushed to the nursing home which happens to be next door. Shockingly, the nursing home that admitted my father just 6 months ago, without wasting anytime, refused to admit him on 6th June…the reason given was Covid restrictions enforced in private hospitals & nursing homes, forced them to refuse, point blank, patients requiring critical medical treatment; my sister did not give up, and kept calling other hospitals asking them to send an ambulance…they too replied in negative; one hospital asked the patient’s age and said, he is 80, what’s the point of admitting him? As if his age automatically denounced his right to live…my family called 102, the helpline number for ambulance…they too declined to come, saying the patient needs to show a negative Covid test certificate; they called the police, they also refused…in desperation, my sister called doctors who had treated my father in the past, at their residence, pleading them for help…they refused too.
As my sister and nephew frantically tried to get help, my father kept on asking my sister to switch off his bedroom light…it was my father’s belief that if you can’t solve a problem today, sleep over it, and you will find a solution in the morning…so he wanted to go to sleep. Till the very end, my father believed that he had a bad case of heart burn which will pass next morning…
It seems in Kolkata (India), if you are a Covid patient or a pregnant woman, only then you are allowed access to healthcare…otherwise God help you! Within less than 20 minutes, my father breathed his last, in the arms of my helpless sister, denied access to emergency healthcare…
Yes, my father was correct, his immunity did not let him down till the end…the Novel Coronavirus did not kill him.
But the lockdown did…the isolation killed his spirit and the healthcare system killed his body…
It’s one thing to read about such unfortunate incidences online, on social media, blog posts, news articles…but it is absolutely different when it happens to your own…
Happy Father’s Day Baba…at least now you are free to walk without a mask on your face, anywhere you want, anytime you want…
Love…from your daughter who could not bid you goodbye…
Kintsugi Arise 