Back from the Ledge
I’ve been silent for a while — almost since the beginning of the year. It’s nearly mid-year now, and I’m finally getting back to writing.
The year started with a lovely breakfast at a cosy little restaurant we’d been planning for a while. That afternoon, #OhBoy came down with a temperature. And pretty soon, all of us were down with the viral.
Mom had the worst of it. She had to be hospitalised in the ICU — not just once, but thrice.
In the first quarter, we spent more days in the hospital than at home. Life was turned upside down. At some point, we weren’t even sure she’d make it.
But thanks to God, to medical intervention, and to the support of family, friends, and even strangers — we made it. Mom is back home and all set to celebrate her 75th birthday this week.
For a while, it felt like this was a new phase of life. One where she would be less mobile, have reduced independence, and need a BiPAP machine and external oxygen support. But she has recovered well — and for the most part, she’s back to being her old self.
We are grateful and glad to have pulled her back from the ledge she was on.
Our lives — which had been revolving around hospital runs, caregiving, medications, and physiotherapy — are slowly getting back to normal.
That’s the short TL;DR. The longer version is below.
On the last day of 2025, #OhBoy went on a playdate. The next day, he had sniffles and a temperature. Before we knew it, all of us had caught it — a bad bout of pneumonia, every one of us.
He recovered in three days. The Missus in two. I dragged on for about a week. And Mom had it the worst.
We had started her on a course of antibiotics and it seemed to be working, so we didn’t push further. But Mom’s lungs were under stress, her electrolytes went haywire, and she had to be admitted to the ICU.
The first admission brought her pneumonia under control and got her sodium levels back to normal with IV saline. But what the doctors missed was that she was slowly retaining a lot of fluid.
When she was discharged and we got her home, she couldn’t even lean back. She felt fluid in her lungs. Her lower half was swollen with oedema — so severely that fluid was oozing from her skin. A condition we later learnt is called weeping oedema.
Three days after discharge, we were back at the hospital.
This second hospitalisation revealed that her lungs were severely scarred from the pneumonia, with some pleural effusion as well. And we learnt about yet another new thing — CO2 retention. The effect of elevated CO2 on the brain was severe: constant drowsiness, hallucinations, confusion.
The nights were the hardest. With her brain clouded by CO2, she had lost track of where she was. She would beg the nurses to let her off the bed so she could go home. She would ask why we were doing this to her.
It was a really tough time.
The doctors were good, but conservative. The Indian doctors we consulted remotely — one of whom saw her over a video call — immediately said she needed respiratory support. We waited a couple of days, and then The Missus took a firm stand: put her on BiPAP, or discharge her.
That forced their hand. She was put on BiPAP — and like magic, two days later things started turning around. Her breathing improved. Her CO2 levels began to drop.
The BiPAP machine was her saviour. It took about three weeks, but she came back.
Mom’s GP, Dr. Konappa, happened to have a friend visiting — Dr. Srikar — who was kind enough to advise us on the BiPAP settings and monitor her stats remotely every day. He was in transit on vacation and still took calls between flights. We are eternally grateful for your kindness, Dr. Srikar.
So many others stepped up. My cousin Dr. Prince and Dr. Kirubah, who looked after us as much as they looked after Mom. My aunt, who rallied a prayer group among her friends and relatives with such conviction. Our maids, who kept the house running through our absence — and went far beyond their usual role when Mom came home.
We brought Mom home after three weeks. She had lost most of her muscle and was very weak. But her breathing and CO2 levels were improving.
Things were going well, but we were paranoid after the two earlier scares. We ran frequent blood tests and tracked every vital we could. That vigilance paid off — we caught her next infection, a UTI, early. Not wanting to take any chances, we went back in for a third admission. This stay was shorter, and we were home within a couple of weeks.
She has been in recovery since — and to everyone’s surprise, she has bounced back remarkably well. Back to her routines, managing all of them on her own.
Looking back, it already feels like a distant dream. As they say, all’s well that ends well.
There are so many people to thank. The folks at the embassy who checked in on us constantly. Our friends here, Kim and Deepa. The doctors who were with us on the ground and those who helped remotely — Dr. Konappa, Dr. Srikar, Dr. Prince, and Dr. Kirubah.
And last — but absolutely not least — the two most important people without whom none of this recovery would have been possible.
#OhBoy was patient and remarkably understanding. He adjusted to the new reality quickly, buried himself in books, and kept himself steady — saving us from having to worry about him too. He didn’t complain about missing his favourite squash classes. He just made the hospital a part of his daily routine.
The Missus was the rock on which we all stood. She juggled work, cooking, coordinating with doctors remotely, and taking care of all of us at once. She put everything on hold and went all in on getting Mom safely home. The doctors were always prepared for the barrage of questions coming their way. She held us all together.
It’s now been two months since we got home. Things are slowly, steadily getting back to normal. So much so that I managed to catch Project Hail Mary on screen on one of the Sundays.
That felt good.
