journal d'une transition

727

I drifted; I read some good novel, a huge one of a thousand pages, by Clavell, set in the Iran of Khomeini… All the while, C and R, Ar. and N were sweet, gentle, ever present. I managed somehow to keep the work going, just by seeing two or three of the workmen daily here. Then on May 6 th , the day of C’s birthday, something stupid, nasty and absurd happened: around 10 am, C went with R to B’s house to fetch some iced water, slipped on a cement step which was wet and fell violently on her lower back; this was terrible, given the vulnerable condition of her spine and osteoporosis. R came at once to call me; after a couple of hours we managed to slowly, very carefully walk C back here. Why? Why on her birthday? Why was there no protection? She got more and more pain. We didn’t know what to do. We thought that either Gupi or Birenda, examining her, ought to tell whether any bone was damaged. Her and R”s departure date was approaching. We had to know whether it had to be postponed. But Gupi, instead of a simple examination, insisted on giving her, twice, a heavy and full massage; I was still very weak and not at all in control, and he overwhelmed my caution easily, saying that he was “in command”… The pain increased tenfold. C could only bear it when lying on her side, all curled up. We gave her pain-killers. She wouldn’t eat any more, and got rather desperate; she made R swear that he would help her leave the body rather than remain crippled and endure so much pain… We postponed their flights for a week. We called Datta then and had her admitted in the Ashram Nursing Home. We took her down there, in Datta’s van, lying on a mattress; X Rays were taken, but the lady Doctor couldn’t read them with enough certainty, as the marks of the old fractures and crushed vertebrae (from her road accident when I was 10 years old) were confusing. But she diagnosed two collapsed vertebrae, something serious enough to cause her hell of discomfort afterwards… R became frantic to get her somehow back to France and admitted in a specialised clinic. C had a couple of terrible nights there, despite the gentleness of the nurses and staff. We got no help from the French Consulate in trying to arrange the flights back to France with a stretcher for C. There was only money, money, and R had to pay huge amounts. I would have rather waited until C was able to sit up again, quietly, but R was too worried and C herself was eager to be taken care of in more equipped settings… C. had not eaten for days. Her nerves had become very tight. I obtained from the lady Doctor that a morphine-based injection be given to her, so she would relax a little and eat. Air France exacted huge sums from R. Finally the date was set. *17-5-1987, Bombay: C had to be given serum to feed her. Once we got moving, though, the nausea abated and she began to sleep more and deeper. G.M and F, along with 2 Ashram guys, rode with us all the way to the airport in Madras. In Bombay, A.GC had arranged for a private ambulance and we went to his flat in the upper city; C slept much of the time.