I admired my grandfather a lot. His strong faith combined with the purity and the simplicity of life in a tiny remote village, attracted me. Last year, I went to visit him at his village near Tiruchendur, Tamil Nadu. where he was bedridden. Grandfather(99) had lost his memory and could not remember anything. Added to that, he had an itchy skin eruption which kept troubling him very much, not allowing him to sleep. He had been suffering from it for a long time but he had difficulty communicating it. He just kept scratching it, till sometimes it bled. Since there were no doctors in the village, one of my cousins, being a doctor prescribed an ointment to apply on his body. I offered to apply it, and ignorantly used my bare hands to apply it on his body.
After staying with him for some days, I had to fly back to NL to work on a new project. After a couple of weeks of my landing in NL, I happend to get an unknown itchy skin problem and it disturbed me a lot. I initially thought that it had to do with the weather change and did not take it seriously. Days passed by and within some weeks, unexpectedly, I found myself in the hospital recovering from my bicycle accident. When the pain relating to my accident began to diminish, I started feeling the itchy skin problem in my body rise. I told the doctors about my problem but since it had nothing to do with the accident, it was not taken seriously and thus was ignored.
I had obtained enough strength to leave the hospital and go to the next recovery step, The Rehabilitation Centre. Since the itchy problem became unbearable at that time, I elaborately spoke about it to the doctors, whom I was introduced to. The dermatologist was called and it was found that I had contacted a contagious skin infection called scabies, from my grandpa. It is not at all dangerous but an irritating infection . It is contagious, if skin contact is made for more than 15 continuous minutes. Immediately, I was under isolation for a couple of days to make sure the skin problem does not spread to other people and was also treated at the same time. After that, I was free to move about in my wheelchair. The isolation was hurting but as it was just for a couple of days I found it reasonably bearable. The health department was informed and the hospital where I was treated was informed as well. Eventhough no one was infected, preventive tablets were given to the doctors and nurses who handled me in the hospital to make sure that the skin infection does not spread.
Later that week in The Rehabilitation Centre, I developed another complicated infection, this time it was related to my accident and thus had to be transferred again to the hospital for observation. Even though I had been given the green signal to move freely in my wheelchair, back in the hospital I was put under isolation again, for 'precautionary reasons'. It was one of the very few times during the recovery traject, when I felt depressed.
I felt like throwing my arms up and saying - 'I quit'. Here I was recovering from a physical accident, and the physcological hurt was like insult being added to the injury. I had full respect for the medical people who helped me and strongly had the intention that the skin infection should never pass to anyone else, however the feeling of being un-necessarily isolated was mentally depressing. "I dont have the skin infection any more as per The Revalidation Centre", I complained but in vain. No one shook hands with me. People feared to come near and talk to me. Seeing the other patients in the same room being treated in a different way than I was treated, hurt me badly. The nurses attending on me had gloves and all the protective jackets on which made me feel down. The nurses held the conversations short. I was not allowed to get out from bed, not go to toilet, not allowed to bathe and everything had to be in bed. I cried 'It's not fair'.
At that time, one of the doctors offered me help from the psychologist. I thanked him for the offer but polietly refused it. I however placed my problems in God's care through prayer and found strength. This went on for the next 5 days, after which I was free to move in my wheelchair again. What a relief it was? Unexplainable. I smiled, 'I am Free'. My 'I quit' slogen then turned to 'I resume fighting'.
Who would believe me if I said that I have recovered through a serious accident without a tear or psycological hurt? While this incident was unfolding, there was a tendency to step back or think again before offering a help in the future. After that it was reassuringly evident 'Learn the lesson, leave the hurt behind and dare to take risks again to help others eventhough some may turn back to haunt you.' Grandpa, a strong believer in eternal life, in the meanwhile passed away and went on to be with Jesus. I am so glad I did help him then.
Having said this, I also admit that I got a lot of help from unexpected quarters during the time of recovery. Friends that I knew from the Bethel only for a short while came to see me almost every week. Wijnand and Rosine, Christel, Hans, Cathelijne, Willine and Willem-Jan, Gerhard and the other families, some of whom din't know anything about me! As the time ticks on, a smile appears on my face, as the thought of getting back home kicks in. However one thing is sure, when I leave, I sure will leave with a heavy heart.
