Doctor, doctor give me the news...

30 Jun 2013

Most of those who read this blog know that I started my professional life running hospitals. Consequently I have a professional curiosity about how different health care delivery systems work. As I have travelled to various places I have observed how doctors run their practices, how pharmacies work, and especially hospitals: Are they clean? Are they well organized? Do they have modern equipment?

Well, this week I have had an up close and personal tour of India’s healthcare system.

Wednesday night, I started to have abdominal discomfort. Not to be too graphic, but I thought I was constipated, which didn’t make any sense to me. If Grandma Whyte had asked, as she is want to do, I would have told her my bowels were fine. Anyway, as I started my day on Thursday, the discomfort was still there despite my morning constitutional. While I was talking with Rae that morning, all of sudden my general discomfort turned into sharp, acute pain over my left kidney. I’m not a doctor, but I did stay at a Holiday Inn Express, so I self-diagnosed kidney stones. Been there, done that. I knew that if it was a small enough stone, all I had to do was drink lots of water and wait for it to pass. If it was too big? Well that would lead to different problems.

When I made it to work, it must have been apparent I was hurting because everyone I met within the first hour asked me what was wrong. It turns out the husband of our Dean is a pharmaceutical rep and the father of our Placement Manger is a doctor. Within another hour I had medicine and three referrals for physicians I could/should go see. Within another 20 minutes I had a nice little buzz but markedly less pain. I tried to work but I really couldn’t focus, so I decided I would work from home the rest of the day. I could drink and, hum, “process” what I drank at will. While I was going home I got a call from Charu, our CEO. She told me I had an appointment with her family physician at 3:00. I had been able to divert everyone else who tried to get me to a doctor but somehow I couldn’t dissuade Charu so I agreed to keep the appointment.

I went to a nearby Apollo Hospital (one of hospitals in a pan-India, multi-hospital system with a great reputation) and began my entry into the Indian healthcare system. The lobby and the waiting room for the physicians looked like train stations during rush hour. In India people rarely go to the doctor or hospital alone. Or with one person. It is more common that it is a family affair so whole crowds of people are there just for moral support. That doesn’t change how quickly one gets into the doctor, but it certainly adds to the congestion. Considering I was being worked into what appeared to be a pretty busy schedule, I waited less than an hour to be seen by Dr. Sikkah (pronounce like, Oh, you’re sick. ah? A good name of a physician but the beauty was probably lost on most patients). Dr. Sikkah did not seem too impressed with my self-diagnosis, and since he probably wouldn’t have gotten the reference I didn’t bother telling him I had stayed in a Holiday Inn Express. He gave me a brief physical exam, asked about my health history, and then said he wanted me to get blood tests, urinalysis, and a CT scan. He would get the results and call me the next day.

If I had to wait an hour to get into Dr. Sikkah, the wait for lab work and the CT scan was miniscule. Again considering that I was a drop in for both, the service was very prompt, efficient, and pain free including the blood draw. I was quite impressed. The only negative, in fact, had to do with the gown they had me change into for the CT scan. I am bigger than the average Indian. The scrub bottoms fit, sort of, but there was no need to worry about tying them because the fit at the waist we just snug. In length they came to about mid-calf. I was pleased to see the top was tight in the shoulders but loose in the waist. I would have been crushed if it had been the other way around.

So all things considered, I was in and out for unscheduled appointments in less than three hours. Now for the fun part: what did all of this cost, you might ask. The total bill - doctor’s visit, comprehensive blood profile, urinalysis, CT scan – less than $300 out the door. That’s total, not my co-pay. For a premier physician and a premier hospital. Pretty tidy I think. Oh, I did have three prescriptions to get filled. Again total cost, not co-pay, less than $5.

Now all was left for me to do was drink like crazy, pee like crazy, take my medicine and wait for the call on Friday. Which didn’t come. Some aspects of healthcare systems seem to be universal. One such aspect is that overworked physicians don’t always call when they say they will. Anyway, I wasn’t particularly concerned because I knew what he was going to say; I knew what the diagnosis and treatment were going to be.

Saturday we had a priesthood leadership training conducted by the District Presidency, followed by lunch. We were in the middle of lunch when I got a call from Dr. Sikkah. He said, “I have your results and things are more complicated than we thought. I have arranged for an urologist to see you this afternoon. How quickly can you be here?” I told him about an hour and a half and he said fine, he would arrange it.

Now my mind is racing. I have to say there are times the distance between India and Portland seems greater than at other times. As I finished the call from Dr. Sikkah, Oregon seemed very far away and although I was in a crowded room I seemed very alone. After lunch we were headed back to the Branch. President Jurial and Brother Arjun rode their motorcycles to the Branch and then we had ridden together to the meeting in my car. On the way back, I asked if they would give me a blessing and then explained the situation. After the blessing I felt more at peace.

If anything, my interaction with Dr. Taneja (the urologist) was more impressive than the first doctor’s appointment. It’s Saturday afternoon; again no appointment; I waited less than 15 minutes. After asking me a few questions (Dr. Taneja was no more impressed with my self-diagnosis skills than Dr. Sikkah had been) and a brief physical examination, he turned to the results of the CT scan. After looking at the scans he told me I have multiple stones and a cyst in my left kidney. The cyst is benign and most of the stones are also not an issue. The trouble maker is the one I’ve been dealing with that is now in the urethra. He then said, I understand you are planning to go back to the US soon. I told him I was leaving Thursday night. He said, not if you don’t pass the stone that’s moved to your urethra. I can’t allow you to fly in that condition. I thought, yeah, like you’re going to stop me. Then, it occurred to me: what would I do if I was in the middle of a 15 hour flight and had an attack?

So at this point, I have a follow up ultrasound scheduled on Tuesday and appointment with Dr. Taneja on Wednesday. In the mean time, I continue to do everything I can to be able to get on that plane Thursday night: taking all my medication, drinking like crazy, and following the biological imperative that follows drinking that much. I am also gladly accepting any and all prayers from others. In that regard, Mehndi told me yesterday as he picked me up at the hospital, “I pray to my God that Mr. Phil gets immediately well.” When he said that, I didn’t feel so alone.

Namaste.  

You know that what you eat you are...

23 Jun 2013.

In today’s entry I am going to talk about nourishment – physical and spiritual - hence the musical intro from the greatest musical group of all time, The Beatles. For those of you who tolerate my words to see the pictures, I am sorry no pictures today. I'll try to repent and make it up to the visually oriented next week.

A friend asked me, when I had been in India for a few days, if I was tired of curry. It’s a common misconception that all Indian food is curry. Not all of it is even spicy, although much of it is. The topic of Indian food covers an amazing range of tastes. Actually, there is not even “typical” Indian food. Each State or geographic area has its own cuisine, although now with so many people having relocated from their ancestral home to cities like New Delhi or Mumbai that one can easily find food from every area. I will say I have found food from Kerala to Punjabi (north to south) that I love.

Most of the time for dinner I eat whatever Christina fixes for me. She is a very good cook and excels at Continental as well as Indian dishes. A few times a week she fixes more than I can eat. Those nights I freeze the portions I don’t eat and they become my weekend meals. I am getting adept at using an Indian cooking instrument, the microwave. I am a whiz. I can even take little hard kernels of corn and in 3 minutes make a delicious salty, buttery treat. I may need to see if I can get a patent.

I typically have take away for lunch, unless I get too busy and my day gets away from me. In those cases I enjoy a traditional Indian treat: a granola bar. I keep a package in my desk for such an eventuality. Anyway, back to lunch. I have found several things have become favorites and that routinely find their way into the lunch rotation.

When I came to India, if you had asked my favorite Indian food, I would have said dal makhni and butter naan, and it still is in my top 10. It was my first Indian comfort food. Dal makhni is creamy stew made from black lentils with various spices. The thing I didn’t know was that it had a ton of butter blended in. No wonder I like it! Once it is served, cream is often drizzled on it. Naan is a type of flat bread made from wheat flour and roasted on the inside of a tandoor oven. It has a texture like good sour dough: chewy and delicious.

I’ve decided I must at my heart be a peasant. Dal makhni  is essentially peasant food, as are most of the other dishes that have found their way into my usual meal rotation. A few of my favorities include rajma chawal, a spicy beans and rice that is a lot like Cajun red beans and rice except the spices are different, aloo gobi, which is a dish made with potatoes and cauliflower, biryani, which is a baked dish with layers of flavored rice, meat (or not) and vegetables, and chole masala, which is chickpeas in a spicy sauce. Most of the dishes are served over rice and or with naan or one of the other types of flat breads like parathas, chapattis, dosas and rotis. It really doesn’t matter. Rice – good; bread – good. As I said, I am basically a peasant.

Well, I am starving now. I think I better make the change to spiritual nourishment.

This has been a good week here in New Delhi. Things here go at an interesting pace from a spiritual standpoint. In the last week I conferred the Aaronic Priesthood on one man, the Melchizedek Priesthood on another, helped confer the Priesthood on two others, confirmed a newly baptized member, extended two calls, visited three member families, counselled two people about employment and another two about pursuing education in the US, and spoke in Church. I guess these activities could have only been transactional rather than spiritual but that is not how I experienced them. I love the degree to which I have been able to interact with and bless the lives of individuals here in India, and in turn I have been blessed by them. It seems I use my Priesthood, and spiritually connect with people, more in a week here than I might in several months at home.

Don’t make any mistake. I miss my family and friends terribly. As exciting, interesting, and rewarding as it is here that hasn’t changed. Still, between my work at MAII, which is both challenging and rewarding, and my service in the Church I feel alive in a way that I haven’t for some time: fully engaged. I don’t suppose one person can make a huge impact in a country of 1.5 billion people, but I think I will make a difference with a few and who knows where that will lead. A scripture in the Doctrine and Covenants has been on my mind a lot lately: “Be not weary in well doing for you are laying the foundation of a great work. And out of small things proceedeth that which is great.” Come on, Rae, join me here and experience what I have been. We’ll have a impact much greater than we have had where the Church is established and fully functioning; where people are so set in their lives they are not looking for change. Besides, as noted above, the food is great!

Namaste. 

I’m going up to the country…going to some place where I've never been before....

16 Jun 2013

  

With apologies to Canned Heat for truncating the lyrics of one of the great road trip songs of all times, that is kind of what I thought when I heard earlier in the week that someone needed to go meet with a group of our students in Jaipur. If you know me, you probably know I love a road trip. I will go out of my way to take a road trip. So, this seemed right up my alley. Further, since it needed to be on a Saturday, and I sometimes am at a loss as to how to keep gainfully occupied on Saturday, I thought, “I’ll go and then someone else won’t have to give up a Saturday; besides, what else am I going to do?” Finally, Jaipur is a city I have always wanted to visit so I thought I would kill several birds with that one stone.

(This is foreshadowing for all of you English majors) Well, let me just say, as the day went on, I thought I should change the musical title of this entry to the theme song to Thunderdome and then later in the evening I thought maybe Welcome to My Nightmare.

When I have discussed traffic in previous posts, I have been accused of glossing over the harsh reality of Indian traffic; of being too polite. I will try to make amends in this post without being so graphic that Rae decides she doesn’t want to come after all!

First some background. Jaipur is the capital of a state, Rajasthan, two states over from Delhi. It is a major city with a long history. You may know it from such movies as The Jungle Book, The Jewel in the Crown, or most recently, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel. (Bonus points for the first person who gets the catch phrase alluded to in the last sentence. HINT “Hi, this is Troy McClure…). Jaipur is known as the Pink City. Now I always thought that must be because the fort located there had pink stucco (very manly and intimidating in certain circles). But no, it turns out the whole city was painted pink in 1876 to celebrate the visit of Edward, Prince of Wales. That seems like a long time ago to us, but it’s recent history in a country that goes back 3000 years. Some of the tourist attractions in Jaipur include the aforementioned fort and a palace that is in the middle of a lake. The general area looks a lot like Western Arizona. Pictures below (two "touristy" shots courtesy of Wikipedia.

I, however, didn’t see any tourist attractions. I came, did my business, and left trying to get as many miles as possible behind us whilst there was still daylight (more foreshadowing.)

So now let me tell you about my drive. How best to describe it? You might think of it as 160 miles of NASCAR racing, but in a straight line. With the NASCAR cars collocated with hundreds, nay thousand of trucks, tractors pulling wagons, cattle, and camel drawn carts (see picture below; I quit counting the camels at thirty. I must have seen 50 or 60 of them). 

You might envision it as three dimensional Tetris, with each vehicle as a self-directed Tetris piece propelled forward as fast as possible challenging each other to fit into the tightest of spaces. You might consider what it would be like to be inside a three dimensional video game like Gran Turismo except knowing the crashes would be real and there are no reset buttons.

Any of those might be apt visuals to hold as I describe our trip. I have mentioned before that lanes have no meaning in India. This can be a bit disconcerting in city traffic as cars, bikes, carts, motorcycles and pedestrians cram 10 wide in what was meant to be 3 lanes. However, as I have also mentioned, usually traffic in the city is slow enough there really is no great danger. The one unfortunate fatal accident I mentioned previously notwithstanding, usually a fender bender is the worst that could happen. Not so on the open road. At 80 miles an hour, those same tendencies still exist, so what you have is cars that at break neck speed (literally) are jockeying for position, cutting each other off, and squeezing into spaces really not intended for a car. Now, you add to that mix the assortment of large, slow moving vehicles and sundry livestock and you have the makings of a good time. Oh I should also say that periodically, say every 10 minutes or so, the traffic will suddenly come to a dead stop, often for no apparent reason. Then all of a sudden the green flag is waived and it’s off to the races! The stops were frequent enough and long enough that despite the daredevil driving in between it took five hours to drive from New Delhi to Jaipur; seven on the way back (more foreshadowing).

The above milieu is challenging if the road conditions are good. Verging on insanity if the road conditions are, let’s say, less than ideal. Before taking on this road trip, I asked, “How’s the road?” and received assurances it is a good road. This is partly true. There are stretches of the road, sometimes as much as a quarter mile at a time, that are three lanes wide, which suddenly go to two and then to one with no warning. for every mile of smooth road their is five of pocked, patched, something akin to war zone road. My favorite was a stretch of a three lane road in which, with no warning, and with only the most cursory of barriers a two hundred yard section of the outside lane just vanished. There was just a rectangular hole. I noticed as we drove by (we had to suddenly jut into the middle lane to avoid falling down that hole so I had a pretty good look at it) that the hole went down quite a ways, 60 or 80 feet I’d guess, to a river bottom. Wouldn’t you like to miss THAT  lane change?

All in all, despite the above, the drive down there wasn’t that bad. Mehndi is a good and experienced driver. He gives as good as he gets and is used to driving in this madness. It occurred to me, however the return trip might be a lot more challenging if we had to do it at night. All of those sudden changes would be a lot more difficult to see. This led to my decision to skip eating (for me; Mehndi ate whilst I was in my meeting), jump in the car, and get as far as we could before the sun set.

This was pretty critical because all of the lane changes I mentioned before are not very well marked. A little paint here, an arrow there, and that really should be enough. Further, although the cattle do tend to go to ground and sleep, there are always the trucks. And the tractors. It’s an interesting thing about trucks in India. Not all have tail lights. It is MUCH better than it used to be but there are still an amazing number with no lights at all. Oh some have added reflective tape (which actually helps a lot) but many have nothing. Further, virtually no tractors have tail lights and certainly the wagons they are pulling don’t. So imagine the above break neck, full speed, competitive jockeying for position, with “patchy” road conditions. At night. With large slow moving obstacles that you can’t see well until you are practically on top of them. I think you can get the picture. Now let me add a couple of more elements: a dust storm, followed by torrential rain. You might see why I was considering Welcome to My Nightmare as the musical title for this post.

Our break neck speed was delayed for two hours because of a truck that rolled, tumbling across the highway. That of course meant everyone tried to drive even faster after their car cleared the wreck.

Oh fun. We had been sitting there about an hour when an ambulance  came driving towards us on the left side of the road. Well maybe not “driving” so much. He made it to about where we were and then stopped. He couldn't go any further. He was at a dead stop for ten minutes, going the wrong way on the dirt shoulder of the road. Given that he was leaving the rollover, saying he was at a dead stop was perhaps indelicate of me. I did think, “Well, I would rather be sitting waiting in my car than in the back of that ambulance."

I will say this is not the most afraid I have been on a road in India, not close actually. That honor also goes to a night drive from Mysore to Bangalore that I took last year. Now that I think about it, however, the biggest difference is that I was sitting in the front seat that time. There was really no way to avert my eyes from the mayhem all around us. Sitting in the backseat, I was occasionally able to close my eyes and go to my happy place. I will say that was probably the only time since I arrived in India that I didn’t wish Rae was with me. I wouldn’t want to put her through that.

Lesson learned: from now on I am going to plan my trips so I drive only during the daytime. Or fly. Or take the train. Honest, Rae, it will be okay. Please come!

One last note. When we were here in February, we saw an elephant. Well, I saw it. Elephants are grey, the night was grey, we were moving kinda fast, and Rae says she never saw it. She has intimated, in fact, that I made it up. Just to prove that elephants are still used  to carry loads, when we saw this on the side of the road, I asked Mehndi to stop so I could get a picture. No picture, but the video is below.

Namaste.  

Take your place on the great mandella as it moves through your brief moment of time....

9 Jun 2013

Last week, as you will recall death and funerals set the tone for my blog entry. Last night the wheel turned and I celebrated a birth.  Faithful readers of this blog will recall Christina Massey, the woman who cooks and cleans for us. Her brother and sister in law had a baby yesterday and in the afternoon, while at District Conference, I got a text from Christina. The hospital where her sister in law gave birth was in the neighborhood of the Church where the conference was being held. She asked if I wanted to come see the baby between the two sessions. As it turns out President Massey (Her cousin? Her uncle? I am not quite sure of the relationship) came up to me at the end of the afternoon session and said, ”Do you want to go see the new baby?” He threw his arm around me and we went along with Christina’s fiancé to see Samara (picture below).

Knowing there are a wide variety of hospitals in India, I wasn’t sure exactly what to expect. What I found was something very familiar. When we opened the door to their room we saw a happy, loving family gathered around a bed with a tired but happy looking women in it, with a new born swaddled in a blanked with knit cap on her head lying in a rocking cradle next to her. The bed appeared to be fairly modern, not too different from what one finds in the States. The cradle looked a bit more vintage. It was made of metal and painted white, with some areas showing bare metal where the paint had worn off. Even with air conditioning on, the room was fairly warm between the people gathered around and the door to the un-air conditioned hallway opening frequently. Samara (the baby’s name) probably would have been comfortable with just a light blanket but no, they had her swaddled in a heavy blanket with that knit cap on her head. It made me sweat just looking at her.

Her face was kind of red but there was not the darker read splotch that appears in the picture. That had to be a shadow or something. She actually is a cute baby. Not as cute as the babies in our family of course, but cute.

This week I also found out a little more about Mehndi, our driver. He and I have become more comfortable with each other (late hours driving all over New Delhi on the Lord’s business I guess). This week I found out he had been a driver for five years for a Member of Parliament. He quit last winter to get married. He showed me a picture of his wife; she is quite attractive but given what his mother in law looks like, that may not last. No offense intended or implied.

After work, Church service, and talking to Rae (I LOVE Vonage!) the thing that occupies my time is trying to learn Hindi. I have Rosetta Stone, which may eventually pay dividends but doesn’t seem to be moving me to my goal very directly. Also, not unlike last week’s Bollywood movie trip, I will sometimes watch TV in Hindi. I also am trying to pick up words and phrases both in conversation and by asking people “How do you say [fill in the blank] in Hindi?” I’ve learned a few things here and there from other people but Christina and Mehndi have been the most consistent and helpful.

Although I enjoy learning Hindi, I wish the Babble Fish from the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy actually existed. I would love to instantly be able to communicate with anyone in his or her native language. I have always liked the quote by Charlemagne, “To have another language is to possess a second soul.” Doctrinally, I don’t think that is quite correct but I do think you can only partially know a country until you can speak their language. This makes India an amazing challenge. Hindi and English are the official national languages. However there are over 30 languages in India with a million or more speakers and well over a hundred languages all together. Some are closer to dialects but there are many that are less similar than German and French, for instance or German and Japanese for that matter.

Hindi is actually an Indo-European language (well Indo-Aryan to be specific but that is a branch of Indo-European so why quibble?). There are a few very old words that have cognates that are recognizable (do for two, for instance or adami for man). However, there are some sounds that are nearly impossible for a (cough, cough) shall we say “mature” English speaker to make correctly. I thought the guttural stop in German and the rolled r in Spanish were hard but some sounds in Hindi defy my ability. I think it will be some while before someone mistakes me for Indian.

Like Japanese, the fact that Hindi is not written in roman characters makes learning more challenging. You can't quickly expand your vocabulary by reading. The Devanagari script is quite beautiful (see below). Unlike Japanese and Chinese it is an actual alphabet, although the way it is written, with all letters connected across the top, it initially seemed totally undecipherable to me. I have now been exposed enough to it that I can recognize the individual characters. I am slowly learning the characters. Slowly being the operative word. Hmm. Maybe it’s a good thing we’ll be here for three years.

हालाँकि सूर के जीवन के बारे में कई जनश्रुतियाँ प्रचलित हैं, पर इन में कितनी सच्चाई है यह कहना कठिन है। कहा जाता है उनका जन्म सन् १४७८ में दिल्ली के पास एक ग़रीब ब्राह्मीण परिवार में हुआ। जनश्रुति के अनुसार सूरदास जन्म से ही अंधे थे। आजकल थीअंधे आदमी अक्सर 'सूरदास' कहलाते हैं। कई लोगों ने उन्हें गुरु के रूप में अपनाया और उनकी पूजा करना शुरु कर दिया ।

Namaste.  

Like Alice in Wonderland the dream takes you by the hand....

2 Jun 2013

I thought last week was an anomaly: my well planned blog was hijacked by the events of the week, but that was a onetime thing; it certainly won’t happen again. Wrong. This week has been a whirlwind culminating yesterday. I will try to do it justice. I’ll start with work.

I have to say my work is everything I hoped it would be. There are a lot of challenges, and we are far from where we ultimately want to be. However, I do think we are building some foundational pieces that will carry us to the future we envision. We had our first Management Council Meeting, our Board meeting. I have heard from several sources there can be some pretty good emotional fireworks at these meetings from time to time. This one could not have gone smoother. When I entered the room several of the Board members, who I had previously met, stood, welcomed me and asked me to sit with them. So rather than sitting off to the side with the other staff members, I sat in the middle of the Board. During the meeting they turned several times to me and asked my opinion. They always seemed curious to know my perspective, paid attention to what I said, and gave my comments serious consideration.

So, Tuesday was in some ways the height of my professional life here. Friday was probably the most fun. Friday afternoon we had a team building activity planned by human resources. After work we went as a group to see a movie, Yeh Jawani Hai Deewani, which is the latest hit from Bollywood. The movie was a lot of fun, except for the fact it was nearly three hours of Hindi. Without subtitles. The good news is that I did enjoy the music and dance numbers (Hey, it’s a Bollywood movie. There are ALWAYS music and dance numbers). I have even found myself humming/half singing one of the main songs. It really is only half singing since, A) I don’t know Hindi and 2) I can’t really sing. So maybe it is somewhat less than half singing. Oh, by the way Rae, you can rest easy. They have popcorn at Indian movies.

Shifting now to the other major part of my life: Church service. Thursday we went out to visit some members. We drove to a community about half an hour away. When we got there it turned out they had Thursday Market, which means dozens and dozens of merchants had set up temporary stalls or mobile carts along the sides of both the main road into the community and on side streets and literally thousands of people were swarming around. Trying to drive into the housing complex was a bit of a challenge. We left our car and went in on foot. I kind of felt like I was back in Japan with the little kids running alongside of us, staring at me and jabbering.

Once we got into the complex we met with three young men, friends who had all joined the Church at the same time. Well, we actually met one of them first and when he found all three of us from the Branch Presidency had come he called his friends to join us. He then decided there wasn’t enough room so we moved to his family business: a beauty parlor. Ladies, this is not the beauty parlor you might be envisioning but at least there were enough seats for everyone.

We had a good visit with the three of them and then moved onto meet a family that also lives in the same housing complex. This is a family that had caught Rae’s and my eye when we visited in February. They are a young good looking couple with two beautiful, young children. Their love for each other was obvious. The father told us how they came to join the Church. He said that he used to not care that much for his family; he was angry all the time and had little patience for his wife and their then one child. He would work long hours, come home, and resented any time or energy they required of him.

One day he was walking down the street and he saw some missionaries talking to someone. At first he thought to hassle them; to yell at them or somehow drive them away. He walked over to them, stood there listening to them, waiting for the right moment to rip into them. As it turned out, he got involved in a conversation with one of the Elders. Ultimately the missionary invited him to come to Church. He didn’t go the next Sunday and the missionary called him to say he had been missed. He promised he would come the next week, although he was really nervous about it. He was uncertain how he would be received by these people he didn’t know at all. Well the next Sunday he went and he said it was not like anything he anticipated. He felt welcomed, warm, loved and “right” from the beginning. He said the spirit there was not like anything he had ever experienced. Long story short, he and his wife took the lessons from the missionaries, they joined the Church, and his life has not been the same since. He will be made an Elder this next week and his family’s goal is to be sealed in the Temple as soon as possible. It’s hard to believe this man who exudes love for his family is the same man who a couple of years ago resented any time he had to spend with them.

So now we get to yesterday, which is really the only part of the week that actually justifies the dream reference in the blog title. Dream as in, “Is this really happening or I am I dreaming?” I had the day planned. I was going to go into the office for a couple of hours. After that, I was going to stop by an educational expo, where we had a booth; stop by the store to pick up a few necessities and then back to the house to relax for the rest of the day. Easy peasy, right? Yeah, right.

As I was driving to the office, I got a call from our Branch President Juriel. Do you remember the family I talked about last week; the teenage girl who wants to join the Church? Her father died unexpectedly Friday night. President Juriel had just found out about it. He asked if I could go with him to visit the family. I said I could early in the afternoon; after I went to the education expo. So, when I left the expo, I gave him a call. He said the man, a Hindu, had already been cremated earlier that day and we should go visit the family later in the week. However, he said, “you aren’t going to believe this but we’ve had another brother in the Branch just die. I just got a call from the Elders. Can you go over there with me right away?” I said I could, and we agreed to meet at the Church in twenty minutes.

I made it to the Church before him and after I was there a couple of minutes I got a call from him. He asked me to go the computer and start writing the letter. I told him I had no idea what letter he was talking about. It turns out in India, if you are Christian; you have to a letter from your Church attesting that you are a Christian, so you can be buried in one of the Christian cemeteries. Otherwise, your body will be cremated. So I started to write the letter and had it mostly done when President Juriel got there. We finished it; printed it on Church letterhead, and jumped in the car to rush to the mortuary. We had to have the body released, delivered to the cemetery, and buried by 6:30. It was now 3:30.

We drove over to the “mortuary”. His brother and the men in the family were standing or milling around a narrow alleyway between the mortuary and the street. The women in the family were sitting on the floor in an expanding semi-circle around the young man’s body (he was 26), which was lying on a pallet covered with a sheet. After several minutes’ discussion with the owner of the mortuary, he reluctantly agreed the paperwork was in order and the body could be released for burial instead of being cremated. Time was running out, it was now 4:30; we still had to get the body clear across New Delhi, finalize the arrangements for the burial, and get him buried before 6:30.  So we left the First Counselor and two of the missionaries with the family to arrange things at the mortuary. I jumped into our car (remember it a Honda City, the equivalent of a Civic) with: our driver, the Branch President, two missionaries, and the Branch Mission Leader. Six people in a car that holds four comfortably, five if three or more of them are smallish.

An hour later we are at the cemetery. Again we have several minutes of paperwork review and confirmation. Apparently you really don’t want to bury a non-Christian in a Christian graveyard. And then we started to wait. The grave had not been dug yet and of course the family had not arrived with the body. The grave diggers were straight out of the New Delhi Players presentation of Hamlet. Using hand tools, they opened the grave previously sealed with concrete. The grave plots are used repeatedly by the same family. After at least five years the grave can be reopened and another body buried there. I watched as they laughed and joked (well two of them did) the third one actually did all of the work, digging down far enough that this burial could be done but not so far as to uncover the prior occupant. Finally, they picked up their picks and mattocks and left.

It was now after 6:00 and no sign of the family and the body. We talked to the manager of the cemetery who agreed that he would hold the cemetery open if they arrived by 6:30. If not, the body would be taken back and cremated. Just before 6:30 they arrived: fifty or sixty people following an ambulance carrying the body. There apparently are no hearses in India, so when a body needs to be transported they use an ambulance. The body, now in a plywood casket, was carried to a table in the middle of an open patio area. Once all the family gathered, the Branch President called on the First Counselor to offer a prayer and then he said a few words to the family. The body was then carried to the plot. Once we got there, I saw that two posts had been laid across the open grave with two large ropes lying next to them. The casket was placed on top of the two posts. I had been asked by the Branch President to dedicate the grave, so after the family gathered around I said that I wanted to say a few words and asked him to translate for me. I spoke for a few minutes about the plan of salvation and the atonement of Christ, pausing every sentence of so for President Juriel to translate. After that, I dedicated the grave.

As I finished four men grabbed the ropes, lifted the casket, and slid the poles away. Then the casket was lowered carefully, slowly down by the ropes. At this point President Juriel leaned over to me and said, “When the casket is totally lowered, you will be expected to throw the first handful of dirt onto the casket.” Once I had done that, one by one people came forward and also threw a handful of dirt onto the casket. When everyone had done so, the grave diggers reappeared and finished filling the grave and mounding the dirt on top of it. Then the flowers started being laid: strand after strand, and pile after pile of orange/gold carnations, until the whole mound was covered. As we walked off, one of the family members, about my age, stopped me and with tears in his eyes thanked me for my message to the family and for dedicating the grave. That made the whole surreal day worthwhile.

While waiting, I learned a lot about death and funerals in India. Hindus nearly always cremate their dead within 24 hours of death. That is why the father I mentioned first was cremated so soon after his death. Typically women are not invited to a Hindu funeral, it is a rite reserved for men. After the cremation, the ashes are ideally scattered into one of a number of spiritually significant rivers, the Ganges being the most famous and the most significant. Muslims and Christians both typically bury their dead, although space in these cemeteries is limited. If accommodation cannot be made quickly, these bodies are cremated too. Also, an increasing number of Christians (less so with Muslims, apparently) are choosing cremation as well. In every case, burial or cremation has to occur quickly because bodies are not embalmed.

Here is a picture of the cemetery where the burial occurred yesterday. Note that even though the bodies are buried, each grave is covered with some form of concrete covering.

As we drove back from the funeral (with the same crowd stuffed into the back seat) our driver Mehndi (who is getting quite familiar with members of the Branch Presidency and the missionaries) said to President Juriel in Hindi, “Why do you keep taking him to these places? You should be taking him to places like Agra (where the Taj Mahal is located) or some temples or shrines.” I had to laugh when I heard that later. It definitely has not been the typical tourist sites the last couple of weeks.

So that I don’t end on what many will think is a macabre topic, Let me review today. I conducted Sacrament meeting; I taught the gospel doctrine Sunday school class without preparation or advanced notice because the teacher did not show up; and this afternoon we had a baptism, which I was asked to conduct and at which I was asked to speak and give a welcome from the Branch. A fairly productive day. So, in one week I have ordained someone to the Priesthood, dedicated a grave and presided at a baptism. I guess my desire to be used by the Lord here in India is coming to pass.

Namaste.