Meena Deshpande and members of the gang. / Courtesy-Meena Deshpande

As I stood admiring Sunflowers, Almond blossoms and The Yellow House in the Van Gogh Museum in Amsterdam, I had no idea I would be forced to enjoy the lemonade.

The following day, we were on a cruise on the Baltic Sea with the gang. After treatment for prostate cancer, Pradeep's infection had gotten worse, and the Ship's doctor told us to go to the local hospital and have him checked.

We did, and around 4 pm, doctors at the University of Rostock Hospital said Pradeep's infection was dangerous; his low sodium level could land him in a coma. He would have to stay in the hospital at least through the weekend.

Thankfully, I had some leftover Thepla from Smita in my UofL bag, along with some roasted chana, which made up my meal for Friday and Saturday.

Pradeep settled in his hospital room, and as I left the hospital, the lunar eclipse was about to begin. The street was pitch dark, with no one in sight, and the taxi that the hospital had called to take me to my hotel was nowhere in sight. I never felt so scared and alone in my life.

After standing there for several minutes, the taxi pulled up seemingly from nowhere, and in the cab, there was this shaven-headed, tattooed, skinny, twenty-something man. He was to take me to my hotel, which was apparently 30 minutes out of town.

Midway through our journey, the driver stopped the car on a pitch-dark road. I felt like I was at his mercy. The driver said, "Look up," and there it was: the red Moon and the shadow of Earth moving across, and the red planet Mars shining brightly right under the Moon. Venus, too, was bright, not far from the Moon. It was breathtaking, and Andre and I became friends.

The hotel turned out to be a well-known eco-resort in a small village.

Just had a consultation with the doctor the next day. Pradeep's prognosis was good. A Sonogram was scheduled for the following morning to determine if the infection had cleared.

I better hurry and visit this beautiful medieval town called Rostock. The city of Rostock, Germany, is one of the oldest medieval cities in Northern Europe, and its university was established in 1419, making it one of the oldest in the region.

 It has produced 5 Nobel laureates.

Wow, I suddenly feel very fortunate to share in their space, their water, their air, their 'Astitva'.

Friends, my Lemonade is kicking in.

Now, Pradeep has no choice but to listen to me as I ramble about the hospital. This is a huge hospital with brilliant young doctors.

When a patient rings a bell, the nurse comes within 10 seconds. They move so fast, as if they are sliding, not walking.

The Emergency room bed was without a sheet and pillow cover. This girl with a half-shaven head and half-long hair, who turned out to be a doctor, made the bed. Another doctor put the gown and underpants on Pradeep. Amazing!

 When I told them the toilet was dirty, it was cleaned up within less than a minute. This was so different or unique, having gone through hospital stays in America as many of you may have in your life.

Yesterday, I ventured out with the English/German translator App to the local grocery store. I could talk to the cabbie and the grocery store staff.

It is hot and humid as hell. Records were broken in this heat wave. I am like a boiled potato from a pressure cooker as I wait for carryout dinner from an Indian restaurant nearby.

As I return to the hospital, some people are crying and speaking in hush tones.

So, I tell Pradeep.

Me: somebody kaput

P: what?

Me: ...someone is gone, dead

P: how do you know?

Me: they are crying

P: who are they?

Me: (still calm) people

P: how do you know that someone is dead?

Me: (trying very hard not to yell) People cry when a loved one dies, and we are in the hospital, and they were not dancing!

And I knew 'he is back in the living'.

I left the hospital just to stay sane!

The doctor removed the prostate tube. If the blood report returns normal the next morning, we will be able to leave for Berlin and fly back to America.

It's about 8:30 am. Pradeep called from the hospital; we were cleared to travel. Marriott was sending a car from Berlin to pick us up at the hospital, drive us to my hotel to collect our luggage, and then take us to Berlin.

Boy, oh boy, I am so freaked out.

Me: Imagining... we're walking in the airport towards...

Me and Kate Spade hand in hand.

Pradeep, with one leg of trousers straight, the other neatly rolled up above his left bony knee, and a catheter tube appearing from underneath while he is holding his pee bag fashionably with his forefingers.

It's about 4 am in Marriott, Berlin, the next morning. I am nervous about flying to New York with the patient.

And even though I was clearing stuff around him, Pradeep kept pointing to the same damn napkin that had fallen on the floor I was going to pick up anyway.

We are so spoiled by creature comforts in America.

Pradeep sees his doctor in Louisville on Monday.

By the way, all medical expenses were covered directly by the travel insurance.

Pradeep is very weak and walks like a cowboy.

It is a great relief to be back. Never knew I would miss the English language. In Rostock, sometimes Hindi words used to come out of my mouth as if they would understand.

So, here's bottoms up for my Lemonade. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade.

 

The author is a retired Kathak dance teacher based in Louisville, Kentucky.
 

(The views and opinions expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of New India Abroad)