Shilpa Bhasin Mehra, Dubai-based lawyer and author of All Battles Aren't Legal
I went into a coma and had been also struck by paralysis waist down. Out of the blue, my life had been turned into a nightmare.
(After living for) 12 years in Dubai, I had a picture-perfect life. I had everything I could dream of.
Vijay (Mehra), my husband, was my dream man, well placed in his career as a business development manager or the NMC group of companies.
Our two cute kids, Shiv and Jai (now 9 and 5), completed our happy family. My job as a lawyer and legal adviser for Lamnalco Shipping Company was going great guns.
What more could I ask for? But then a nightmare happened ...
Notes from my diary: February 27, 2003
Although migraines run in my family, I got the worst headache of my life. Fever worsened it and my body weakened by the day. I was totally laid (up) in bed.
My husband was convinced it wasn't a normal migraine ... I couldn't tolerate sound or light. I was taken to NMC hospital, where after a couple of tests it was diagnosed as meningitis.
The general consensus was I should be shifted to Rashid Hospital, which had the most experienced doctors.
March 5, 2003
I got convulsions the same night and slipped into a coma. I shudder to think what would have happened if we had delayed (seeking treatment) any longer.
March 6, 2003
From this day on, it was total amnesia and blackout for me. I don't remember anything. Doctors say this is the body's defence mechanism, which blocks out painful (moments) from your memories.
I was considered a touch-and-go case. It must have been terrible for my loved ones. I was almost written off. The MRI scan reports (said I was in) critical (condition. The viral meningitis had severely damaged) my brain. The future (looked grim:) I would either go mad or lose my memory.
April 2, 2003
I remember opening my eyes after the coma phase (which lasted for about a month). The ventilator and the life supporting systems I was (connected) to looked to me huge, imposing.
There were tubes in my nose and arms and a cathode down my throat.
My brain was ticking but my body wasn't responding.
Bleak images of my father (Lalit Bhasin), sisters (Sonia, Divya and Priya) and husband standing all around me were the first (I could distinguish). They were anxious, all trying to judge whether I had lost my memory.
I gave them a lop-sided smile, because of the tubes in my mouth. There was a sense of relief (among) them when they (realised) I had recognised them. I couldn't speak because of the tracheotomy. I was terribly weak and couldn't move my hands, legs or eyes.
I wondered what was happening.
I have always been a bright, academic student (having won a gold medal from the Delhi University law faculty in 1992). My mind was working and I thought: "How long have I been sleeping? My family wasn't around me when I went to sleep and now they are."
Everyone put on a strong, calm and composed front for me. I tried to move my fingers but could not lift my hand. Worst of all, I (had) no sensation in my feet or toes. That's when I realised something was wrong. Later, I knew my body was waist-down paralysed.
Where the medical profession lost hope, my dad took charge.
Coming out of the coma was a very positive thing, but nobody knew what the future course of action was. But my dad played saviour to me.
He was anxious to take me back to Delhi so I could get (additional) medical care.
On April 15, 2003, I was flown to Delhi. For more than two years I was totally involved in recuperating.
With physiotherapy and massages (as treatment) I waited for the nerves to heal and push me back into action.
I never let despair creep into my psyche.
Most people would have questioned God, asking, "Why me? Why must I go through all of this?"
But with me this never happened.
For me, the questions that mattered were, "When will I be fine?" and "What next?" I attribute this to my inbuilt tolerance.
I have always been a calm and mentally strong person. I have an innate tendency to move on in life. (For instance,) I was 30 years old when my husband was operated (on) for angioplasty.
I never looked sad or tense when people asked me questions. One needs to take a tough stance and be in control of your life and personal trauma.
I knew I had to get well soon for (the sake of) my family. After all, God had given me so many blessings that I could not afford to rest.
Hats off to my in-laws, my dad and my sisters who took good care of my kids. Their support made a big difference by helping me concentrate on my mental recovery.
The few tears I shed during my trauma ...
... have been in isolation or with my husband. I realised I had to get on with life. Crying or brooding over the calamity was not part of my nature.
I saw tremendous efforts being put in by the people around me. I didn't want to be selfish and wash off all their efforts with my tears. Instead, I chose to be exuberant, positive.
My true inspiration was my family and the loved ones who stood by me.
For me, love was smiling through my tears and not letting them down ... I had to fight back and fulfil other people's dreams, (those who had) focused their lives on my speedy recovery.
Walking 10 steps was like doing a marathon. I started walking in June 2004. Initially this was done with the walker and my physiotherapist behind me.
The first few steps made me feel like I was 100 kg. Streams of sweat (drenched) my body. Walking again was a great feeling; it reinforced my belief that I was getting well. Today I can walk independently without a stick in my living room, but not more than 10 steps at a time.
My book, All Battles Aren't Legal, just happened.
An ex-colleague of mine complimented me, saying: "Your brain is as sharp as a sword - as before." (She said this after) I had completed a legal document for her, despite not having touched any law books for over a year.
"This kick-started the process of penning my thoughts and emotions on paper. I started writing aimlessly - like a monkey jumping from one tree to another - penning down the most inspiring moments in the tsunami of my life.
Publishing this document as a book happened by sheer accident.
I had asked my dad's secretary to print this document and send it across to me.
The manuscript found its way to my dad, who read it on one of his delayed flights. He was impressed and goaded me to get it published.
(From then on, it has been) my dad's baby. (From) booking a publisher to getting noted Indian nationalist figures, such as Sonia Gandhi, Mukesh Ambani, Dr Karan Singh and others to read and review the book, to a grand launch - (it was all his doing).
