The open wounds on Sima's legs, which previously were putrefied, green and full of maggots, are now, while still open, showing nothing but new pink tissue. Cleaning Sima's wounds is still very painful for her, and we require a third person to sit near her head to hold her hand, sing to her and give her water. Sometimes we have to put an adult diaper on her before wound care, as I learned the hard way that her digestion and excretion systems work quite well. Two days in a row during the treatments she poo-ed right on the bed, and we had to stop so I could clean her up. A few days ago after Susan finished up with our 1.5 hours of wound care on her, I gave Sima a lollipop. The following day I did the same thing. Now, during wound care each day, she'll grab my arm, smile a huge, charming smile and say, "Lollipop? Lollipop?"
Thursdays are the volunteers' day off, so Friday morning I arrived at Kalighat and asked Sister Pei Ling if anything interesting had happened the day before. "Oh yes," she replied, "with your Sima." Apparently Sima has family. Her son had come into Kalighat looking for a woman that fit Sima's description. He had been looking for her all over Calcutta; she had been missing, I guess, for almost two months. It turns out that Sima is an economist for the Indian Government, and has a PhD. I am not sure if she has had ongoing mental health issues, but apparently one day she lost it, left work and didn't return. Her family had neither seen nor heard from her. No one knows what happened next, but in observing her leg wounds and bed sores, it's clear she hadn't moved much for a period of time: likely she found a spot to sit at Howrah train station and didn't leave it for several weeks. That's where she developed such serious bedsores on her rear, and that's how some cuts or bites could have turned into infected, gaping wounds. Howrah is where volunteers found her in this shocking condition and brought her to Kalighat.
I sat beside Sima, and she looked at me. Not expecting a response I said to her, "Do you know economics?" I said this more out loud to myself in her direction, as I was still amazed by the story of her son. Sima replied, "I am doctor." Startled, I paused for a second and then asked, "Do you work for government?" Sima's reply bowled me over: "Of the people, by the people, for the people." My jaw dropped. She was educated. She could understand a little English. She knew the Gettysburg Address. I looked around to see if anyone else had heard her. Sima then grabbed my arm, smiled a huge, charming smile and said, "Lollipop? Lollipop?"
Sima's son is currently arranging to take her to a private hospital, one that won't immediately amputate her legs (Sister Pei Ling says she's seen worse, and Susan agrees amputation is no longer necessary due to all the new growth). It is obvious Sima has mental problems and needs treatment for that, too. I'm just so grateful to find out she's not destitute, she hasn't been forgotten. She is the very rare exception rather than the rule at Kalighat. So until her son comes through, I enjoy hearing Sima tell me each morning, "I am doctor."
