Blind to Bounds

Losing my Papa, the People’s Doctor, to Covid-19

Dr Fasihuddin during one of his clinics. SOURCE Fatima Fasih

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As the daughter of a martyred frontline worker, I wonder if I will ever be the same again….

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Originally published here in Express Tribune, Pakistan here: https://tribune.com.pk/article/97093/losing-my-papa-the-peoples-doctor-to-covid-19?fbclid=IwAR2b64vivKvfXvtHWmbOnxFMSXDv7sAnR9jWf6s_Rb7cyro9AaOG6P1NxJk

Fatima FasihJuly 15, 2020

Running in his pair of joggers, faded jeans and white coat across the hallway with a stethoscope in his pocket and a medical ID card in the other is how I saw my papa while I was growing up in Saudi Arabia. A chest specialist (pulmonologist) by training, my father was not an ordinary doctor. He was the people’s doctor. He got along with everyone at the hospital and quickly learned a new language (Arabi), their culture and mindsets within months of his new posting in a foreign country at the same age as I am now.

Doctor Syed Fasihuddin, my papa found friends in the janitors, the nurses, the heads of departments, fellow doctors, dentists, and pharmacists. Every time we went with Papa to the hospital with him as kids, we were treated like royalty.

“Dr Syed’s children? Beautiful like Baba. MashaAllah”

At the King Abdul Aziz Hospital (Al Zahir Hospital), papa was royalty. Everyone from the Hospital mudeer (director) to the shirke wala (janitor) in his clinic loved and respected him. As he walked through the hallways, tall, handsome and always smiling, everyone would say Salam to him, on occasions give him a high-5 or two, crack a joke or go as far as to jokingly wish him “a happy second marriage soon, handsome doctor”. Of course, he laughed it off but he always found this conversation tasteless.

Dr Fasihuddin in his scrubs in Saudi Arabia.

Several of his patients and their families would call papa, send him and our families duas over the phone and even sometimes gifts. Papa would always say that the good that happens to us is because of the blessings he earns through his service.

Ammi was often asked, “Don’t you feel insecure about your husband bring so popular in the community?”

But ammi clearly did not.

Working in the main hospital in Makkah as a pulmonologist for 25 years, he treated patients as well as local and international Hajjis for SARS, MERS, different strains of influenzas, pneumonias, tuberculosis and other chest diseases routinely. The Covid-19 situation was not the first pandemic he was dealing with. When my mother told him to be careful in Karachi, he simply said,

“Covid-19 is the third Corona pandemic that I am serving through. I know it very well.”

Papa’s father, my dada (grandfather), was also a chest specialist and worked as the director of the Ojha Institute of Chest Diseases for several years. My dada, Dr Syed Sabihuddin chose to specialise in this branch of medicine after he lost his young brother to tuberculosis. Ironically, my father passed away in the same campus to another chest disease, Coved-19, 30 years later – an ending we could have never imagined, even in our worst nightmares.

Despite such a bright and happy career in Saudi Arabia, papa never felt like he was settled. He had a fire in him to work in Pakistan always and follow in the footsteps of his father to work for patients back home. After 25 years of service at Saudi Arabia’s Ministry of Health, my father packed his bags, said goodbye to his lucrative salary and high connections to come back to Karachi to set up his own health institute, in his mother’s name, Taj Consultants Clinics. It would be a tale for another time how Papa avoided giving out a single rupee in bribes and managed to escape the net of corruption in the local governments, but as papa always did, he found a way to make sure his savings were not given out in haram transactions and wasted.

For the initial few years, my father used a borrowed Suzuki Alto for his travels in the city and didn’t even purchase a single new shirt for himself as the focus was to invest all that he had in the Taj Project. Yet, he never denied me anything my heart desired and even though my wedding came during the difficult time of setting up the project, papa strived to make it the happiest occasion of our lives.

After five years of hard work and working 16 hours a day with dedication at his own clinic, papa finally made his father’s dream come true, but he took no time off to celebrate this achievement as his work had become his way of life. With clinic administration to oversee in the morning and then a packed clinic in the evening, my father’s life had become his work. He never denied a patient’s phone call even in the middle of the night. If a patient was outside his clinic for him after it closed, he would still bring the patient in and see him or her.

The author and Dr Fasihuddin

With rising Covid-19 cases in the country, papa did not close the doors to his clinic, despite protests from us, his children and ammi. He refused to shut his clinic for June, as he was worried about his patients and did not want them to be left with no place to go. Taj Consultant Clinics was to remain open and running.

After he contracted the coronavirus and was admitted, he kept discussing his own x-rays and investigations with the treating consultants, fearless and very hopeful that he will brave through the worst of it and survive. During his isolation in the hospital, he also kept in touch with all of us on our family Whatsapp group till Wednesday, June 24th,

“All good here. How are you guys doing?”

It was then that the x-ray showed that his lungs were deteriorating and he was put on a ventilator. After that we did not hear from him but still kept checking messages every now and then. At the time of his death, at 1pm on Friday, June 26th, several patients waited outside his clinic patiently for a consultation with Dr Syed Fasihuddin.

This was also the day that the sky fell on our family and our lives came crashing down, to the extent that we are still in a state of shock and denial. We are still hoping that this is all a very long nightmare that we are going to wake up from.

While he was a doctor and a friend to many, to me, he was my papa, my strongest advocate and my biggest supporter. He taught me the most about empathy, kindness, the value of service, hard work and how far a single good deed can go, by being an example through his own life. Without him, my world is dark and without him, I see no solutions to the problems that lie ahead.

As a daughter of a martyred frontline worker in the era of Covid-19, I wonder if I will ever be the same again and I wonder if papa’s sacrifices and years of service will be recognised by the people he chose to work for. Either way, there is no solace for this loss in our family, because everything is reversible, except death.

All pictures courtesy Fatima Fasih

WRITTEN BY:
Fatima Fasih

Currently based in Manila, the author specialises in corporate sustainability and sustainable development with experience working with the Pakistan Business Council. Fatima is a graduate of the University of Toronto’s Masters of Science in Sustainability Management program and actively participates in the management and administration of Taj Consultant Clinics. In her spare time, Fatima spends time with its her plants, running and painting in watercolors. She has also received many awards for using her watercolor paintings for charitable work.

Farewell to Dr. Syed Fasihuddin- 11

There is only one certainty in life and we know what that is. Rest everything else is randomly uncertain.

Fasih was one of the fittest among his peers, immediate and extended family. It wasn’t by chance. He made a conscious effort to stay fit but without bragging about it. He would climb stairs instead of taking elevator, was an early riser , jog first thing in the morning, even took afternoon naps and ate small meals. He got himself tested often. Never ignored his well being. He never even procrastinated opportunity to enjoy because of any pending work or stress, whether going for a long drive, going out to eat, travelling abroad or even enjoying pruning plants on his terrace garden. Talking with his 4 grey parrots in the morning as he himself cleaned their huge cages, and fed them by hand or playing catch and run with his dog Elmo on the terrace at end of his clinic every evening were his uninterrupted routine.
Buying a new hoodie every few days in winter for Elmo was a must. He would tell him, “Pher phaar di. Baap ka maal hai na.” (Tore it again? Of course its your Dad’s money.).
And Elmo wouldnt listen. And he wouldnt stop getting him a new one.

In subtle and direct ways he showed his concern about all others around him with health challenges.
His cousin avoided coming to clinic because he knew he would ask. “Get your BP checked.”
He would go with his friends to NICVD for their angiography or to a friend Orthopedic Surgeon with another friend who was planning knee replacement.
His cousins and friends who were overweight and sedentary, he would be reminded to exercise and get active.
Retired friends who were going through depression he would say, “Volunteer at Edhi clinic at least. Keep yourself busy with rewarding work.”
He regularly called his friend in Europe, to inquire on his tests, who was recently diagnosed with malignancy and worried for his life.
With me he always checked if I was taking my thyroid meds regularly, if I began jogging or “at least climb stairs”. “Eat well.” “You drink too much coffee.”
He called both kids individually and would advise them to not stress like their mother, and challenges are part of life to be taken in a stride.
Whenever skeptics talked of age as, “Its written” he would reply, “But quality of live you live is in your hands.”

My mother and brothers Hilmi & Subhi were regularly called and checked their well being. He was the go to person for any tests done on Ammi.
Once 4 years ago when Ammi was diagnosed and treated by doctor as “early demetia with depression” he asked my brother, “What are her electrolytes like?”
Apparently the Psychiatrist in Delhi hadn’t tested her blood for 2 years. So when she was tested on Fasih’s request, she turned out to be severely hyponatremic. And the whole diagnosis changed. I reached Delhi, got Ammi admitted, and in 15 days with her Na levels normal, she was back to her alert self. No dementia. No depression. Simply misdiagnosis.
Fasih was angry, “Yeh tumhare Indian trained psychiatrist hain? Change her doctor.” And ultimately started following her up himself remotely. 2 years ago he so wanted to visit Delhi with me. But I got the Visa, but he couldnt. He was very upset.

I had only one worry about Fasih and that was he was too active and being lean had started developing osteopenia. He did take meds, but I told him repeatedly ” you have to slow down. You cant afford to fall”. He knew it. He listened to me, but also knew it was too hard for him to slow down.
11 weeks that he was here in Canada in last 4 months of his life, he really did not have any work, but still wouldn’t sit still. He was restless, as if he had a close deadline.
He loved long drives and we missed no opportunity for that.
He had a curious desire to travel the world by road, so that he didnt miss any part of this earth. We did make several memorable unusual road trips in 30 years together. Last being from Gilgit to Hunza to Khunjerab at China border in June 2019 and Las Vega to Grand Canyons in Sep 2019. But there were many more planned for the future.

It breaks my heart many times each day to imagine, the person who we presumed to be the least at risk health wise, was picked up by the Angel of death, while me a lazy procrastinator is left behind to grieve his loss.

Something my daughter said today made me pause and think…
“Ammi Papa lived a quality and fulfilling life in every way, through his strong physical, mental health and his actions. He absolutely loved what he was doing. He was greatly loved by others too. He always asked for a quality life and God gave him all that.”

I only wish God gave you a bit of extension too. Today is the third Friday without you my dear Syed Fasihuddin.
https://www.facebook.com/quraishi.ilmana/posts/3458676334144910

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Life and its Weird Games…

Life plays such weird games with us.

Back in late 1996, when Syed Fasihuddin and I were in KSA. Fasih worked with Ministry of Health while I was working for the National Guards Health Affairs.
My best friend-colleague then was an Egyptian Gynecologist Nada. She was posted in Taif and I was in Makkah.
We met each other for a week, once a year when were posted in the Saudi Royal National Guards Hajj camp in Mina as frontline doctors for Hajjis including Saudi royalty, during Annual Haj Pilgrimage. Living together in a tent 24×7 for a week gave opportunity to know other colleagues who came from different cities as far as Riyadh from National Guard Family.
There were just a handful of us nonSaudi expats, as most doctors, due to the nature of the organization were Saudis.
As we got to know each other she shared how she had put her 4 years old daughter in Kindergarten in a Pakistani School in Taif. The little girl taught her mother Urdu and the typical kids-urdu-talk like “Katti-Dosti”, “Yeh meri dost hai”, “Tumko Urdu kaise aati hai?” “Merey ghar aaogi?”
Nada would humorously share all the Urdu she had learned from her little kiddo.
Such as the environment is in KSA, I found Nada, a gorgeous young woman, very bubbly, full of life, but naive and very protected and dependent for everything on her very sober, caring husband.
In the rest of the year we got busy in our respective works and talked to each other frequently on phone about our common interest ObGyn as we both were studying for MRCOG.
She once called to tell how her sister’s husband was suffering from liver failure (Bilharziasis-very common in Egypt) and they were planning to take him to Sheikh Zayed Hospital in Pakistan for liver transplant. I spoke to Fasih and he said he will explore to expedite their trip.
I sent her few messages but did not hear back for almost 6 months. I wondered why, and had worst fears about her brother in laws life.

One day I got a call from Nada. Before I could ask her about her brother in law she spoke, “Ilmana, I am devastated. My husband passed away in the hospital, after a very short mysterious, undiagnosed illness.”
I was badly shaken. “How could this happen to Nada? She has a 5 year old and a 7 year old. And she is so emotionally and physically dependent on her husband for everything.” Nada was 36 then.
I would cry with Fasih. He was extremely shaken too. And told me to keep talking to her.

I dont remember how many months Nada and I would both cry on both sides of the phone.
I was so scared for Nada. First year was horrible, I still remember very well.
Later she told me “I wanted to die too. But then i saw my little kids’ innocent faces.”

Very gradually Nada continued to gather herself and gain strength. She stayed in Taif due to a good job, though living alone as an expat woman in Saudi Arabia is not easy.
A decade passed.

In 2009 we moved to Canada. I so wanted Nada to come along too. But this woman who had by now carved her own strong personality had decided she will do MRCGPI and go back to work in Egypt when her son finished High School. And imagine for this, her examination centre fell in Karachi, in the times when Pakistan was struggling with frequent terror attacks. She called me to inform me. I was too paranoid too for a gorgeous foreigner woman travelling alone to Karachi. Despite her family’s concerns she chose to travel (ofc with pre-arrangements for her safety), took her exam and returned back safely in 3 days.
Fasih told me, “Be brave like your best friend.”

Now, she lives in Cairo, is working in University and with her kids grown up. And is reaching out to us from Cairo, Egypt telling me she knows exactly how hard it is. And to be brave.
Link: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=3449672138378663&set=a.650573898288515&type=3&theater&notif_t=feedback_reaction_generic&notif_id=1594733414984302

Farewell to Dr. Syed Fasihuddin – 10

You know what is the height of helplessness for us?
That:
Syed Fasihuddin was fittest among all his peers. Fit as fiddle.
On Sunday evening, while tying his show laces, he was telling his mother-like sister, our Kosar Baji, who had come to pick him up to take for hospital ER, “Its just Ilmana and Fatima are pushing me to go to hospital. I will come back in two days.”
He had told us, ‘Wait till Monday morning. Ox sat will be fine, I have oxygen cylinder at home.” But Fatima & I threw a tantrum to not delay. He agreed readily.
He then went to his terrace garden and brought in some potted plants inside saying, “They will get burnt in two days in the sun. I will put them back later.”
He talked to his grey parrots and told them, “Khuda Hafiz.”
In the car, he kept telling his sister, “They will give me Dexa, Heparin, high pressure oxygen…”
He went walking into the hospital and discussing his own test reults with the doctors. And was very relaxed.
Fasih got admitted in hospital as soon as soon as his oxygen saturation fell 87%. He did not have any beathlessness. There was no delay.
His lungs at that time were 2/3rd clear on admission.
He recieved a state of the art WHO protocol treatment in a top hospital in Karachi for COVID.
He got evey single medication that is being recommended for COVID19 without delay, including Actemra and Remdesivir.
He had no delay in getting to ICU, or did not wait for Ventilator.

Even then, he lost the battle against COVID 19 in just FIVE days. From Sunday evening to Friday afternoon. If this does not ring bells against this beast, then nothing else will to #covidiots morons.

Below two pics were his profile pics in COVID times. One of them still is, and will remain there as a memory to his sacrifice as a Pulmonologist gone in the line of service. Taj practiced exemplary care to screen patients, practice social distancing and raise awareness.

But ofcourse he was still a bloody civilian, so his sacrifice doesnt mean much to the Govt. of Pakistan. Sigh !
https://www.facebook.com/quraishi.ilmana/posts/3444028215609722?comment_id=3444202482258962&notif_id=1594565950845750&notif_t=comment_mention

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Farewell to Dr. Syed Fasihuddin – 9

Today is the second Friday without Fasih. Fridays are the the toughest, as it was that fateful Friday on 26 June when Fasih was taken away from us. I know Fridays will haunt me rest of my life.

He was in the hospital for 5 days. Thats all. He kept updating in few words about his wellbeing. And kept reassuring us he was fine. A message from ‘Syed’ on the group was the happiest moment Fatima, Ismail and I waited for all the time, especially early in the morning, when he would ask the doctor to give him special favour to allow him to message the family.

I often go back to our family messenger group watch his messages, where Fasihs messages kept coming from hospital till he was in ICU but not ventilated.
To all his visitors who went to see him from the glass window he waved a thumbs up.
Mazhar messaged Fatima, “Bobby chachoo is a fighter he is facing it with courage and positivity. And he will sail through.”

Fasih was fortunate to have been given a state of the art care that followed WHO protocol. He was one of the rare in Pakistan, who even recievd Remdesivir. As a healthprofessional and a wife myself, a million details arise in my mind, knowing how involved Fasih was in his own management.
My heart wrenches imagining the visual image of the moment he must have been intubated.  And the imagination of what conversation must have taken place between an ICU Consultant and a Pulmonologist patient being told that he is going to be intubated, and how must he have agreed to it.
A pulmonologist himself who was known for being the most skilled and famous for performing a super smooth intubation to his patients.
How smooth or not must have been his own intubation?
Once ventilated, with general anaesthesia my man slept peacefully, and his messages to us also fell silent.
Even the moment Kosar Baji called me to say, “Bobby has just had a cardiac arrest and they are giving him DC shock.”
I called Fatima and we both were so sure he will get back the heart beat.
He himself had managed a couple of cardiac arrests as a team where the persons had come back and lived for decades. But nothing worked. 2 DC shocks and 30 min of CPR, all proved in vain. Sigh !

My robust, healthy, superfit husband who had absolutely NO comorbidity had to be ventialted in last 2 days of his life and ventilator which he called a life saver to his own patients, could not save him.
Why? Why? Why?
I know why. It is because of those wretched reckless evils who continued to go for Eid shopping, iftars, eid milans and congregational prayers in mosques. How much of a grudge i hold against them, no one can imagine. I will not forgive them.

Even now, my blood boils seeing shopping centers full, ladies thronging stores for Eid discounts. I will never be able to wish well these shopping and party and congregation obsessed morons, who are making known and unknown doctors, healthworkers sick or dead on a daily basis. For no fault of their own.

There are some other health professionals who I know are going through symptoms currently. Some are waiting to get infected, because as a friend today remarked, “Ultimately we all will get it. Virus is not going anywhere. And people are not getting any sense.”

I am so bitter that honestly I want to tell frontline doctors in places where people and govts are not interested in lockdowns,
“Dear docs bund karo mareez dekhna. Jo merna chahtey hain unko bachane ki kya zaroorat hai? Daffa karo proffessional duty. Apni jaanon ko aisey logon ke liye khatm kerne ka koi faayeda nahin hai.”
Let them taste the medicine of their own doing.
https://www.facebook.com/quraishi.ilmana/posts/3439269086085635

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Cherish the Living Angels Around you in their Lifetime !

Some people are probably angels walking on earth as human beings.
Family, close friends, his patients knew Fasih exactly as that even in his life. In my decades of association with him, all I heard about him was finest of accolades and praises. People loved him very dearly in his living life. He was one of these fortunate ones who recived immense love for all his life, and is still recieving outpouring of love.
However this post is not about him.

I just want to reassure the world that there must be many such beautiful people around you who just give, without any expectations of return of favour.
Fasih, Fatima, Ismail and I are blessed to know one more such living angel.
She is more than just a friend, to whom I owe many things.
She was the first person I reached out looking for work, when in Canada, after googling about an organization for women’s health and found “Aurat Health Services”.
In the chilly winter of January 2010, it was heavily snowing and I took a bus to meet its founder and CEO.
An extremely good looking, graceful and extremely polished woman greeted me and the only question she asked me was, “How can I help you?”
She later became my only reference to the job I currently hold for United Way.
How did this association develop into a deep friendship I have no clue.
I don’t even remember if I did anything substantial for her EVERRR….Yes I don’t recall anything.
She has been through a lot, from losing her husband as a newly married 15 day old bride 25 years ago in Islamabad after being shot for robbery( and never re-married), to losing her dynamic mother to cancer and then herself going through health issues.
I hardly showed up more than a couple of times to see her ailing mother.
And when she had her surgery, I called her I will come, but just forgot to visit. No excuses, just callousness. She NEVER complained.

And on her end, she has always been there uninvited in all our good and bad times- from Fatima’s wedding preps, to some personal health issues, to Ammi’s visit, when Fatima had nomination for Mississauga Arts Council and Fatima couldn’t attend, Samina represented her in abstentia, to the current devastating tragedy at Fasih home.
From day 1 after Fasih’s demise, she has been popping in, to see Ismail and me, sometimes even twice a day to check on us. She loaded the fridge with Ismail’s favourite foods.
And she is not a faarigh(vella) person by-the-way. Much like Fasih was all the time, her hands are always full with responsibilities taken upon voluntarily.
She is an extremely busy professional and also has social responsibilities like ‘ours’. She is a caregiver to her father. I know she has a bunch of friends, who are her daughter, sister and many things to her, and who are with her like her shadow. ( I am not one of them unfortunately).
Yesterday she came in and we chatted about something.
And in the conversation she mentioned, “Mere peeche tou koi rone wala bhi nahin hai.” ( There’s no one there to cry after me.)
My heart sank as she said it by-the-way. But I held my emotions back. After she left, I howled my heart out.
I want to wish her a long long life, longer than mine. But I also want to tell her, you are not alone. You have a bunch of angels surrounding you on this very earth, in this very Mississauga. I am referring to Ala, Farzeen, Saman and the whole beautiful gang.
Samina Talat I want to tell you, Fatima, Ismail are there for Samina Khala, and so am I for my little behn. I’ll try to get better at it.

I am sorry, I did not take permission from her to share this because I know she wouldn’t have given me. But its okay, if you are angry, come home and scream at me whenever you want.

If you guys have such living angels around you cherish them in their lifetimes. Don’t wait for them to go to remember how selfless they were.

Farewell to Dr. Syed Fasihuddin – 8

In 2010 friends in Aman Ki Asha coaxed me to share my experiences as an Indian Pakistani cross border marriage.
The story of our marriage, of an Indian moi to an amazing Pakistani Syed Fasihuddin came to seen by most as an epitome of love and a great example of success. I always shared with honesty the bumpy ride that every marriage endures, especially when there is so much red tape of visas between the two countries.
Not being a Bollywood fan myself, I was in no mood to portray it a Veer Zara filmi story.

Even then I started getting many emails from girls in cross-border relationships especially those brewing on social media.
My advice, then and even now, to everyone was to be extremely cautious of barriers and know the real person well beyond social media, before deciding to take a big plunge into across border matrimony.

Over the years, almost 75% of these relationships fell apart, either for practical.reasons or when they got over the infatuation with time.

To my utter surprise I also came to be told first hand(by at least 5 girls).of how boys across the border were using their relationship to milk money from the girls. In every single case the boys were Pakistani and the girls were Indian.

Why am I writing this now?
Recently a famous Pakistani journalist and twitter activist was arrested for abusing and killing his wife.

About 8 years ago a girl from Delhi who was supposedly dating this guy wrote to me, “Baji how can i send money to someone in Pakistan” she was planning to marry.
She did not share the name or details.
Having already seen a few such cases i got alarmed. I told her, “Have you met him in person?”
She replied, “Baji he is a famous twitter activist.”
I still insisted you meet him first. Then decide.
I never heard back from her till 2 years.

Then she wrote to me 2 years later how she is recovering from the breakup. Because she did not send the money, he wrote back to her telling another story of how his mother is indebted to his Khala and because of that she is forcing him to marry his cousin with disabilities. I gave her a smack on messenger and told her to, “Hosh mein aa jaao. This looks like a drama. I told you first meet him.”
She did not respond to me for a few months.
Then one day she happily messaged me saying I was so right and revealed to me the name of the guy. She then emailed me the evidence. This was the same guy who has been arrested recently for killing his wife and for being a twitter blackmailer.

I did share this with a few close friends, one of whom had been asking me to write a book on India-Pakistan experiences both positive and negative including these social media stories.
In fact one of them was so annoyed that they taunted, “Kabhi mutt likhna ye kitaab, acha? “

When I shared these fraudulent stories with Fasih, and how many girls were infatuated by our story, he would often tease me with his million dollar smile and mild humor, “Tell them you dont find Fasihuddins very common in Pakistan.”
Indeed. Couldnt agree more. 
Not just Pakistan, it is very hard to find such an upright man of values anywhere in the world.

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Farewell to Dr. Syed Fasihuddin – 7

Best things come in threes: best friend( & partner) , dreams and memories !

Fasih was with us in March for 2 weeks. Then the airlines shut down as the world went in extreme lock down. He went on to stay with us for 11 weeks, in strict lockdown. It was such a blessing in disguise. Just Fasih, Ismail and myself…Cooking our fav family meals, iftars, cuddling cats, bringing new potted plants as he loved gardening, playing ludo, video games with Ismail, occaisional squash, and daily walks of all three of us across wilderness in Mississauga. We made long drives across Ontario every few days. He would stop at every thing simple or surreal like horses grazing in cold wearing jackets, geeze crossing the road or even a raccoon coming close to our car fearlessly to snap pictures. He enjoyed every bit as we drove alternately. He loved driving, so I let him drive, while I clicked pictures.

I am gathering courage to share this:

A few days ago, after several nights I slept without Clonazepam, and he was there in full form and spirits in the dream.
He was driving as we saw some beautiful fall trees in yellow and red. He told me,
“Begum you drive now. I want to enjoy the scenes.”
I hope he is now in a happy place now and watching upon us.

Everyday I wake up disoriented, shake my head to feel maybe all this was just a bad dream I am waking up to. But it only gets real and more real each new morning.
As we go on with morning coffee, shower, remote meetings with staff at Taj, lunch, phone calls, everything seems to be returning to normal, with crying spells getting less frequent, tears drying up, and I hate it.
I hate it.
I hate it.
What is the point of getting ‘sabr’ when Fatima, Ismail and I have everything but Fasih.

I dont want to trivialize others grief.
My husband’s older sister Syeda-Kosar who was his friend, a fellow proffessional doctor too, and most of all a confidante, is extremely depressed and misses him dearly.
My brothers Hilmi, Subhi and Ammi who cheer me up on phone that “Look how much of a footrint of goodness Fasih has left behind. People dont achieve half as much till their 90s which he did till 59, and quietly left the scene.”, I know cry after putting the phone down.
Its not easy for them and many others either.

And worst of all, its not yet over. I shudder with chills in my spine to imagine, who are next in line to be taken away? From us or from any one else we may not know.

Please keep safe. This virus is an apathetic killer, ruthless life-wrecker. Be very very careful.

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Farewell to Dr. Syed Fasihuddin-6

COVID19 is not a mild virus. Its a ruthless destroyer. Those who havent felt it are either super lucky to not have been affected close to home or are simply covidiots.
It kills. It killed my dearest person, a strong sturdy man, in just 3 days. He never ever had even fever, and would climb 12 stories in one breath, without being breathless. There was no comorbidity.
It has killed my two first cousins in India. Finest of people. And three dearest doctor friends of my husband, just in the same month June.
And a few of the loved ones who have been sick and now surviving are going through a very debilitating post covid recovery.
Sometimes it feels as if COVID19 chose to come to us. But I know, it has turned many homes upside down. It has snatched may fine, sincere human beings from their loved ones.
The only ones who seam to survive and thrive are the evil leadership across the globe, who heartlessly pursue ‘open the economy’, ‘smart lockdown’, ‘herd immunity’ devils.

I want the architects of smart lock down in Pakistan @Asad_Umar, @ImranKhanPTI & @ArifAlvi to just spend one month taking vitals of #COVID19 patients in ER, each doing 8hr shifts. Just 30 days in ER.
Then I will ask if they like the mess and life threatening situation they have put the frontline doctors into by their herd immunity stunt.

As a doctor friend who messaged and shared this below asks: ” Covid is taking the finest people away. I haven’t seen a badmash dying of covid. Have you?”

And this includes many doctors too, who are simply paying the price of apathetic leadership and callous masses.

Farewell to Dr. Syed Fasihuddin- 5

Ever since Fasih had started developing bodyache and slight fever and he had isolated himself for safety of others, both Fasih and I were in constant touch with a brilliant doctor who is updating himself on COVID by minute as he also works in a covid ward in one of the major COVID Centres in Karachi.

Throughout my husbands isolation, decision for admission, follow up in HDU then ICU he was my guide.
When he told me on a message, “Madam start preparing for Remdesivir, it takes a long paper work and he needs it asap.” I immediately remembered Shaila Andrabi had mentioned a bhai of hers who had also procured licence to get this wonder drug. So I messaged her in desperation. She messaged Osman Waheed, and I have no idea who he is except that he was the man to go to for Remdesivir.
Shaila sent me his message, “I am going to call Dr. Fasih now”.
I replied, “No Shaila, Fasih is in ICU ask him to call his nephew.”
What 6 days, Remdesivir was available in ICU for Fasih in 6 hours. The drug costs a whopping PKR 98,000 and Osman Waheed refused to take money, as I was later told.
Fasih recieved 3 of the 5 doses before he gave up his battle against COVID.

I was devastated and disoriented. I did not have strength to talk to anyone or get condolences from except very close of kin and friends, for almost till yesterday the 10th day.