Blind to Bounds

Farewell to Dr. Syed Fasihuddin-14

Today July 24, 2020 is the third Friday without Fasih and will.be a month in 2 days. So today’s post is going to be about a thorough proffessional and an ardent dreamer Karachiite that Fasih was.

Last Friday, it rained for about 10-15 minutes in Karachi and the whole city turned into a puddle.
The Manager at Taj was informed by most of the Consultants that they will not be coming to see the patients, as there is no way to drive from their places to the clinic. Moreover due to failure of electricity in major areas, fear of electrocution on waterlogged roads and traffic jam, the staff knew there will be no patients walking in the clinic.

Our most dedicated Managers of Taj, who have been working with Fasih for 5 years, took an executive decision and closed Taj at 7:30PM. Not only just that, a note of compassion from of the Managers was sent to the rest of the staff on the “Dr. Fasih’s Staff” WhatsApp Group:

“May this rain and season be a source of blessing and purity for all of us. Stay safe and be very conscious about the people around you. Drive slow, stay away from wires, and close to your loved ones.”

In short, just a 15 minutes of rain in Karachi wreck so much havoc that everything came to a stand still. It was not just our workplace that closed. Unfortunately this is not the first time, nor will it be the last time that this happened in Karachi.
Every year in rainy season I saw Fasih get frustrated at the deluge that Karachi faced after every single shower, long or short. And then followed the filth, and smell that floated with the rain water across the roads. He posted in various Karachi groups on various forums, sharing his angst to complain and to ask for solutions. However pretty soon he realized that there was no one interested in his or a 100 million other Karachiites plight. But he refused to give up. I knew he would never give up

For 30 years that I was married to him, all I saw in him as we lived abroad was a never ending glimmer of hope that Karachi will get better sooner than later. He argued with skeptics, that we just cannot hope that others do it, we need to act and participate in the process ourselves too.
Many ridiculed him by saying, “Duniya chaand pe jaa rahi hai, aur Dr. Sb aap Karachi jana chahtey hain?”
I knew him and his willpower to go against the tide pretty well, and hence despite fears, I chose to stand by his decision.
‘No, are you crazy’, ‘paagal hai kya’ comments from friends and others did nothing to change his mind.

He was an apolitical man and a thorough professional. His ideal of serving Karachi and Pakistan was though a much needed and missing honest and clean service to the community. How he navigated the red tape without paying any bribes, but that is a story to be shared at another time. But all I can say is he convinced even the most corrupt officers ( one of them is a fugitive currently), saying very bluntly, “I want to do good work, and I cannot pay any bribe.”
Believe me, even the most corrupt directors complied without charging any bribe for his project and with a request, “Dr Sb apne nek kaam mein hamare liye bhi dua kerna.”

He was an uncomplicated man, so he wanted to do clean work. He had patience, and immense perseverence, that I have yet to see in any other Karachiite, and would never take short cuts to achieve his goal. He often said, “I sleep well at night because I have no skeletons in my cupboard.”

He wrote several times in the FB group Mera Karachi Group, in desperation and with pictures when the 14 story apartments residents next to Taj threw garbage including used diapers and sanitary napkins on the roof of Taj Consultants Clinics. He reached out to local Counselor, local MPA and local MP( that was Imran Khan) but no one paid much heed. Local building managers said, “the residents don’t listen to us.”

Not only did he dream of a quality healthcare, he also worked in and around Taj through his Not For Profit organization Tabeer, for health awareness, holding many CME sessions, awareness campaigns for TB, Bronchial Asthma, free clinics in poor communities, school health check ups and for environment through celebrating Green Day on Earth Day at the clinic, and by planting trees around the Gulshan Chowrangi. Celebrating 14 August and Qauid e Azams Birthday on 25 December were two events staff and patients keenly looked forward to.

As COVID challenge came, the Clinic made all possible SOPs for social distancing and disinfection. Fasih, continued advocating to family, friends, patients and community for social distancing and to stay home. He lambasted those who said, “COVID tou bus drama hai.” He was annoyed when Karachiites seemed more interested in Eid Shopping and Iftar parties and even govt and judges were openly advocating to let people carry on with Eid shopping.
He told me on several calls, “Let this pandemic be over, I will give you details to write about the wrecklessness of masses and the stigma that people had made COVID19 into.”
He would get patients who were unwilling to get tested for COVID19. One educated man told him, ‘Sir I have 3 unmarried daughters, how can I label myself COVID19.”
Even the moments he was breathing his last few breaths in the ICU at Dow Ojha Campus, barely 5kms away, his patients were waiting un the waiting area at Taj. His patients came from as far way as Balochistan, interior Sindh and even from DHA and Clifton within Karachi.

He had worked in SARS & MERS Pandemics in the Middle East, and he told me, “COVID19 Pandemic is far more chaotic than those of SARS or MERS.”

Just in June, he was devastated himself when he lost 3 close friends, all doctors to COVID19- A plastic surgeon in UK, a surgeon in Riyadh and a GP in Makkah.
I told him this is dangerous, and he retorted, “Do you want me to go into hiding? A Pulmonologist to go into hiding?”
Unfortuntely a man who had never feared for his life even in the worst of Karachi days, lost his battle to COVID19 on Friday at 1PM on 26 June 2020. It just took 3 days for a robust fit man to go downhill.

A dreamer of Karachi closed his eyes at the age of 59 and departed for his heavenly journey 4 Fridays ago. I am sure Allah must have rewarded him with the cleanest and purest abodes in Jannah, knowing how much aspired for honest work and clean actions when on Earth.

We often shared jokes in poetry. When he struggled with the challenges in Karachi after working on ground, I would tell him:
“Deewane tou pehley hii the, ab aur tarah ki deewangi hai.”

He would give his million dollar signature smile and reply:
“Zindagi kya hai jaanne ke liye, Karachi mein rehna bahut zaroori hai.”

I know he was not the first dreamer-cum-doer of Karachi, nor will he be the last. However, I wonder if Karachi will ever change for better or will more dreamers of Karachi depart one after the other, just taking their dreams to their graves.
Amidst all the mess and chaos in Karachi his willpower and passion made it possible to create an exemplary healthcare facility He has left big shoes for us as family to fill in. Insha’Allah we will take his mission and legacy forward and continue to strive for a better Karachi through our actions, until our last breath too.

To those dreamers of Karachi still around, I know he would want them to never give up because giving up is no solution to a better life.
https://www.facebook.com/quraishi.ilmana/posts/3479299375415939

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Breaking news to our Bua about Papa- by Fatima Fasih

In Makkah, where we grew up, we had a Bua who was Siraiki and originated from a village in Multan/Bahawalpur area. She lived with us from 1994 to 2009, until we left Makkah and moved to Canada. She was our nanny and househelp, but really she was family and like a Nani to us. She had a tough life with experience ranging from physical domestic abuse, isolation after separating from her husband who was a drug addict and then moving to the city to work for a household with her only daughter, despite being educated and literate. She was able to read and write Urdu fluently. She taught us how to read the Quran and also how to pray. She was a vital part of our childhood and taught me a lot about life. She even asked us to teach her English and about the world. I showed her a World Map to teach her about countries when I was only 10. She had never seen a map before. She didn’t know what a globe was. That was my first reality check of the privilege we had and others didn’t.

When we were leaving Makkah, Bua decided she didn’t want to watch our home pack up so she moved back to her daughter’s place in Multan. She was in contact with Papa and would send Papa boxes of mangoes in the current season every year. She even came to Karachi for my wedding and then again for my sister in law’s wedding to help us out.

Today, I decided to call her and tell her about Papa’s death. I didn’t know how to do it. I just knew that she had to know. I prepared myself all evening after Rahma slept. How to say it? Should I start with him being sick or should I just tell that he passed away? I went ahead with the latter. When I called her grandson’s WhatsApp and asked to speak with her, she received the phone with so much happiness.

She kept saying, “Meri beti Kaisi hai? Photo mein itni pyaari hai apni baby k saath”

Then she went to ask casually how everyone was. “Ammi theek hain? Ismail theek hai? Papa theek hain? Mein aap k Papa ko call kerrahi thi. Lekin call mil nahi rahi thi…” Before she could say anything else, I told her that Papa passed away last month. Her voice changed. She said the words Innalillahiwainnailaihi Raajiun. And continued to ask the how’s and why’s. I explained, and she continued to cry as I cried. “Mera Beta Jannat chalagaya”. She mentioned how she knew how much he loved me, how much he cared for his daughter and all the times he boasted about me and my job and recently my baby girl on his routine calls with Bua. She told me she already had asked her nephew to prepare the mangoes to send to him this week, but now she will just distribute them in his name to the poor of the area.

I thought the call would make me stronger, help me deal with the grief head on, but it paralysed me more. Until the end of the evening. Until I sat with my husband and cried, realising once again the magnanimity of my loss.

My Bua spent 15 years with us, that is half my life and more than half of the total time I spent with Papa. She knew all about our home, our childhood. How could talking to her not break me?

Farewell to Dr. Syed Fasihuddin- 13

Fasih household is averse to all kinds of soap serials whether Indian, Pakistani or Turkish or whatever. Fake, unrealistic, imaginary stories are not our cup of tea.
Despite being born and raised in different environments and cultures, Fasih and I had few things very much in common. And one of them was aversion to TV Dramas.
We watched occasionally good movies in theatre only whether Bollywood or foreign. He did not have patience to sit through hours of meaningless movies. So did I.
Ofcourse at home it was as easy as switching channels with remote control. But we even walked out of the theater half way through if the film was not engaging.
Our taste for Hollywoid movies did not match. He loved fast paced Bond movies while I like more serious ones.

This time when he was here, from March till Msy 2020, theatres too had been locked down. The last movie we saw together at home was Irrfan Khans English Medium as a tribute to his life. But both of us did not find it as good as Hindi Medium we had seen together in theater in Mississauga few years ago.

His all time favourite Bollywood film was Zindagi Nahin Milegi Dobara. This totally reflected his utmost love to travel the globe by road and his philosophy of life to enjoy every moment.
He got time to listen to music only on long drives, which was his method of relaxation.
His favourite singer Abida Parveen played in his car all the time he went on long or short roads trips. Duma Dum Must Qalander…was his favourite of Abida. If there was anyone other than her, it was Jagjeet Singh. And Reshma too.
My car has my favourite music-Farid Ayaz and his Khusrau and Kabeer renditions. Fasih clearly sided with Bulleh Shah & Abida Parveen. We actually had made this an India Pakistan joke amongst us. 😀
But whenever he visited Delhi to see my folks, he would have on his itinerary a visit to Dilliwalas “Hazrat Nizamuddin & Amir Khusrau” tombs.

Being an ardent animal lover, pets were an constant and regular part of our household. Kids got parakeets, goldfish and turtles when they were small as gifts from Papa. Not only did Fasih loved animals, he actually interacted with them as individuals. Fasih inherited this love from his own father Dr. S M Sabhihuddin, who had deers, swans, ducks, turkeys, patridges, parakeets, peacocks( both white and colorful), macaws and a bunch of dogs at home in Karachi. The house was in itself a zoo for the kids of Dr. Sabih’s clan. As a result, Fatima and Ismail both have been raised as animal lovers and are pet owners on their own too.

Of all kinds to films or TV shows, wildlife documentaries are the favourites in Fasih home and ofcourse we found them therapeutic in the pandemic lockdown. Netflix was a blessing in lockdown and all three of us, Fasih, Ismail and I, completed the entire Animal Planet series together in last 3 months of his life.

This beautiful photo going viral brought back the memories which were recent, but had gone into some forgotten place as we mourn Fasih’s loss and imagine his gruelling last few days on a ventilator.
Loved to read these two different Panthers are courting each other for 4 years. I am sure if Fasih was around, he would crack.some joke and relate them to both of us. ❤

PS: These are just my personal memories I am sharing. They may not be relevant or interesting for others. Forgive me if my posts are getting annoying and unnecessary.

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A Letter to my Papa- by Fatima Fasih

Dear Papa,

It has been a few days since I’ve written about you or to you. Not a day has passed since your death when we have not remembered you, laughed about you or cried about you. I have started to understand now that you are in everything we do. I also know you are a martyr InshaAllah and you will live on with us in all the things we do. I hope now you can see Rahma’s free spirit nature comes from you as do her dimples. I hope you see how we’re no longer procrastinators since you were the do-er and now we do for you. I hope you can see how we enjoy the outdoors like you did, how we appreciate and take inspiration from all the things around us, like you did. I hope you can see how we’ve finally realised the value of prayer and faith. It’s still a long way ahead in this process of grief and remembrance, but we’re getting there from the strength we gain from you.

You were always larger than life and I know you are here even beyond your life. You are in the sunset, in the skies, in whisps of the champas, the smell of chaunsas, in the essence of everything good around us. I just hope you can also protect us and pray to Allah with us to make the tough road ahead easier for us, to send angels our way whenever we are lost or in crisis, and to protect us from all those with ill intentions or the evil eye. For as long as I live, I know you’ll be my guardian angel.

Your beti always,
Fama
(Link: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10158792601173615&set=a.10151673088468615&type=3&theater )

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Farewell to Dr. Syed Fasihuddin- 12

Fasih was a huge advocate of living a good life and taking challenges with a stride instead of drowning into stress.
He had unusually high emotional intelligence to manage stress with small pleasures along the way.
His one consistent lesson to me was, “Live your life too. Dont plan too much for the future.”

Despite being an ambitious alpha male, with apirations and high standards especially of quality work in Pakistan, he found pleasures in small things too. Things that most men would find sissy like keeping motia flowers for scent on his bedside, or wear a crisp starched kurta for Juma or driving upto the beach to watch sunrise and seabreeze early Sunday morning and then going for halwa poori nashta with old college friends, or spending Sunday evenings pruning his plants & playing with his pets on his terrace garden.

His last weeks with us in Canada tell a beautiful tale of his capability to enjoy every moment to its fullest. Following pics from his profile will give an idea of how he turned every challenging situation into an opportunity to live well and happy.

He arrived Mississauga on March 1 as usual for 3 weeks spring break, and was to return on March 21. Right on 19th March, much to my delight, the flights stopped. He was annoyed because he had “responsibilities and work at Taj.”
And then he would whine, “But what will i do stuck here? I cant sit idle.”
There was social.distancing and lockdown too. So there wasn’t any chance to socialize and visit friends or cousins.
Fasih began long drives and jogging. And would drag a lazy me along. And it turned out to be very personalized family time with him, Ismail and myself. He even turned this time into a busy routine- daily remote meetings with Taj staff, Webinar CMEs on COVID, table tennis with Ismail, long drives and walks will all 3 of us together.
After hundreds of calls to Pak Consulate and PIA he ultimately managed his return from Toronto to Lahore as there was no flight to Karachi in mid May. We did ask him to stay on, but he found our requests ridiculous. As Fatima and I often regret, wish I had lost or hidden his passport. I know he would have labelled me an unreasonable wife, but at least he would have been here and safe. 😦
He chose to drive from Lahore to Karachi and enjoyed every stop and scene along the way and kept sending us pics of sunsets, sunrise, check posts, local dhabas, with promises, “Next time you are here, we will drive upto Lahore.”.
Fatima and I kept calling him every couple of hours and he would respond to our calls with, “Ya ya, I am safe so far. Okay happy?”
He found our fears exaggerated.

Being a dog lover, his walks in the neighborhood made him friends with many neighborhood pet dogs, and even knew some of their names. I have lived in this house for 8 years, and I still did not know a single name. 🙂

In 11 weeks, he filled our solarium with plants. And reminded me, “Dont park your suitcases here again. Solarium is meant to keep plants.” 😀
The screenshots below give a snapshot of how he made the best of every ordinary moments in life.
As his sister while grieving still takes pride that, “What makes me contented is that my brother lived a happy life, and enjoyed every moment to its best. And God gave him whatever he asked for, be it name, respect, love, happiness, travel and success.”
Link: https://www.facebook.com/quraishi.ilmana/posts/3472049626140914

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My Ammi’s Agony

Talking to Ammi is the hardest thing in this world these days.

For a week past the tragic day, my brothers did not have the courage or the stength to tell her. Eversince she had heard that Fasih was unwell, an 80 year old Ammi of mine, weak and frail, had suddenly gathered some horse-power miraculously and sat down on janamaz, praying for “Bobby” as she called him, day and night.
It was heartbreaking to decide whether to tell her at all or not. But the zest with which she was praying day and night and every now and then asking my brothers, “Bobby mian ki khairyet aayi?” was too strenous to continue without telling her the tragic news. Otherwise, she would have gone praying forever…

I cannot thank enough my brothers Hilmi & Subhi, who managed it very tactfully and broke the bad news to Ammi, and literally carrying her in their fold, as she broke down.
For a couple of weeks, I was not in a state to face Ammi even on a video call so would talk to her on phone.
And both of us faked strength on each side to reassure that “I am strong, you must not worry about me.”

Today, I took the courage to talk to Ammi on a video call.
She was speaking, praying and was the bravest to not cry, but she was constantly looking at me, deeper than my face, as if trying to see through my brain. And I could see through her eyes, her heart was crying within. Sometimes, she paused for minutes, not say anything, but kept staring at me without a blink. ;(

Meri Amma, I am so sorry for all this pain that you have to go through at this frail age and uncertain times. I wish we could help ourselves and help you too. I wish I could hug you tight, so we could cry our hearts out on your chest.
I so wish I could hug my daughter and her daughter too.

Special love to my husband’s sister-cum-mother Kosar Baji who is also grieving a very personal loss. She is as hurt for Fasih as my own mother is. I wish I could hug her too.

One thing that angers me all through this grieving process is the single ritual one-liner ‘RIP’ or ‘Inna Lillahe….’ (He has gone, where he belonged to)& period, or the associated preaching that comes with it that “its haram to mourn for more than 3 days”, with little or no sensitivity that the person who went ‘back to Allah’ was someone’s son, someone’s brother, someone’s father, someone’s husband or even someone’s very dear friend too. And their hearts and lives were intertwined with the ‘departed’s’ heart and life too. And that those grieiving are not heartless machines that can be switched off and on with a timetable.
No one from us wants these people, who are not hurt to feel hurt. But at least quietly acknowledge our grief and tragedy.

Will these people say the same heartless one-liners or time and switch off their grief after 3 days when their own dearest ones will pass away too, prematurely and suddenly?

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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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