‘The absent GPS disorder’

It’s been five years since I’ve been going to this third, or fourth hospital, apart from the regular two hospitals I work at, occasionally for covering for a colleague, when she takes leave. It’s been over twenty years since I’ve been driving, both in India and the US.

But today I got lost. I was certain that it was some error with ‘google maps’ on my phone I simultaneously had on, along with my car’s navigation system. But they’d both repeat the same thing!

Annoyed and anxious, as I was getting late already, driving at 80 mph on the interstate, I called my husband, as both my maps insisted I take an exit right there, to turn around! To my surprise, he asked me to do the same, just as my GPS. But why?!

No, in between though, never drove all those years, when I was in Ukraine. Thankfully! I’ll get back to that!

I’m a mother, a wife, physician. Before this I’ve throughout my life been a daughter – younger one, a sister- younger one. Got married to my guy – of the two brothers, the older one.

In a way it’s vital to know the above, which for my defense that I’d need later down in this note, for a reason I’ve specified- that I’m the younger sibling, that I’ve always been. Yes, I was born that way, because my elder sister was already four, when I, as her younger sibling was born.

I so happened to be my parents’ younger daughter. Right! Since the time I was born, that’s how it’s been. And will forever be.

In India, during my blessed childhood years, I remember our Dad driving us to places, near or far. To school. To picnics. To destinations far away, where I’d manage to wake up as soon we’d get there most of the times, usually my first question being, ‘didn’t we even start yet?’, straightening my neck and head from over my sister’s shoulder or many a times her lap, where apparently God Somnus’ visit to me wouldn’t take even over five minutes of taking off from home!

Forget about the other little things like joining a classical dance class taking after my sister, trying to read similar books as she would, trying to twin up with her, whose long hair my Mom used to braid, but I had to hang long bunches of flowers as my hair was too short to be tied up. I’d imitate her in every way possible in day to day life, at school, at home, with developing my extra curricular activities. My sister was and has always been my idol, a guide, my best friend who’d even help me out doing my homework when I used to claim I was tired, playing hard outside with my friends and was done for the day! She’s been my well wisher, who I could get upset with for advising me for those teeny bits of things in life, I’d argue with her for disagreeing with my, quite frequently frivolous ideas though, but in my heart I’d blindly already believe that, what she was saying was not just right for me, but good for me too, in the long run!

My loving parents and my sister had spoilt me to the point that I, although very independent in many aspects of my life, where I disliked being told to not do, or even do something, I very much was the baby of that little, yet mighty pack!

I loved to write during those years too, in my diary I’d kept in my closet. Not in the kids’ room closet, which was my sister’s and mine, but I’d chosen a separate room in the house as well, just to my own self! So there was ours, which my sister couldn’t have done without not sharing with her little sister, then there was mine.

I was 12 when my Dad had bought a new car on my birthday and asked me to start driving locally, with him by my side, or the driver. Because I loved driving and I still do.

Then came a shocking turn in my life. Believe it or not, I got lost in the world somewhere for a few years, when my sister left for medical school. We didn’t have internet or cellphones during those years in India. We didn’t spend those days or nights being together. Sleeping in the same room. Going to school together. Playing or walking our dog together. I stopped going to sleep in the rear of the car, even if it was real long- distance drive my parents would take me to.. 14-15 hours. I’ll be still be wide awake

I’d continued to dance and started doing all my homework on my own. I’d use our closet and mine. She’d visit occasionally now and we’d visit her more for a few hours whenever possible with her busy schedule with her first year of medical school and second and so on!

I’ll not get sidetracked by the tears I’m in right now, with the nostalgia about those precious days, or of my childhood spent with her, of our sisterhood which went to hibernation for about 13 years, when we’d catch up each summer, as I’d visit home during my medical school years now, but things did become different, as in, we were both just visiting. Or staying. But not living there anymore!

In the negative temperatures in Ukraine where I went for my medical school, I’d have loved to drive, but Papa wasn’t by my side there to tell me when and where to turn to get to wherever I was headed. I managed to take the bus or the mini van service they used to have, with a clear sign stating the destination, but honestly I was clueless about the direction where to take it from, meaning, I couldn’t get the fact clear in my head anywhere, as to which side of the road I should be taking the bus from to get back home, to my hostel. As my family had appropriately diagnosed my Mom and me of ‘an absent GPS’, it held true a few times, when I didn’t see anyone from my class around to simply follow them and take the right bus. Or rather take that same bus, from just the correct side of the road. I remember most of the times I’d gotten lost and had embarrassingly continued to sit in that same bus after all the people would get off, at the final bus stop and the bus driver getting down to take a break, surprisingly would look at me, as to why I was still sitting in the bus. And I’d bashfully confess to him that I had to go to the destination stated, but probably on their way back. Another hour or two at times would be my commute on those awful days where the actual distance would’ve been less than seven minutes!

‘’That one mistake’’, I’d repeatedly think, ‘’why did I have to cross the road to take this same bus, when I saw the one with the same sign on my side of the road, where I’d stood initially?!’’

And now as my husband, who also happens to be a doctor has agreed with the diagnosis, for both my mother and me after a few witnessed relapses!

So my initial years in the US, he’d drive me around everywhere, as the hospital in Chicago, where I was doing my residency was across from where we lived. So we just managed with one car.

Also, my sister, who I finally got to be with after a window of 13 long years, was in Chicago. Obviously, that was my whole reason to be here in the US, as I’d always followed her footsteps. Yes, I managed to take all the USMLE steps in India, studying day and night, after my medical school in Ukraine, with the insight, with the desperate need of being with her again, motivated by that same ‘mighty pack’ I’d mentioned about earlier.

We’d get out of a restaurant and I’d turn left for the car. My sister, my husband would steer me right. 100% of the time. Just always, without exceptions, I had to take the opposite direction!

One day, it happened so, that a car almost hit mine, as it was my green signal, not his yet, but he hastily cut across me, almost kissing the bumper of my car. I stopped right there to call 911. He fled away. I didn’t move, as I had to let the cops see where the scene of the accident was. The person who answered the 911 call, after making sure we were alive and no one was dead or injured, asked me a simple question. ‘Where are you located?’

I started answering that I was headed home, from the hospital I work at and this was a four way crossroad on my way home. That she could look in the road cameras or in the map, if I had to get to my home address from the hospital I was working at, where exactly would I be. ‘Ma’am’, she interrupted me. ‘Tell me the direction you’re in. At least. Which direction are you driving in?’ I hung up and with a flushed face, called my husband to get to where I was. He got there in five minutes knowing where exactly I’d be, with the same way I’d explained to the police!

Now. Getting to where I started. It was clear I was lost. That’s why I usually have the two systems directing my senses to somehow GET there. Along with the numerous calls to my husband and sister. Many a times to my father, when my folks visit us.

I get it. I get lost. But not for long.

Although, believe me, I feel I should’ve gotten this part of my brain fixed, but I realize it can’t be, as it’s missing!

Thankful to not just technology, where a button would let me be in touch with my people, my parents, all the way in India, or the ‘older’ one of the siblings, who know the crazy in me and who’re no doubt, solely responsible for spoiling me with this severest form of ‘absent GPS disorder’, but more-so for being blessed to have these people in my life!