Tonight, a prayer for the mother of Sepoy Janjal Pravin Prabhakar receiving her son’s Kirti Chakra. Young Sepoy Janjal was killed in action in July 2024 after killing 2 terrorists in Kulgam, J&K. 💔🇮🇳
@sardesairajdeep IMPORTANT: as predicted and expected, UAE increases Petrol Diesel prices, Indian State Elections over, exit poll drama done, reality strikes! 🙏
We have large number of national and regional TV channels. Either it must be mandated by law that each and every channel must dedicate a share of their prime time ads to telecast awareness on road safety or CSR fund of GICs and petro companies could be utilized .
Our roads are claiming thousands of lives every year and injuring much more. Most of the accidents either due to lack of awareness or complete disregard for the road traffic regulations markings on the road etc. @PMOIndia@narendramodi@nitin_gadkari
It is high time we start educating people and try reducing the blood stains on our roads. My suggestion is we shall run awareness videos, educating people about good driving practices, through visual media ad insertions on prime time TV and social media.
A Journey Through Seizures, Struggles, and Strength
I first met her when she was barely six years old; a shy little girl with bright eyes, holding tightly to her mother’s hand. She had already experienced several seizures by then. Her parents were exhausted, frightened, and overwhelmed. As they sat in my clinic, the mother asked the question every parent of a child with epilepsy asks at some point:
“Will she ever live a normal life?”
Her diagnosis was clear: Childhood-onset epilepsy. What was not clear was how her journey would unfold.
Growing Up With Epilepsy
Through childhood, her seizures were unpredictable and unforgiving. A few happened in school, sometimes right in the middle of class. I still remember a particularly difficult phase, right before exams, when lack of sleep and stress would trigger breakthrough seizures.
Her parents would rush to my clinic or, at times, to the emergency room. Each visit carried the same mix of fear and hope.
We went through:
1. Dose adjustments
2. Medication trials
3. Counselling sessions
4. Gentle pep talks to keep her confidence alive
I would tell her, “Your condition does not define you. You are stronger than your seizures.”
Slowly, she began to believe it.
Teenage Years: Resilience Takes Shape
As she grew older, so did her understanding of her illness. She learned to avoid triggers, sleep well before exams, carry her medication responsibly, and deal with the occasional hospital visit with courage far beyond her age.
Despite all the setbacks, she completed her education brilliantly. She secured a job at a leading finance company, something that made all of us proud.
A New Battle: Marriage
Then came a challenge she had not expected: Marriage.
Some families hesitated. Some backed out. Those who showed interest had questions, doubts, concerns. Her parents brought the prospective groom’s family to my clinic. I remember spending time clarifying that epilepsy is treatable, that she was stable, and that she deserved a life partner who saw her, not her diagnosis.
Finally, she found someone who did.
She got married, shifted to another city, and for the first time in many years, she stopped coming for follow-up. Five years passed.
The Unexpected Reunion
One busy afternoon, during a packed OPD, a young couple walked in with a baby wrapped in a soft pastel blanket. I looked up, and froze for a moment.
It was her.
She smiled; confident, radiant, and unmistakably happy.
“Doctor, I’m doing very well,” she said, adjusting her baby on her lap.
“My life is peaceful, I’m working, I’m taking my medication regularly… and we came here today only to thank you.”
Her husband nodded with gratitude.
In that moment, the noise of the OPD faded out.
This....this....is the reward that every doctor quietly waits for.
Messages for the Public About Epilepsy
Her story is not just about medicine. It is about acceptance, resilience, and the power of support.
✅Here are a few things everyone should know:
1. Epilepsy is treatable. With proper medication, most people lead completely normal lives.
2. Stigma hurts more than seizures. Fear, misconceptions, and unnecessary hesitation can damage confidence and limit opportunities.
3. Children with epilepsy can study, excel, and build successful careers.
4. Marriage and parenthood are absolutely possible. With appropriate treatment and guidance, the future is bright.
5. Support matters. A calm teacher, an informed employer, an understanding partner, and a doctor who listens can change everything.
A Final Thought
Doctors rarely take credit for outcomes. We simply walk with our patients through their toughest moments. But occasionally, a patient returns, smiling, thriving, grateful, and reminds us why we do what we do.
Her journey began with fear and uncertainty.
It ended with hope, strength… and a tiny baby gurgling in her arms.
And that, for me, was the most beautiful chapter of all.
Dr Sudhir Kumar
Neurologist, Hyderabad
"My name's Hank. I'm 66. I deliver propane to homes. Rural routes, farms, folks off the grid. I fill their tanks, check connections, drive to the next house. Most customers just sign the slip, barely look up. I'm just the propane guy.
But last February, during that brutal cold snap, I noticed something at the Miller place.
Pulled up to fill their tank, gauge showed empty. Completely dry. In 15-degree weather.
I knocked on the door. Mrs. Miller answered, three kids bundled behind her in coats. Inside the house.
"Ma'am, your tank's bone dry. How long you been without heat?"
"Four days." Her voice was steady, but her hands shook. "Bill's due Friday. We're waiting on my husband's paycheck."
Four days. Three kids. Fifteen degrees.
"Ma'am, I'm filling it now."
"I can't pay until"
"I'll mark it as a delivery error. Computer glitch. Nobody'll know."
She started crying. "Why would you do this?"
"Because those kids are wearing coats inside."
I filled their tank. Checked the furnace. Made sure heat kicked on before I left.
Drove away thinking about what I'd seen. Kids doing homework in winter jackets. A mom choosing between heat and food.
Started paying attention different after that. The elderly veteran whose tank was at 10%, he was rationing, keeping one room warm. The single dad whose payment was two weeks late, he'd been burning firewood he couldn't really afford.
I started doing something I shouldn't. When I saw someone struggling, someone who'd run out, someone rationing heat—I'd add 50 gallons. Mark it as "meter calibration" or "pressure test residual."
Small amounts. Enough to get them through.
Did it eleven times that winter. My boss noticed the discrepancies. Called me in.
"Hank, we're showing extra gallons delivered but not billed."
I told him the truth. Everything.
He stared at me for a long time. Then said, "My daughter was a single mom once. Chose between heat and groceries every winter. I wished someone had helped her."
He didn't fire me. Instead, he created something, "Warm Hearts Emergency Fund." Customers could donate. We'd match it. Use it for families in crisis who couldn't afford propane.
But here's what broke me, Mrs. Miller came to our office in May. She'd gotten a better job, caught up on bills.
She handed me an envelope. Inside, $200.
"For the next family. The one you'll find in February, four days without heat, trying to be brave for their kids."
She grabbed my hands. "Hank, my youngest has asthma. Four more days in that cold... I don't know if..." She couldn't finish.
Last winter, the Warm Hearts Fund helped 23 families. Not with handouts, with heat when they had none. With dignity when they felt broken.
And here's the thing, other propane companies heard about it. Started their own programs. Now there are "emergency heat funds" in six states.
But the moment that destroyed me happened last month. Got a call to deliver to an address I recognized, the Miller place.
Mrs. Miller answered. "Hank! Come in, please."
Inside, warm, kids doing homework at the table, laughing. She handed me a check. Full payment, plus extra.
"For the fund. But also..." She pulled out a drawing her youngest had made. Stick figure man with a propane truck. Caption in crayon: "Mr. Hank, my hero."
"She asks about you every winter. 'Is Mr. Hank making sure people are warm?'"
I'm 66. I deliver propane to houses nobody notices.
But I learned this- Cold doesn't wait for paychecks. And no child should do homework in a winter coat inside their own home.
So if you deliver anything, oil, propane, firewood, and you see someone struggling, someone empty, someone rationing,
Find a way. Mark it wrong. Call your boss. Start a fund. Do something.
Because heat isn't a luxury. It's survival.
And the difference between freezing and living shouldn't be whether your paycheck arrived on time.
Be the reason someone stays warm."
.
Let this story reach more hearts....
.
Ai image is for Demonstration purpose only
.
Credit: Mary Nelson