“How’s the recovery going?”, I asked. “Decent”, replied Ramesh. “Thank God for the critical illness plan! At least now, I can concentrate completely on my recovery. I don’t have to worry about the expenses incurred to maintain our lifestyle”. Just then, Ruhi came in with a cup of tea. “ How are you doing, Ruhi? I hope things are a little stable now”, I smiled and asked. “They are far better”, replied Ruhi. “When this thing first hit us, we did not know what we would do. The future was uncertain. But thanks to the critical illness care policy from Edelweiss Tokio Life, at least we have our noses above water now”, she continued.
Things today were a far cry from what they were when I had first visited Ramesh in the hospital a month back. The distraught look on his face was now replaced with hope. Those anxiety-ridden eyes were now shining with confidence. It’s strange how money can turn things around emotionally also. My grandmother used to say, ‘the things that money can do; only money can do’. I could now understand the complete meaning of those words. With financial support, Ramesh seemed to be doing well in his recovery.
“I go regularly for my physiotherapy. My physiotherapist is a good chap. He says I’m progressing well. I will be on my feet in perhaps a couple of months”, Ramesh continued. “What did your employers say?”, I asked sipping the tea slowly. It was pretty warm and I had to keep sipping it slowly to prevent my tongue from getting burnt. Ramesh, on the other hand, had already finished his tea. He always liked his tea piping hot. “I had to resign as they would not accept my request for a 6 month leave. After putting in 10 years of hard work, all the company gave me in my hour of need was a cold shoulder”, he smirked. “ Henceforth, I am going to love my work and not my company. I’ve learnt a lesson”, he continued.
I finished my tea and took leave, promising to be back soon. It was pretty heartening to see Ramesh recovering nicely.