I will not die- Diary
of a cancer fighter
Preface- During
my stint at the famed Tata Memorial Cancer Hospital, I came across hundreds of
men and women suffering from cancer, landing in the hospital with hope in their
eyes, incurable disease in their body and complete trust in the healing power
of the hospital. I was astounded at the strength of the human mind and the
courage displayed by these patients even when the crab of cancer was furiously
eating away their bodies and life. They walked tall even if the body was
disfigured and the hair loss was total. They laughed, ate in the canteen with
gusto and went about discussing reports of primaries and secondaries with their
doctors with total non-chalance. The doctors who saw the suffering of their
patients with no hope in sight, showed tremendous dedication and compassion,
tirelessly working to give them a disease free period of hope, happiness,
albeit for a short time and sometimes even life.
Some pages
from a diary…………
Day 1
My nerves
were raw as hell, my heart pumped forceful beats into my throat, my hands and
feet were washed with sweat as I waited for the doctor to call me inside the
consulting room. Tentatively I looked around. There were scores of women
sitting beside me on a long bench that stretched from one end of the
rectangular hall to the other. Most of them seemed to be chatting away, barely
aware of their heads covered with colored scarves hiding the bald pate or the
bare skin over their eyes where once were the brows. A few of them seemed
nervous, just like me. Obviously the first time in hospital, carrying the
distinct red file, just like me. My vision was blurring against the sweat that
trickled off my forehead. My name was called. Will I be sentenced or God will
pardon me so that I can bring up my little girls and get them happily married?
Day 5
I had a
disturbed sleep, bad dreams and palpitations alternately kept me awake. Had I
done something wrong? I kept looking back in time to find out why I was singled
out or if it was to be then why not a little later in life when most of my
responsibilities as a wife and mother would be on the wane. The doctor smiled a
little but the pain in her eyes was evident. I was to be sentenced then! “It’s
just the beginning, you will do just fine” her voice was confident but to me it
came in heavy hammer blows completely crushing whatever tiny ray of hope I had
been praying for. She held my hand and asked me to be positive. “Only those
with a strong will and mind do best” she smiled genuinely, “help me to help
you”. She saw hope but all I could see was my world blasting into million
smithereens with complete darkness. In a flash my life of 39 years flashed
before me. My responsibilities of bringing up my girls, caring for my family,
loving my husband even more than he did, creating relationships, all came to a
screeching halt. I collapsed. I wept
copious tears as my doctor gently held my hand. “You and I will fight this
together”. Her words brought little comfort.
Day6
I hadn’t
slept whole night. The nightmare was real and no amount of screaming could wish
it away. The Gods seemed to be sleeping or my pleas were falling on deaf ears.
My husband held me tightly and asked me not to be afraid. I will do anything to get you out of this, he
said. His brave words brought little comfort.
I don’t want the girls to know till we decide our options. I was trying
to protect the innocent lives from the hell that was awaiting us.
Day 10
“Surgery and
chemotherapy will cure you” she smiled again giving me hope. By now my tears
had dried up. It was time to confront reality. I agreed, trying not to show my
fear, my anxiety, and my sheer hopelessness. Surely she knows best. It was the
moment of truth. I prepared myself to fight for my life. My husband smiled at
me holding my hands in his wet palms. He was nervous as hell too. I have to put
up a brave front to give him courage, I decided.
Day12
My close
ones gathered around me, each one in a different state of reaction but each one
praying only for me. So much of love and prayers can’t go waste. I felt hopeful
for the first time and ready.
Day 13
“No, I will
not allow you to sell that plot, it’s for my daughters and not to be wasted on
me” I was crying hysterically as my husband patiently explained the means to
raise money for surgery and chemo. I need you, was all he said. I cursed my
body and my destiny. I was losing that ray again. He won and we left for the
hospital.
Day 15
The large
room is full of strange equipment and smells of spirit. A bright huge lamp
shines above the table where I am sleeping, blinding me. My doctor with bright
eyes (I can see only her eyes, rest of her face is behind a mask) smiles at me
holding my hand assuring me that all will be fine. I want to believe her. A
needle is poked, some routine questions later I drift off into darkness.
Day 20
My girls are
sitting on my bed asking me innocent questions. I smile and hug them. I am
amazed at what a simple smile can do. They both happily smile back convinced
that the worst is firmly behind them and their mother is new again. My body is
rid of the menace. I am ready to go home. Only one third of the ordeal is over
but I feel strong enough to face the rest. Anything that will keep me alive
till my girls grow up, I promise myself.
Day 30
First chemo
cycle. I have nausea but I am determined. I have to go through this fire to
come out unscathed. The medicine burned my hand, the needle had to be inserted
many times. “You have thin veins” blamed the nurse. I seem to have many things
that can go wrong, I bemused. Exhausted and drained I come home with the next
date.
Day……………
I get up one
morning and to my horror, notice a thick bunch of hair on my pillow. My
counselor has warned me but the actual event takes the breath out of my lungs.
I am reminded of the multi-colored scarves I had seen on my first visit. Tears
come back in torrents but I hold back and compose. It’s a small price to pay.
Hair will come back. My head gets covered but the brow area looks ghastly.
Girls are shocked and retreat to their room, crying. He smoothens their
anxiety, but I can feel their horror. We know they have to face the truth. Soon
I prepare myself for the next hospital visit.
Day…..
My life
presently seems to be just hospital, injections, hope from doctors and mind
numbing bills. I have forgotten to shop for vegetables and groceries and
clothes. Things that made up my life were suddenly out of reach for me. Going
down for a kilo of potatoes or a bunch of coriander or to the tailor for the
girls’ dresses was not even registered in my brain in the past. I just did it.
Now I was jailed behind a mask, my white blood cells unable to protect me from
my routine. The tears have dried up but the heart bleeds. I want this to end
but I will not give up, I tell myself. This too shall pass!
Day……….
The
radiation therapy is less tiring than chemo but the nausea won’t go. My bald
pate is darkening daily and I look like I’ve had a smart military cut. I have
thrown the scarf away. My appetite has returned in a small way and most of all
my hope is back. I have survived the worst, I’ll survive the rest. In normal
phases I even go buy vegetables and grocery and drop the girls to school. Oh!
What an ultimate pleasure it is to feel normal again.
Day……
It’s been
quite a few days and the effect of therapy is showing. One night he tenderly
started caressing my new hair. I was hungry too but scared of my mutilated
body.”I don’t look good anymore” I said gently without trying to hurt him. I
could see the pain but he quietly and gently made me feel like a beautiful
woman again completely forgetting the dirty scar and the ravages of radiation.
I cried later as I nestled in his arms. “I am sorry’I said. “You are beautiful”
he said and went off to sleep.
Day……….
“Your scans
and reports are normal, your treatment is over” she smiled at me once again
holding my hands tenderly in a warm grip. My ears burned with pleasure as the
words I was dying (oops I’ll never say this again) to hear reached my heart.
Tears rolled in torrents but this time they were tears of relief, of hope, of
happiness, of having lived to see the light at the other end of the tunnel .I
looked at my husband. For the first time I could see the relief flow out
through his eyes.
Day………
It’s been
four years since the tsunami struck my home. I have made it this far, I know I
will go further. Occasionally the sleeping giant wakes up like a dark cloud in
the form of fear, pulling me away from my courage. I fight back tooth and nail
shooing it away. I must drive away any intruder that threatens to spoil the
happiness of my loved ones. I will do it, no matter what!
(The Author
wishes to express great respect and admiration for “courage under fire” shown
by cancer patients known to her and those across the world who are fighting
this battle ‘tooth and nail’)
