Nerves of steel against emperor of maladies
The battle was long-drawn but she fought valiantly. A woman with nerves of steel and a heart of gold was pitched against the emperor of all maladies. The cancerous tentacles of the disease spread like wildfire, engulfing one organ after the other but my braveheart mother never complained a wee bit.
Once the diagnosis of the malignancy in one of her lungs was established, she neither went into denial nor into depression. She accepted the verdict of the Almighty sportingly. She tried to allay my anxiety by saying, “Every problem has a solution but a few don’t, and that’s life.”
The painful diagnostic procedures, side-effects of radiation and chemotherapy made me quiver and crumble but she endured the pain resolutely and chose to accept the repercussions of the treatment stoically. Every time she met the doctor, she would say, “I’m doing well doctor, how are you?” The doctor would smile and give her a thumbs-up sign before she left the chamber.
Every day brought with it a new challenge. Though subsequent CT scans showed signs of the tumour’s regression but her deteriorating health and waning strength were a cause of concern. As if the fast-spreading disease wasn’t enough to test her grit, Alzheimer’s also set in. But my mother confronted the vagaries of the incurable malady with extraordinary calm.
The fight against the invincible had reduced my mother into a difficult-torecognise feeble frame.
Chewing a morsel of food and taking a sip of water had become an uphill task. Brain-fade moments became frequent and we would try to interpret her incoherent talk according to our own perspectives.
Two years of a relentless battle, interspersed with tears and smiles, and she headed for her heavenly abode last month. With her passing away, I’m left with a huge vacuum and an equally huge cache of memories to make me laugh, cry and ponder round the clock.
I vividly remember that a few years ago when she was healthy, I used to visit her every week. When I would get up to take her leave, she would hold my hand and insist that I stay a little longer but I would say, “Sorry mom, I have to go. You must understand.”
And a few days ago, when she was gasping for breath in my lap, I was urging her to stay put but without uttering a word, she seemed to say, “Sorry son, I have to go. You must understand.”
May you rest in eternal peace, my dear mother!
ONCE THE DIAGNOSIS OF THE MALIGNANCY IN ONE OF HER LUNGS WAS ESTABLISHED, SHE NEITHER WENT INTO DENIAL NOR INTO DEPRESSION. SHE ACCEPTED THE VERDICT OF THE ALMIGHTY SPORTINGLY.