The all important question - also the one with no answers - WHY??? A question unanswered after 2 sudden shocks in the recent past - Dad & Mum. History repeats itself.

The next one - WHY HIM?? A person who was careful about getting his tests done on time and more importantly making sure he followed doctor's instructions. Then again, who goes through an MRI or expects the worst for a simple headache??? Surgery over - doctor's opinion post surgery - 90% tumour removed - long term not so good, ok for the short term. Who is to define the short and long term here? Statistics is all we have to go by.

All lives directly and not so directly connected gone topsy turvy - in every sense of the phrase - emotionally, physically, mentally and financially. In and out of hospitals - seizures, sodium levels fluctuating, numbness etc...

Through all of these things, his spirits are up. Suddenly everyone is spending a lot more time researching on the web looking at information on the possibilities, talking to doctors and others and everyone is in the garb of a doctor. Doctor visits become more frequent. Blood tests become routine. The worst part is that there is nothing one can do to alleviate the pain he is going through and also be there just in case any of the other immediate care takers need a break.

Believe me, it is no fun when people call to find out what the situation is. There is really nothing great to write home about. Yes, one understands it is people who care and all of that but then..... Strangely our visits to Chennai increased and we would just drive down even if it was for a weekend. Spend as much time as one could with him since the writing was on the wall. But the most admirable aspect of him was the fact that he made the effort to go out and do stuff he wanted to and be part of an activity. For the most part he succeeded. I was surprised to hear that when Vicky was in Chennai, they were out for dinner. When I asked who all were there, he said Bhaski, Kaki, Kutti payya etc. Was not sure what emotions came over then.

Not an acknowledgement, but it would be unfair to Kaki if her strength in handling the situation was not mentioned. Everytime I spoke to Kaki either on the phone or in person, she would be steady and strong in her thoughts and actions. Lest he or the boys get demoralised. Patience has been one of her virtues.

October 2007 -
Bhaski and Rethas drive to Bangalore for a concert. Night driving. Next day he had a faint headache- could be attributed to driving, lack of sleep, the hereditary migraine - any number of simple normal reasons. But, he goes back and the ever meticulous guy that he was, gets all the checks done. All "appear" normal. He has a blackout in the office and when further tests are conducted, the tumor shows up. Lime size, they said. Immediate surgery required. I was in Chennai before he went in for the surgery. After which the usual biopsy was to be done and the final verdict to be declared. Through all of this, having faced the dreaded "CANCER" thrice before and having researched on the net and speaking to doctors, the future was very discouraging.
The will to live and the spirit to fight helps us reconcile and not crumble and give it the best we have. Again the Swarna family rallies around. Kinda getting good at this!

My flight landed at Chennai in the early hours of June 29th 2008. The terminal was packed with people arriving from various places - the US, Europe, Japan etc. I noted that air travel had become increasingly democratic...

That thought brought in another one - cancer too was a great equalizer, knowing no bounds in its democratic zeal to strike at anyone, anywhere, at anytime. In the fall of 2007, had I asked any member of my extended family if they were aware of "Glioblastoma Multiformae", the likely answer would have been - "who's in the movie? what kind of movie is it? action? comedy?"

A horror flick. All the blood and gore that Hollywood could muster was no match for the horrors that had unfolded over the past eight months. The thing of it was, as common as the cancer experience was across the world, each individual one was unique in its agony and told the story of unmitigated devastation. A personalized horror flick.

The Last Breath

The incessant beep of the blood-oxygen sensor overcame the feeble voice I heard on the other end of the phone. A feeling of dread swept over me and I realized that a world made smaller by our ever present communications devices was still very, very vast indeed. I was listening to the electronic sounds of my uncle's last breath, amplified in its clinical detachment and digital certainty.

A valiant battle was coming to an end, and I was hearing it unfold in real time. This was the ultimate reality show, and I had front row seats to it. It made me really, really angry. It was about 9:30 AM on Thursday, June 26th 2008.