The Last week

By this time last year, papa never woke up..he just lay in the bed lifeless. I would sit next to him in the hope that he would wake up. But now he never opened his eyes. He never smiled. He never looked at me.The morphine patches kept papa drowsy the whole day.

Every now and then, me and my mother would moisten papa’s dry lips. His pain was unbearable.The pain killers were no help. Allopathy din't help. Homeopathy was not helping. Ayurveda was not helping. Nothing was working. The doctor advised morphine patches. Usually patients are advised to take oral morphine, or through injection.But papa was too weak to  swallow…and injection I din’t want. 

I used to buy these morphine patches from the hospital…I was giving my own father morphine. Yes, the addictive drug- Morphine. It is not a pain killer but keeps the patient drowsy all the time and  he becomes  oblivious to his pain. Papa now was unconscious all time.  I prayed every single moment , that his suffering should end….and I  wished that he fades  …I am sorry papa, what a bad bad baby I have been.

Love you PAPA!

Memories of my Future!

By the time October arrived, Papa would sleep ( or lay unconscious) for  as long as 22 hrs, barely opening his eyes now and then for few seconds. 

There was no sign of life, except for his belly moving up and down. No movement absolutely. And, for the few moments, he opened his yellow(ed) eyes.  I could see JAUNDICE had set in. The last stage of the process of his fading….soon papa will live in my memory. How bad it felt..no one can feel. And those who say, I understand- just lie.

All through, my father's fight with CANCER, the only respite I had, for the few seconds when papa opened his eyes, he always recognized everyone around him. Lots of my cousins, uncles, aunts and neighbors came to visit him almost everyday. He recognized all of the them. Even till his last breath. Cancer did not affect his memory. 

Talking about his memory, once my mother and brother had gone to bank for some work. At the counter, my mother handed over a cheque. The counter clerk, said- Aunty there is no balance in your account. My mother and brother were surprised, how is it possible that papa, did not realize that the account had no balance and he issued a cheque. They started walking back. It is impossible, if papa is saying than account will have balance" My brother had just concluded the sentence. When the clerk came calling from behind, i am SORRY madam, it was my mistake your account does have money.

At times, my mother would forget where she had kept her things, but papa always remembered. Even the smallest thing, he would tell you exactly where it has been kept.

My husband often says, that I derive pleasure from looking at my old and worn out things . He adds, that I spend a lot of my energy and time in storing them and then taking them out to just look at them. My version is, all the things I keep have memories behind them. And I DON’T like forgetting or parting with my things or anything that matters to me. They make me SMILE, and keep me attached to where i belong. They are the souvenirs of my past and help me to create a beautiful history for tomorrow.

During those 11 months, the memories me and my father made - his courage, his fighting spirit,  the things he said and did, - are my best treasures. These "memories" are much more precious than any valuables. Whatever I am today, it is because of him. He gave me the best gift of life…the ATTITUDE to CHANGE for good and only good. And nothing beats that!

Holding on to his memories, I am walking forward... still living in the time left behind.

Love you PAPA!

Chapter 4 - Visit to the hospital

Next day, 7 February 2012, we started early in the morning for the hospital. The hospital was in Parel and very far from the place, where I was staying. Besides I din’t wanted to be struck in the famous Mumbai traffic jam. We reached the hospital around 8:45am. It was early, still it was so crowded. gosh! whats wrong? why is it so crowded? Is it so crowded everyday, I wondered. Till few days ago, i rarely  heard the term “cancer" and barely came across any cancer patient(s). And today, I am standing in a room full of cancer patients. Why are they suffering from cancer? what is their fault? Is it their karma? I was thinking!.

Lost in my thoughts, I was trying to reason myself on behalf of those millions of people suffering from cancer and eventually dying sooner or later. As i struggled, i looked at my wrist watch. It was 930am, the counters were open for public dealing. I was the eleventh person in the queue. The lady at the counter asked me, what is the purpose of my visit? I wanted to scream and ask her why do people come to the cancer hospital?. Bringing my views to check,  i controlled, and said i am here for my father’s treatment. She said, deposit Rs10,000, and fill in the form(s), as she passed me a  bunch of papers. I said, what for? she said for the treatment. I said, the treatment hasn’t started. I haven’t met the doctor yet. She said this is the procedure. Reading my  expression(s), she suggested me to consult the doctor first.

Consult the doctor, I asked what is the difference between the two?. She said for consultation you have to just deposit Rs 1000 and meet the doctor. I took the form(s) and requested  for a pen. she flatly refused. I was shocked ( I like my Delhi, at least people are sensitive enough at a places like this). I asked papa to wait for me in the waiting lounge till I go outside and buy a pen. I filled the form(s), deposited the money, and went to two more counters( i don’t know for what, i was made to go from one counter to the other). After running from one counter to the other, finally i was given the file and a token to visit the doctor. It was 10am and i was informed, the doctor would not come before 1130am.Therefore i decided, to have a cup of coffee to restore my drained strength. Papa and I had coffee and settled ourselves  at the two seats in the back row of the waiting area.

230pm, papa’s name was called. We went inside, the doctor asked papa, his name and 1 or 2 more questions. He picked up the file, flipped through the pages, looked at papa and then shifted his gaze to me and then back to the file. He said, the treatment papa is receiving is the best and, I asked - he said  nothing. This is it !

Of course papa is getting the best treatment, and I don’t need a confirmation for that. I din’t know how to react. I mean a patient who is terminally ill,  travels 1500km, waits for 6hrs just sitting and not taking rest ( what he should be doing, actually),  and this is what he gets - 2 minutes and something we already know. The doctor din’t even had 5 minutes to spare. After seeing the file and knowing that the papa has very less time. He could have at least pretended to look concerned or may be talked for few more minutes and said some motivation words ( oh! i get it- i should have deposited 10, 000 rupees to get the doctor's attention and time, what a pity!, shameful!). But he din’t, he was one of those doctor who was just doing his job ( to get a fat paycheck at the end of the month, because he trapped those patients who had deposited the 10,000 rupees even before taking the treatment not wasting time on patients like papa who were just taking consultation) . 

I have always believed that people who are suffering and are in deep pain, may be will not heal by any medicine or treatment. But saying a few words of kindness will make them feel a lot better. Is being kind so difficult? Was I asking too much?  He was rude, Before coming here, I was so hopeful. And now, I was disappointed, I felt bad, I felt betrayed. I wanted to cry. But how can I? I have to be strong for my father, who had put his faith in me ( I am sorry, papa for letting you down, i wanted to say  but couldn't). Papa, realized this, he said,”I like Delhi better, I have you and "chutki beti”. Delhi is my home. I want to be home with my people. Let us go back！

We smiled( for each other)  and started walking towards the parking area.

Miss you Papa!