ONE LAST THING TO DO BEATING THE CANCER

I looked at the mirror. Yeah its fine, no one will notice. It’s just a loosening of the cheek muscles now, and the hair. Ummm it looks a bit too thick isn’t it? Should I put a bindi? Naah over dressed. The kajal that has been my signature all these years, I sought confidence in its cool whisper against my eyes. Yes I was ready to face the world. Stepping out of my dresser, a half confident smile on my lips and a flutter beneath my breast, I was smothered by a pair of arms that crushed, me just as it has through good bad and ugly of my life. Yes I was now ready to step out.

3 years I had spent vacillating between why me, I can’t take this anymore, I will beat it even if it’s the last thing I do. The last thing that I will ever do. Such a mundane phrase, but so much finality in it. Such a strong phrase of determination, a statement of intent, and yet for a person like me such a huge question mark of what is beyond the last thing I do. When the last thing I do stares you in the eye, then you suddenly remember so many things that are left on your bucket list. And 3 years I spent adding and subtracting on my bucket list amidst the pain and tears, amidst small victories and annoying losses. Every time the light shined at the end of the tunnel I crossed my fingers and added to the list. Every time pain clouded the end of the tunnel, the list was whittled a wee bit. Yes 3 years of dancing with this devil that had threatened to overwhelm my life and bring it to that one last thing.

I am Pratibha (Name Change) a 31 year old woman working in one of India’s largest banks, and it is the story of how my life crashed one fine day, broke my dreams, broke my body and near broke my spirit, and then how I survived. Married to my college beau, after dating him for 8 long years, both of us working in our dream jobs, he is a vice president in an ad agency, me a senior manager in a bank, life seemed ready for us to enjoy it. Our own niche a 3 BHK penthouse flat in Gurgaon was our shelter from the maddening crowd. The eye of our social circle, late night movies and long drives, rocking clubbing and lazy weekends were our life after the stress in our corporate lives. I was just changing jobs, and there was a routine medical test to be done before the joining, and once I was through with the USG, the doctor asked me to meet him. While that is not SOP, I met him and he suggested that I visit my gynecologist as the USG suggested a cyst in my ovaries. I immediately met up and was suggested to go through a standard procedure to remove it. Every one suggested it should be a lil more than a hop skip and jump, and I went mad got myself admitted for the procedure. They give me an anesthetic and I passed out. When I woke I was told that the operation was a successful and the reliefs on my husband’s face reassured me. Little did I know that my world had already crashed.

Routine post operative check up that while removing the cysts, some part had remained and it was malignant, Metastasizing into my ovaries. I was horrified to know that it was spreading into my uterus and I would have to undergo chemotherapy at the earliest. My world, my dreams, my hopes started crumbling in front of my eyes. As my husband held my hands and tears trickled down my eyes, I could feel my dreams crumble. The faces of my dream children, a boy with a shock of hair just like my husband or a girl with dainty dimples just like mine, slowly dissolved in my tears. I could feel tightness in my belly as if the unborn children were suffocating with the poison inside. I felt unclean, dangerous for myself, my children my husband. I couldn’t bear to look at Him, knowing how much he loved children, how much we were planning for a baby just these last few months. Would he blame me for this? Would our love survive this? Was I good enough for him? Would he……? No I couldn’t speculate more. He held my hands strong, and brought me home, made me rest and made coffee for both of us, extra strong. He smiled at me, kissed my forehead and then I broke-why me? Why me when I didn’t have any vices, didn’t drink didn’t smoke, ate right, worked out, did all that was told off me. Why me when I believed in God, prayed to him diligently, did His good work, through charity and more. Why me? He held my hands and just like today crushed me within himself, enveloping me within himself just as I wanted to cocoon his baby within me, but now would never be able to. With every sob of mine I felt betrayed, and I felt I was betraying him, but he held me tight, unspeaking yet resolute.

Friends and family came round, bonded and when I could just sit and cry at this injustice they held me up. But what let me survive was that crushing hug. We started on a chemotherapy program. He was there smiling, encouraging, and as my body was wracked by the toxins used to kill the cancer, he made love to me, unrelenting, not with my body, but my mind. His eyes touched me through my worst pain, his eyes found me beautiful when my hair fell, and so did my weight. I felt ugly but he told me I was his and beautiful. He made me survive. When I was ready to give up he made me promise him I would beat this, and reminded me every day promises made to him were made not to be broken.

I beat it. I am stronger now, not because I beat the disease, but because I learnt to make new dreams. I am going back to work today, and in the evening we are going to bring home an angel we are adopting, one with a dimple. I am Pratibha (Name Change) and this is my story of that one last thing to do- beating the cancer and living.