“These points weren’t tender before. Seems
like we should do a CT screening again”- these words struck me like a thunder
bolt. A multitude of memories flashed through my mind. The verandas at Medical
College, the radiation suit, the stem cell transplant room, the dark corners of
the car parking ground at Lakeshore…everything. Sigh! Is the crab back again?
Is the Lady fit enough to fight it again? I’m not really sure this time.
It was the beautiful healthy life free of
cancer that gave her hope then. A bubbly energy filled cutie being restricted
to the walls of a house is not a pleasant visual. But the very fact that I
still have my Amma to hold my hands is all that I care about. I know, she hates
not being able to walk around without those heavy braces to support her spine. I
know, she feels terrible watching Achan busy with the household chores all alone.
I know, she feels helpless missing travelling to Thrissur, my Better Half’s
stomping ground. Yet, is life beautiful? I think yes, it is.
So then? As usual, the theatrics. She stares
at me, scared. Oh come on, it’s nothing; I shake my head. Achan stares at me.
Oh dear! It’s going to be nothing; I shake my head. Hope my palpitations weren’t
loud enough to reach their ear drums.
The CT room. Done with the scan.
I rush to the Radiologist. Points a gun and
commands, “opine…now.”
Suspense filled moments. The heaviest drain
of adrenaline that I’ve had in recent times.
“Seems, we don’t have new lesions anywhere.”
Had she taken longer to utter this, she’d
have had to announce a code blue. How long can someone hold his breath?
“Hmmm. Nice. We’ll wait for the blood
reports then. Saved for now,” said the Oncologist.
A happy family rushes home.
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1 comment:
Aww such a touching post. It describes how a medic would feel when it comes to their own family. Good luck !
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