god does listen... story about my mom's fight with the killer disease

GOD DOES LISTEN…
(STORY OF A SOLDIER MOM)

Dear reader….this is the story by a soldier about another... rather an unexpected kind ….read on and decide who is a better soldier amongst the two…..

No, I do not know the date of birth of my mom…and I never felt the need to know because it did not matter. What mattered was that she was always there when I needed her. My mom has been a lady of immense inner strength. The way she brought us up, will take at least a thousand pages to describe. Those were trying times indeed. Born in a family which had just migrated from Pakistan, she did not get an opportunity to do much of schooling. Marriages were early in those days. So was hers. Education was resumed much later in her life. While in eighth standard, I remember preparing notes for her secondary examination. We often discussed appearing for the Senior School Certificate examination together. She had missed out on education but not on worldly wisdom. She had limited resources at hand but abundant dreams ..one of her dreams was to see me as an Army Officer. She was the one who assured us of a bright future when everything seemed unachievable. I was always amazed at her energy and faith. It was me who lacked confidence and I was afraid that I would not be able to live up to her expectations. Her strength and the courage of conviction dawned upon me when I finally boarded the train to join the National Defence Academy, Khadakwasla. While under training at the academy, her rather emotionally heavy letters were a source of inspiration, always asking me to carry on. She seemed to be living her dream through me. Mothers’ day and Fathers’ day celebration was not even heard of in the small town to which I belong. I never ever sent her a birthday card because I somehow managed to forget the mutually decided date of 1st June year after year . I never bothered to even find out her age. That never occurred to me because she was always there for me.

As time passed by, mom had not been keeping good health for months. All of us including her were aware of the problem. Stones in the gall bladder… a disorder not very uncommon, was the known reason, with surgery as the only option left for us. But like all earthly mortals she was scared to go under the scalpel. A major operation was a big cause of concern and all relatives and friends suggested alternate remedies. From yoga to naturo therapy to homeopathy, all was given a chance. She had her own reasons to avoid the surgery. First it was my marriage, then my younger brother’s and the sister’s. Then there were new borns-my son, brother’s daughter and sister’s son. The surgery kept on getting postponed on an indefinite timeline.

October 2005.I was posted at the Indian Military Academy and was under the initial probation period where one is tested in various instructional disciplines before finally being appointed as the Company commander. Meanwhile my mother finally agreed upon the surgery , as it was getting worse. The operation got over rather peacefully without complications and we even joked about the size and number of stones in the gall bladder . We even made fun about the fact that she had told the doctor that her surgery was to be performed on the day of the final test of her son . On being asked by the doctor what her son was doing …even the doctor had a hearty laugh , when told that the student in question was a Major in the Army. On the final day just before the interview by the Commandant I got a call from my brother. His voice seemed to be distant and heavy. I could not make out anything because all he asked me was to come over. The call surprised me as she was recovering rather well from the surgery. I called my father , he too sounded grim and all he said was to come over .No details were given to me and my worries overshadowed me during the Commandant’s interview. I rushed home to find a rather large-ish gathering of relatives all having red teary eyes. I was taken by surprise .“Mom does not have much time left”, was all that my brother could tell me. What could have gone wrong? I wondered as I had looked her up in the hospital just last evening. She had been bright and cheerful and she even narrated the joke about my ‘final test’. She seemed to be in a much better state after removal of all those foreign bodies and the damaged gall bladder. “She has Cancer”. It took so long to sink in! It was something I was not prepared to hear. All I had was a vague idea about the killer disease and I knew that it always revealed itself in the last stages thereby giving no chance to the victim. My heart sank. In the thirty fifth year of my life, I was made aware of her age…. not about how old she was ….but how much more she is going to live .For once I wondered about her age. At least the year of her birth was known. Fifty five is no age to die. Suddenly the reality struck me. I realized how casual I had been with my mom. We all had taken her presence for granted. She was an endless source of emotional support. Her tears had resolved many a conflict that were the norm in any family. Her dreams of seeing me as an officer, her single mindedness of giving the best to the children, all her sacrifices, emotional outbursts when our wives claimed priority rights over us, her love for our children and so on and on. … Yes! I cried for the first time in uniform. It was a silent cry; cry for mercy and hope for the lady who mattered the world to me.

How much time do we have? Does she know? Was all I could ask? No one answered and I realized that being the eldest son, I was expected to take charge of the situation. The soldier in me was alive again. It was the most difficult mission of my life. The chilly frozen blizzards of the glacier, the fiery storms of the desert, the shattering sound of the bullets flying just inches above the head and the boom of the guns and explosion of the shells bursting at close quarters seemed so insignificant in the situation where I almost knew when my mother would die. No one in this world is brave enough to sustain this shock. There was gloom and there was helplessness all around me. It was as if we were collectively responsible for the forthcoming death of my mom. I grew by years in the minutes that passed before I finally spoke. “Can I get a glass of water and a cup of tea?”, gave a reason to all present to look up and do something that would show their genuine concern.
“Where are the medical test documents?” The biopsy report lay cold on the centre table looking like a death certificate… a document which all soldiers are reluctantly familiar with. Stage III C, no time left at all. It had spread all over her abdominal wall. In a chilly moment so many medical terms looked so familiar. A CT scan and second opinion from a specialist looked like two formalities left.

After the preliminaries, I went to meet her in the hospital. She seemed happy to see me. I could fake a smile but that was all. She could sense that I was tensed. All my life I had been so close to her. Apple of her eye, the responsible elder son, who had done her proud always-by doing well in studies and fulfilling her dream by putting on an officers’ uniform. She had loved me so much and I loved her so very much. The reality seemed unreal and impossible for a while. We talked about the date of her discharge from the hospital and about her appetite, her sleep and things which seemed like a normal conversation. She seemed fragile and so very innocent and helpless for the first time. Like a prisoner who is still unaware of the death sentence, she chatted about my life at the Indian Military Academy and about my wife and son. It was battle I was about to lose, the thought itself was frightening. I left the room and went to meet the doctor… to find hope… to somehow extend her chances of survival… to have him say that his diagnosis and the biopsy reports were wrong. I wanted him to tell a lie that would have brought back life in me. None came. It was reality and I hated it. My mom could not die. As a soldier ,death was no stranger to me but death of someone so close had always seemed impossible.

23 October 2005 CT scan and the second opinion only made the matters worse… “All you have is about three months. Caking has taken place and I don’t think there is a chance”.
All our hopes were shattered. New Delhi, AIIMS, Rajiv Gandhi Hospital, Army Hospital…were the new references that we carried home from the specialist’s office. He had been a specialist at the AIIMS himself. This fact broke our hopes further. It was like re- confirming the death sentence. “Keep her happy.” the doctor’s parting sentence haunted me all the way back and in all the days that followed. What all does she like? We knew little because we had never bothered to notice. She had lived such a simple, non demanding life. She never even demanded her rights and the affection due to her. She believed in loving without reciprocation. I cursed myself for all the harsh things that I had ever said to her. No No No… how could she go away right in the middle of her and our lives. Three months were all that we had. What to do next? Was a question which had no satisfactory answer. How could we keep her happy when all of us were going to be sad all the time? Three months…. I wish days were longer now ,there was no time, just no time.

I left for New Delhi the next day. In the train I tried to keep my mind away from the issue but no other thoughts ever came. I was struck with a feeling of self pity and great sorrow. After discussing the entire case with the super specialists in the Army Hospital, I asked my father to bring my mom to New Delhi. ‘Special Investigation of some fluid in the outer lung membrane’ was the reason given to her by all of us. It might be tuberculosis. In the waiting room of the Oncology department of the Army Hospital,I felt I had to tell her and we had to fight it together, so I broke the bad news to her. She took it bravely. Looked sad but composed. We did not talk much. She did not ask the details… I never wanted to share anything more. She tried to behave her best when my father joined us for a meal in the hospital’s canteen. Inevitability of the fate only brought silence between the three of us. I hated everything. Hated the disease, hated God, and hated myself and everyone around who had a smile on his face.

03 November 2005. I was sitting in the chair next to her bed, in the chemotherapy centre. I prayed sincerely for the first time in my life. I wished God was free that day to listen to my prayers. I tried to look confident and for all four hours I did not leave her hand even once. I pretended to watch the daily ( silly) soap that was on the TV… the soldier in me told me to be strong but the son in me was really weak, overcharged with emotions. Three months is just no time at all… the certainty of the clock bogged me down. I was scared to look at the ‘seconds’ hand. It matched with my heart beat and frightened me with its pace. Because that was the pace at which I was losing my mom. Lying on the bed she could sense the helplessness that was so evident on my face. The look in her eyes told me to be strong. She was calm and she made meaningful conversation with the other patients in the room and their relatives who were present. The after effects of chemotherapy were devastating… body ache of extreme order followed by spells of vomiting and just no sleep for days in a row. I accompanied her for the next cycle of chemo. She seemed much stronger now, at least mentally. The fact that she was battling the worst of the enemy, made the fight so special. She continued to suffer the side affects and lost her hair too. The only positive effect of treatment was that the deadline of three months was never discussed.

03 January 06 After three cycles of chemo, mom was again on the operating table where most of the affected parts were surgically removed. The lady who was shy of big hospitals and complicated diseases was facing both. The way she conducted herself after the surgery was an example of extreme courage and fortitude for even a hardened infantry man like me. She was at her best. Happy, relaxed, concerned about all of us and not bothered about what lied ahead. She joked with the doctors and the nursing staff and gave support and assurance to the other patients in the ward. She was on her own in mere four days and on 12th January we were on the train bound for Dehradun, my hometown and also the place of posting. She was coming back home with 32 metal stitches on her abdomen and loads of hope and confidence. The three chemos that followed brought more physical pain and she lost even her eye brows and eye lashes. She refused to wear a wig or any make up to hide the distortion as she adorned a new confidence and faith in the worthiness of her existence. She attended the local Gurudwara functions regularly. Her presence was a must at all family get togethers and she seemed to be enjoying being the centre of attraction and concern of all. Silently she gave hope, wisdom and strength to all of us. She made us forget the trauma that the three month deadline had given us.

Today …16 August 2009 She had conquered .The recovery process has been long…. very long. But not even once she seemed to be scared or helpless. Even the doctors at the Army Hospital were surprised at her inner strength, will power and confidence. It is almost four years now. She has occasional headaches and pain in the limbs and sleeplessness but there is no fear. We have a nagging doubt of re- occurance of the disease but she has none. She has travelled length and breadth of the country and even fulfilled her dream of ‘air travel before I die’ when my parents visited me in the beautiful north eastern state, where I am Commanding my battalion. My mom made it a point to be with me when I was promoted and assumed command. During the course of her treatment I came across a number of cancer patients… some as brave as her but most of them either too scared or who had already given up on life. Some of them died in this duration and some will not survive for long. In this long drawn battle, I have been a mere spectator, I have learnt a lot of valuable lessons. I have discovered a new strength, a mission, motivation and the will to fight on eternally. The never say die attitude of my mother has been an example that I have quoted in many a fora.

I am a proud son of a strong mother who has been the finest military instructor for me. And yes! I do believe that God has enough time to spare for people who have a little time to spare for him.