“I feel sick in my stomach, weak in my knees, and the choking in my throat as I write this. But someone told me that I have a gift for expression, so I want to pen down a part of my journey to make you and your loved ones aware of what terrible suffering exists in this world. Not that you don’t know about cancer already. Not that I didn’t know about it already, but you don’t feel it unless you go through it or see someone close to you going through it.
My dad, as I knew him before the dawn of 2017, was a very different person. Handsome; to say the least. Strong, bold, daring, ambitious, would be a few of his other personality traits. Just a few. He used to tell us that when he was in his late 20s, he was the most dashing man you’d see around (a little self-obsessed, I know), but after seeing his pictures, I didn’t doubt it for a moment! He is someone who stood up for himself and built his own empire. His daring stories and life lessons never ceased to amaze me. But he had a major flaw. Something you would accept because ‘Everyone does it’. But that something has ruined his life today. That something is – Alcohol.
He started drinking when he was 25. A true Punjabi, who would sit with friends and other male members of the family, and wouldn’t stop until they’d finish the bottle of whisky, or until they were drunk ‘enough’. And let me tell you what, Punjabis don’t drink wine or beer. They want whisky. Only Whisky. The bottle that marks more than 40% volume of alcohol. He loved drinking, almost every day when he was still young. And quite regularly even after he crossed 40. He didn’t like to be told that he shouldn’t drink and that it’s harmful. Nobody, not even his wife or his mother had the right to tell him that. He took his own decisions and knew what he was doing.
When he was around 52 years old, he was diagnosed with Cirrhosis of the liver. The doctors said that if he drinks now, its poison for him. He was asked to take some medicines, and stop drinking. But he quit for a bit and then started again. I moved away for work and studies abroad and wasn’t always aware as to how much he’s drinking and whether he’s taking his medicines regularly. We could obviously see that he’s not the way he used to be. He had lost weight and wasn’t very active anymore. When I came home last summer for two months, I was surprised to see that he still wanted to drink. I knew I couldn’t ask him to stop because he would shoo me away. I had to see him do that to himself, completely helpless. Nobody said anything to him. People only advised him to stop, but he wouldn’t listen to anybody. I remember seeing some weird rashes on his legs before I left for Paris again last August. Red rashes, growing like fungus all over his legs. I asked him to see a doctor, but he never took me seriously.
By November, he started having regular fever. After a blood test, the doctors were shocked to see the results. After an MRI and some other tests, he was finally diagnosed with final stage liver Cancer. Two large tumors in the liver, and many smaller ones spreading to other parts of the body. I was in Paris back then, miles away from him and my family, absolutely clueless as to how to take this news in. I had submissions coming up. For a few weak moments, I wanted to leave everything and go home. The tickets were really expensive, and my visa renewal was in the process. There wasn’t just one problem. I kept my calm through it, and booked tickets for February, hoping he would be alright. But every day he was growing weaker. Some days he would talk to me over a video call. I asked him how he spent his days. He told me he could walk for a bit in the balcony, watched TV for a bit, talk to the relatives who came to visit him, and otherwise slept for most part of the day. I felt terrible that I couldn’t be there to take him to the hospital for the tests, or help my mom through the day. Each day was difficult to pass. So I decided not to think about it, carrying on with my days. But some news or the other about his weakness would come from back home, and I would feel weak. Soon, it turned out that he had jaundice too.
The doctors suggested chemotherapy. But it was a big risk. The liver wasn’t prepared enough to take it, and it could have caused liver failure, they said. There was no other option, so they went ahead with it. The chemotherapy left him extremely weak. But the worst was yet to come.
I was happy that he was at least able to talk and walk normally, and I would get to spend some time with him in February. I was supposed to be there on the 10th of February. Meanwhile, back home, I was told that he was given some chemotherapy medicines. He had taken it for a few days, but before I reached, he stopped taking even that, because jaundice had increased, and they couldn’t give him any medicines for that or for cancer. He had strict instructions for food too. Less salt, no red chilli, no oil/ghee or fried food. Only juices and boiled food. As the…
