Reflections...

We got some more updates on the health of our friend S. He had been running a fever and met an accident while going to the ER to get that checked. That resulted in his spleen getting ruptured. He had to undergo an emergency operation for removal of his spleen, lost a lot of blood and was lucky to have gone to the ER when he did otherwise "anything could have happened" according to the surgeon who performed the surgery.

We visited him and his family on last Sunday. We couldn't do more but figured our presence might give them some comfort. S told J then that some cancerous cells had been found in his spleen when it was sent to pathology for further tests to figure out why was it swollen in the first place. His fever hadn't gone down either. Yesterday R, his wife, told us that chemotherapy has been started because he has lymphoma.

Needless to say, we are sad and shocked. Of course we have heard of people getting cancer before but it hits you harder when it is close to home. And we are numbed by the realization how close we came to losing S. His wife, a true optimist, said the accident was a blessing in disguise because otherwise they wouldn't have found out about the cancer. It seems the cancer is still in early stages. He is already on chemothrapy. It is making him sick and weak. He can barely talk because one of the side effects of one of the drugs is that it makes the patient short of breath. His dad is alone in India (mom is here) and doesn't know all this. He is diabetic and they haven't told him for the fear that he'll take it hard and might react badly. They don't want to take that risk since he is alone there.

Friends are rallying around them. But, no matter how many people visit, or stay with them or bring food and comfort, both of them have to go through their individual pain alone. He, of getting the devastating news that he has been struck by one of the most dreaded diseases. And she, of seeing someone she loves go through so much suffering, and facing the worst fears alone. On top of all this, they have to console their parents that everything is going to be alright. In a time like this, when you need all the support you can get, having to suck it up and saying to your parents "It's not a big deal. Look on the brighter side. Had I not been in that accident, we would never have caught this disease this early" takes a special kind of bravado. I don't think I could ever do that. I would just melt down in my own misery.

And they have small kids. Older son just turned 7 and the younger one is a year old. To face the possibility that they might have lost their father is so upsetting. I keep thinking how S and R must be feeling. We still don't know what his prognosis is. We are going to visit them again tomorrow - just to be with them. There is nothing more we can do except show them that we will always be there. We don't know what stage the cancer is in or if it is treatable or curable (yes, there is a difference). I wish I could ask the doctor all these questions myself until I get all the answers. I don't want to keep asking R because I don't want her to go through all this over and over. It must be upsetting to repeat all the details to all enquiring friends. S did say last time that people don't realize that he is sick and keep calling him incessantly to chat. Thankfully, we didn't make that mistake. We did try to call frequently, but we always called R and not S.

This kind of thing also makes you realize how frail life is. And that it could easily have been you. It makes you reflect and introspect and evaluate where do you stand. Will your family be able to survive such a blow? Will you fall apart or march along bravely facing everything life throws at you? Will you be alone or have friends by your side? What will happen to your kids? Your spouse? Will they miss you? How long? What about folks back home? Will you get a chance to say "Good Bye" and "I Love you"? What about your dreams and aspirations? To have a number put on the length of one's life is the cruelest thing that could happen to anyone. That is a sobering thought.