Keep your expectations minimal

“I understand you are tense. Sitting here is not productive. Get inside and attend class,” my friend admonished me. I was awaiting the results of our college’s Student Union Election. I had contested for the post of Cultural Secretary. I campaigned class to class, performing a small dance piece while my friend carried the tape recorder. Her job was to rewind the cassette before every class and play it on cue. “I can’t believe you are making me do this!” she said, while I laughed at her plight. That wasn’t all. I had even made her climb trees, sticking posters for my campaign. As the results were to be announced, all my classmates were present telling me they were confident of my victory. My friend was the only one who said, “I am not discouraging you, but I want you to be prepared for defeat too, just in case.” Well, I guess she was right. I got elected as the Assistant Cultural Secretary and not the Cultural Secretary. I walked up to the stage and as I held the mic, I saw my friend give me a thumbs up, while gesturing to me saying, “I’m right here with you.”

She always has her expectations low. She wouldn’t even mention her job offer until she gets it in writing. I would have broadcasted this sort of news right from my first interview. 

And now with Tilotama calling the shots, my friend has been the same. The oncologist suggested a PET Scan be done before her chemo session scheduled for December 9. I was busy shooting right through the first week of December. I was handling an assignment for a web show. I was super excited because it was my first experience working on one. I didn’t know whether it was right to sound excited while talking to my friend, who was all weak in the arms of Tilotama. I couldn’t bring myself to narrate many of those thrilling, challenging and even ill-judged moments worrying I’m not being sensitive to her current state. I kept thinking about what she said when I left for the shoot a week ago, just after her last chemo. “So, you are off again. Leaving me!”

I felt wounded. But I knew she was much worse. 

And when I got back just in time for her PET scan, I was nervous. I’m sure she was too. We both did not speak about it. I knew she was dreading it ten times more. Her entire family was. Her sister had flown down to Bengaluru from the US, just to hold my friend’s hand. I had to know what my friend was thinking.

“Are you all set for the scan?” I asked.

“Let’s see. Whatever. Let’s not keep our expectations too high,” she said.

“Isn’t there space for some hope? Why be negative? I don’t want you to lose hope,” my eyes were welling as I spoke these words. 

She hugged me and said, “You know me. It’s not that. Let’s just keep our expectations low so that we aren’t disappointed.”

I didn’t know whether she was right or wrong. We didn’t sleep well that night. She had her last meal at 2 am because she had to be on an empty stomach until the scan. Well, her meal contained one ‘idli’.

Initially, we were told that she mustn’t drink water as well. But wrong. She had to drink plenty of water so that she could empty her bladder just before the scan. She was given the contrast through the IV and was made to wait in that cold chamber for an hour. We weren’t allowed inside. While I was sipping my hot cup of tea outside, I couldn’t help but wonder whether her jacket was keeping her warm enough. The scan took all of 20 minutes. 

“Please do not give us the report. I want to hear the details from my oncologist,” my friend told the person at the department. 

We were back in the ward. Her chemo session began. The doctor walked in after 3 hours. “The PET is clean, but…”

There is always a ‘but’ right? My friend and I looked at each other. “There is an uptake in two places - one at the pelvis and one near the throat. I am not sure if we need a biopsy. I think it’s mostly due to some infection and the inflammation is the reason for the uptake. Fistula could be the reason for the uptake in the pelvis region. The throat…”

“No biopsy doctor!” my friend cut in. “If you are attributing it to some infection. I have always had a ‘tonsil’ issue,” she added.

There was silence.

The doctor opted for an ultrasound, which would work as a baseline and said that he’d monitor it again after a week. “Do not worry about the uptake yet. It can’t be that the other bad fellows are out, while 2-3 stay back. Either all are out or all are in,” he said. 

Shouldn’t that be reassuring? It wasn’t for me. And I didn’t want to mention this to her. I walked out of the ward and called my parents. “Why do things happen with ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’? Why can’t God give us these small mercies of a ‘clean PET’?” I cried in pain. My parents cried along before trying to comfort me.

“Reason to celebrate,” I told my friend as I wiped my tears and walked back into the ward. Her sister concurred and we planned to buy a cake and raise a toast.

The next day, my friend said, “Now, do you realise why I say we need to keep our expectations low?” I broke down. I couldn’t stop. She just hugged me tight. And we stood there drawing comfort from each other. I don’t know for how long.