“Did you see that old lady with a child selling corn? It pains me to see these old people struggling and children suffering,” my friend lamented as I was busy looking for the right shop to buy a handbag. She quickly shoved two hundred-rupee notes in my hand and asked me to give it to her. “Why don’t you walk up to her and give her the money?” I asked, warmed by her gesture. “You do it. You converse well. She will feel nice too, I’m sure,” she replied.
I walked up to the old lady, gave her the money and said, “My friend standing near that shop in that corner asked me to give this to you.” She smiled to give me some corn. I shook my head and said, “No! We don’t want to buy. We just want to give this to you.” She blessed me and I ran to my friend, who was silently chanting a prayer for that old lady.
From then to now, children and senior citizens always hold a special place in her heart.
As we walked into the hospital for her chemo session, I said, “You just have one more to go. And then, we are going to paint this town red!” She slowly turned to me and muttered, “I was wondering if it’s wise to ask the doctor whether this AVD regimen is sufficient for these last 4 sessions.”
I knew where this was coming from. All of us have been fearing a secondary cancer. Also, when her lymph nodes, which are an integral part of the immune system, are compromised, the looming threat is a ‘relapse’.
When she asked the doctor, he said, “We have given five AVDs in all. I might consider catch-up doses of Brentux. Let’s see.”
Her sister was there too. The three of us played Monopoly (the card game) inside the ward. “Just when I thought, it was going to be over…,” my friend commented, almost reflecting what was on my mind. “But this is an immunotherapy drug. It wouldn’t affect as much as chemo,” her sister said, holding her hand.
Her sister decided to have her husband and child come over to Bengaluru for a month so that my friend could enjoy her time with the kid. The four-year-old’s arrival coincided with my friend’s last chemo session. We had all grown attached to the baby. She didn’t let go of me. “Don’t go to the hospital, aunty,” she stressed, hugging me tight. We promised to be back soon to play with her.
The last chemo session was done with the oncologist promising that he would start the Brentux treatment in two weeks. “Post the first Brentux dose, the others would be given in a gap of 3 weeks. I don’t expect any drastic side effects. Technically, your chemo is done. You can start roaming around,” he said with a hearty laugh.
She has been on GCSF or Peg Filgrastim injection between every chemo session to boost her blood count. “You know baby, excluding the Peg, I have taken 28 GCSF injections,” she remarked. She had already taken 2 Peg injections.
“You can take another Peg injection in 24 hours. Post that, I expect no event as such,” assured the doctor. By then, her rashes had gradually disappeared and she was moving her muscles a bit, dancing and playing with her niece.
The last chemo and the Peg did show their menacing strengths as my friend was cowering in pain, while in bed. I was playing with the child in the hall. I saw the door open and my friend dragging her feet along in pain, just to watch her niece giggle and dance. I was wondering what a world of difference a child can do in one’s life.
“Baby, did you see the little child in the hospital in that chemo ward? I have no reason to complain, right?” she mentioned, overcome with a pang of guilt. “We need to do something,” she continued. I was telling her about the trust in the hospital that collects funds to provide nutritional snack packages for children undergoing chemo. “Connect me to her. I want to pay for that,” she immediately said.
My friend’s father had wanted to fund the entire chemotherapy of a patient or two. I had accompanied him to speak with the admin staff of the hospital. That’s when I learnt about the need for funds for nutrition packages for children. My friend spoke to the concerned person and transferred the funds too. “I want to do this as long as I have some money,” she added.
The best part is, she is not the person who'd display her act of generosity on social media. This marketing person’s actions speak louder than words. I thought of the many times I took to social media to tom-tom about having sponsored lunch for blind children. I was squirming in regret.
Time flew with the child keeping my friend on her toes. “She wants me to go to the play area with her. I just can’t walk till there. I don’t want my niece to remember me like this,” she cried. “Children’s memories are short-lived. The next time she sees you, you’ll be playing tennis with her. This memory will overlap and erase the old,” I said. “I want my daughter to learn to be compassionate and she will do that seeing you. You are teaching her a life lesson,” said her sister.
The little one fought with her, competed with her, and yet would wake up in the morning and look for her aunt. I’m not good with kids. But I found the child in me when I was with her. My friend’s sister and I ensured we took my friend and her niece to the park downstairs to play for a bit. “Look at how fast I can run!” the child said, delighted to showcase her talent to her aunt. We ran, we built ant hills with stones and we played in the water too.
“You know, my pool noodle got stuck in the railing of the swimming pool. I was stuck. My aunt jumped inside and she saved me,” the child shrieked as she excitedly narrated the tale to me. I was stunned at my friend’s grit to indulge in a dance party with the munchkin, her will to battle her physical limitations and jump into the pool to rescue the little girl, and her resolve to push her pain aside and solve puzzles with the tiny tot.
“Be careful,” I warned her. “Don’t keep reminding me that I’m a patient. I know my body,” she retorted.
“My fingers and toes are aching. So are my calf muscles,” my friend complained. Is she over-exerting herself with the child? “I think my muscles are getting activated after ages,” she answered, reading my mind. I religiously massaged her hands and legs every night, hoping this is not a new complication to deal with.
It was time for the first round of Brentux when my friend complained of joint pain. “Let’s have the rheumatologist examine you once,” said the doctor. “I know that rheumatologist. She was to examine me when I was admitted during an emergency in January, but she was down with COVID,” my friend declared. “You seem to know every doctor here. We must consider making you the mascot of our hospital,” the oncologist joked.
As he left, my friend said, “This doctor didn’t even use the word ‘ambassador’, he said ‘mascot’. But I somehow like this onco. He is funny and compassionate.” I chuckled and nodded in acknowledgment.
We still have 2 more Brentux doses and then we can look at Fistula surgery or we can schedule the surgery between the 2nd and the 3rd Brentux, the doctor had said before leaving. “What if the doctor later says, we’ll administer 5 doses of Brentux in all. He knows how to persuade me in his own style. He starts with a smaller number and then adds more,” she said. Well, she did have a point. We decided to think about the surgery later.
After the first dose of Brentux, she fortunately seemed okay. She continued to complain about her joint pain. The rheumatologist had asked her to monitor the pain, which could be chemo-induced, while prescribing Calcium tablet - Shelcal - HD (one everyday to strengthen her bones) and Pilomax for her dry eyes. The only side effect of Brentux is neutropenia, which refers to lowering of blood count.
We were constantly on edge worrying if she would suddenly be hit with fever and chills like she always did when her counts dropped. She slowly gathered courage to go for a drive one day.
I was back home with my folks when she called to say she was in the car with her niece heading to buy ice cream for takeaway. “Guess what flavour I’m choosing,” she said. I felt like a miserable mother, who missed watching her baby’s first steps. I swallowed the misery and responded, “No surprises there. Black Currant I’m sure.”
She was quick to spot my emotion. She went home and said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. My niece insisted and I went along. My first proper outing is going to be with you, I promise.”
She kept her promise. We had lunch at one of the five-star hotels of Bengaluru. My friend, her parents, her niece, her sister, sister’s husband and in-laws were present for the lunch buffet. “I am going to stay here for 3 full hours and eat my heart’s fill,” she said as she breathed in the outside air for the first time in 7 whole months here.
She started from desserts, went on to snacks, then main course, desserts again, and finally a cup of masala chai. She has to still be away from cut fruits and raw veggies. Yet, this turned out to be a wonderful start indeed.
And there! It was time to say bye to her sister, brother-in-law and niece as they were set for their return to the US. “I want you to stay with me for a long time. I’m going to miss the child dearly. I want you by my side,” she mourned. “I won’t go anywhere,” I promised.
As they boarded the flight, she said, “I’m becoming strong now. See, I didn’t cry!” I hugged her. Though I don’t fancy children, this niece sure proved to be the healing touch for my friend.
