I spent a sleepless night. Just like I had 21 years ago on the even of papa's operation. One again I carry the burden of a decision the consequences of which a loved one will have to bear. This is something no one can understand as it is deeply personal and would probably be miffed at by one and all. But I need to share this as it is perhaps my way of seeking absolution or rather getting one step further on the road of forgiving myself and I am likely to carry this to my grave. Forgiving yourself for any hurt caused to another is quasi impossible. But I as we are about to start a battle for life, I feel it is important to be brutally honest.
For one year and even more we tried desperately to find out why R was ill. He was losing weight, had intermittent fever and cold sweats. We went though every investigations imaginable and never could get a satisfying diagnosis. Today when I look at the symptoms of Hodgkin's or any other lymphoma they stare at me with a wicked sneer almost saying: Got you! And they did, maybe also because of my petrifying fear of the word Cancer! So what we were doing is looking for all other causes possible. In my pathetic defence I can say that R's lymphomas were well hidden and not in the usual more visible places. And while we ran this scary 'treasure' hunt R was fading away. Finally we got the results and because of its delay he has B cell lymphoma which is probably 2nd stage or more.
I spent the night going through the last year and trying to see whether I had missed out on something; whether there had been some indication that we failed to understand. Whether we could have caught it earlier. It is no point on crying on spilled milk. But I know I will carry this all along my life and each time I look at R.
I also realised in the course of my white night that though R has been with me all the time, I always see him with the eyes of my heart. Yesterday evening as we sat in the drawing room listening to Tom, one of our volunteers play some haunting classical music on R's piano that I caught a glimpse of him as he really has become. For the first time I saw the 75 kilo man weigh 61 kilo. It was a rude shock and a new guilt choked me. Could I have stopped this? And then the dreaded: Oh my God, he will loose more after his chemo. I have to master the art of seeing him as with my heart and not as he is. It would kill me.
And then the whole guilt trip all over again.
It has to stop.
For one year and even more we tried desperately to find out why R was ill. He was losing weight, had intermittent fever and cold sweats. We went though every investigations imaginable and never could get a satisfying diagnosis. Today when I look at the symptoms of Hodgkin's or any other lymphoma they stare at me with a wicked sneer almost saying: Got you! And they did, maybe also because of my petrifying fear of the word Cancer! So what we were doing is looking for all other causes possible. In my pathetic defence I can say that R's lymphomas were well hidden and not in the usual more visible places. And while we ran this scary 'treasure' hunt R was fading away. Finally we got the results and because of its delay he has B cell lymphoma which is probably 2nd stage or more.
I spent the night going through the last year and trying to see whether I had missed out on something; whether there had been some indication that we failed to understand. Whether we could have caught it earlier. It is no point on crying on spilled milk. But I know I will carry this all along my life and each time I look at R.
I also realised in the course of my white night that though R has been with me all the time, I always see him with the eyes of my heart. Yesterday evening as we sat in the drawing room listening to Tom, one of our volunteers play some haunting classical music on R's piano that I caught a glimpse of him as he really has become. For the first time I saw the 75 kilo man weigh 61 kilo. It was a rude shock and a new guilt choked me. Could I have stopped this? And then the dreaded: Oh my God, he will loose more after his chemo. I have to master the art of seeing him as with my heart and not as he is. It would kill me.
And then the whole guilt trip all over again.
It has to stop.
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