I still remember when my mother threw up grayish-black liquid one night. I immediately knew this was far from normal, but had to wait until morning to meet a good doctor who would set things straight. Dad took mom in for a consultation while I headed off to work and my brother to school. The doctor found that my mom’s intestines were intertwined. They had to admit her, more so since the gray liquid vomit was a sign of her body expelling poison. They had to insert a pipe through her nostrils to take out any remaining toxins. This was no small change for mom, who had all her life stayed away from needles and hospitals and led a healthy enough life.
Our family is independent when it comes to medicine dealing with coughs, colds, and fevers. We prefer to rely on standard good advice, thereby staying out of hospitals for common ailments. Natural home remedies have helped time and again. Suffice to say mom was horrified when she was hospitalized and was worried about what was going to become of her. She cried quite often because she was scared of leaving her family in any way. Dad called me up the next morning. In a feeble voice, he said ‘CANCER’. He went on to say, ‘It is ovarian cancer and at an advanced stage.’ Doctor recommendation had us traveling to Pune where they had outstanding tumor removal surgeons. Before long, mom was in one of the best hospitals there.
Our whole family, including relatives, were either in shock or denial that this was even happening. None of us knew something this serious could happen overnight to someone otherwise hale and hearty. Her medical reports were normal enough to push the surgery forward. However, things started to go wrong. The doctor seemed to be treating her like some sort of lab rat for experimental cancer medication. She would come home post-chemotherapy howling with pain, even going as far as hitting her head against the wall. We could just watch helplessly, it was all we could do. Consoling her was out the question and explaining the medical process became a foreign concept. This had to go on for a while, we had no other options, until the day when the doctor administered some morphine and she vomited blood. Dad took her away from that hospital without caring about letting the doctors know; it is a good thing he did. The Tata Memorial Cancer Centre was in our line of sight.
In only a month’s time, mom was merely skin and bones. She lacked the stamina even to sit upright. I knew this weakness was more than something physical. She was mentally and emotionally broken, and the pain did little to encourage her to fight back. We were all glad that TMC was doing a better job for mom than that disaster they called a hospital in Pune. She was on the path to recovery and despite the pain, the chemo was showing progress. She was hospitalized under the best care at TMC and returned home with a hopeful gleam in her eye that I thought had long since been extinguished. Sadly, this was short-lived. Another night I noticed a small bruise near her waist leaking fluids. It refused to stop dripping and smelled like faeces. I immediately dialed the TMC doctor and he urged us to rush her to the hospital. By morning, the bruise had grown and more of the same fluid was flowing from it.
The trip from Lonavala to Mumbai was a stressful one. We had our fingers crossed that this should not be a relapse or a parallel condition. I walked into the TMC emergency room with my mother. The doctor gave her the once over. She was alone in there. The doctor came out and asked for the man of the house. I encouraged him to tell me whatever it was. What he said destroyed something inside me. “Eight days at the most.” I swallowed my sorrow in a fraction of a second and, putting on my calm face, asked the doctor not to tell mom about this. The ailment that was going to take my mom away from her family and me was Fistula. Apparently, her intestine had burst open and the bodily fluids sought a way out and found an exit at the bruise. This bruise just kept getting bigger every day as if something was eating it from the inside and growing as a result.
The doctors suggested a liquid diet with surgery to shut the opening and create a new false opening for the faeces to pass normally. The surgery, however, gave mom a 5% chance of survival. My first comment when I heard this was a ringing, “No! I’d rather prefer she meet her end in 8 days with us by her side than suffer another surgery with all the pain that can bring to her body. She has already lost precious time with needles, treatments, chemo, and hospitals. It is time she spends her last days with those who love her.”
Dad wanted to try the surgery. He held on to that 5% like his life depended on it. But the pain would have been overwhelming and if mom passed away from it, her last sight will not have been that of her family. I became mom’s caretaker, nurse, doctor, and even mother of sorts. I made sure she ate everything she wanted and liked without her coming to learn that she had only 8 days left to live. The pain would make its timely return at night and she would cry herself through it. This took out any hope of rest after an already exhausting day. There was nothing we could do to ease her pain. We were glad she made it past the 8-day mark, fighting cancer for a whole month after that. Midnight, May 5, 2008, mom finally said goodbye to the world.
My Two Cents
- My mom suffered from pains in her lower waist region for almost a year but never mentioned anything to us. She thought it was a pull or a cramp due to household work, and did not want to worry the family. I wish she did not ignore it like she did. I wish I had spotted a sign.
- Six months before the diagnosis, she suffered from high fever twice, and the doctor suggested she get blood tests done. But she would return from the lab without giving samples. Why didn’t we force her to take those tests?
- She gradually lost weight until the diagnosis came; she did not follow any fitness regimen. Like most people, we found her weight loss admirable, especially since she did little to work off the calories.
- There never really is a solid cause for cancer. We learned from the doctor that ovarian cancer reveals itself only in the final stages. My mom underwent an early menopause which is one of the causes of ovarian cancer. Using talcum powder to keep genitals fragrant and dry is another.
The doctors also suggested that every woman should undergo annual cancer screening tests after the age of 35 whether or not they experience any of the symptoms.
I take even better care of my own life ever since this episode. On a philosophical note, I often told myself that it is best to let go. I took the decision to end my mom’s life and not prolong her pain because I thought it was best for her instead of banking on that measly 5% survival chance.
I wanted her agony to end. Perhaps the surgery may have worked – it is a probability-guilt I will carry with me all the rest of my days – and mom may have been alright afterward. Having a person with a critical condition takes a toll on you emotionally and physically. When she left us and went on to a better place, the first thing I remember doing was thanking god for ending her pain so she could finally be at peace.
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