Dealing With Death - And Life

29th of August - the day when my whole world came crashing down. Life as I knew it, would never ever return. The realization was shocking, the implications more so.

My mom had been having memory and verbal problems for about a month or so. Right at the onset we laughed it off as mere absent-mindedness. As the unusual behavior continued raising our level of concern, the next thing to be blamed were the arthritis meds that her new doc had prescribed. He was consulted and he put it down to old age (for the record, my mom is just 58) and stress. Two more weeks were spent changing medications, dealing with their side effects, waiting for them to take effect before changing them to deal with newer symptoms that seemed to be developing and increasing in intensity each day. Well, finally we consulted a neuro-physician. He examined her and suspected partial paralysis. Of course, he prescribed all tests. The test results came out on 29th.

The verdict was damning. It was a brain tumor. My father tried to put it in other terms and avoided the word "tumor" but thanks to my penchant of reading stuff that was none of my concern, I was sure he meant exactly that - TUMOR.

I googled the most damning words in the MRI report - "high grade glioma". The results were nothing short of ... well, shocking. High grade glioma turned out to be the type that had the worst prognosis. No actual treatment - only surgeries and medication to .. ahem .. delay the process, maybe by a few months. Best was one year. Worst, 3 months.

I looked up miracle cures and diets and having found many on the internet even considered buying them. After a shitload of research, I realized that brain tumor has NO cure. The type - high grade glioma had the least life expectancy.

I had never imagined my child growing up without his grandmother. In fact, I had often joked to my husband that once the child enters school, the first few years' home-tutoring would be taken care of by my mom.

I cried days and I cried nights. I have never actually felt so hopeless. My mom was decaying in front of my very eyes and I couldn't do much. So much pain because the most precious relation of my life would become history. I cried for days on end. I cried when my husband told me to be brave about it. I cried in the lap of my elder sister. I cried in the kitchen, in the bath, in sleep and when I woke up. The world, for me, had slowed down to a painfully slow speed, if not stopped.

Pain is a curious thing and so is life. You get used to both of them at a certain point. And you learn to hate the pain in your life and love the life amidst your pain. Life had a new meaning for me. My son, now seemed so much more precious and lovely. My mom's eccentricities and stubbornness so much more adorable and my dad's irreverence so much more lovable. I love you Lord. I love you life. I love you mom.