BEYOND CONTROL IS BEYOND REDEMPTION

Exactly three months ago, my dearest thing on earth bid goodbye to me. Being sick for a long time, we became prepared to face the worst truth in the world which people do not accept easily. That life is uncertain proved for me and my beloved like a mathematical theory that comes to a single answer whatever the approach you make. She started feeling unwell at the beginning of April 2016 but being brought up in a very difficult situation did not heed to her sicknesses. She just thought that her sicknesses were like the common cold or some small headache that she never attends to. Usually, her small headaches and stomach pains would subside in an hour or two or in a day or two. As she was comfortable, I did not give any damn too. But when I recalled later, I saw her dwindling interest in household chores and other private activities. That could be because age was what I assumed. At 44, not many people lose interest in many things though they become a little sluggish. When I recall her diminishing interest in so many things and increasing interest in sitting inside the alter room, I feel so unhappy. It was those days she was suffering from a dreaded disease and I could have given her better company. By June 2016, she already consumed a lot of common medicines from the nearest hospital. I saw no improvement in her health whatsoever. But being an honest teacher and a religious-minded person, she kept going to classes and even attended workshops. She kept prostrating inside the alter room as usual.

However, by July 2016, her condition deteriorated. She lost her appetite completely and could not eat anything. It was then that her sisters thought she should be taken to Hospital in Guwahati, Assam, India. We took a bus up to Samdrup Jongkhar and met her siblings and in-laws who accompanied us to Dispur Hospital (we always go to this hospital for private treatment) in Assam. On the hot summer days, we put them up in the hospital and had her checked for everything. The pending results after three days of waiting gave us the shock of life. She has been attacked by a carcinogen in the lungs. We panicked. We could not talk. We cried in silence. We could not believe what the doctors said. A day later, we were told to visit another hospital (Ayursundra) not far away to meet an oncologist. We made an appointment through the hospital and met the recommended doctor who again took blood samples from my wife for further confirmation. I could not face the doctor who told me that her case is in stage three B and that we should visit Cancer Hospital in Delhi or Mumbai. My wife, a naturally strong lady consoled me instead of me consoling her. She knows me when I panic and she knows how to bring me to normalcy. Eighteen years of our marriage perhaps gave her an idea of when and how to put my nerves down. She told me to live for our daughters. She told me that death is ultimate for every one of us but at different times. Today, when I recall her advice, I cry a lot in silence if I am in a crowd and loud if I am alone.

We did not however lose our hopes. We arranged a referral through the government to Kolkata. They call it Tata Medical Centre and you see only cancer patients in this hospital. By the middle of August 2016, we started her treatment at the Medical Centre. Our schedule to visit the hospital was long, just two days of continuous visits in three weeks. In between, we stayed in a rented room which had cooking facilities and we ate whatever we liked. But the waiting periods were too long and we had time to roam the city (which she was not willing). Thanks to her siblings, we were never alone except during the last week of her chemotherapy when we were alone only for more than a week.

As we waited till December 2016, we saw many things surrounding the cancer patients from Bhutan. A minimum of thirty to forty patients would always be there taking treatment from the hospital. We saw a thirty-year-old monk being carried back home in a mercury box. We saw a good number of patients being given deadlines for their survival. We also saw one or two patients being discharged but returning to the hospital in three to four months. There were children, middle-aged, veterans, and old ones as patients in and around the hospital. But now, as I meet some of the caregivers like me on the way or in the towns, I hear most of them have expired. Mine too is expired is what I tell them and we make an uncomfortable face to talk further. My wife was not old, neither was the protocol officer with Foreign Ministry nor that guy with a big wound in the stomach from Haa. A class nine student of Nangkor Central School was not that old too. As I write this, my eyes are getting wet but that’s not to make you readers (if any) cry. It is an emotion that is charging me. I get a feeling like “if we have to die so young, why we should be born in the first place.”

Seeing people die, I cried in seclusion inside the hospital toilets and in my room in the rented apartment. I felt I was the weakest guy uselessly weighing ninety kilograms because I saw some attendants simply very strong enough to face the death of their patients and envied their stoicism. When I heard about the protocol officer’s demise I could not control it because we stayed in the same building on separate floors and he would often come to us or we would go down to see him as we got time. I cried like a hungry baby. Today, I know he is no more, but in that one month, we spent together I feel like we have known each other for a long time. He was the nephew of my friends both on my mother’s and father’s side and also the son of my Boss who expired a few years ago which made a lot of difference in our attachments. When he left Kolkata, he brought by expired passport and promised to renew it but before he could do that, he expired. He was such a strong (mentally) man that he did not mind dying. I admire his courage and recall many times what my late wife used to tell me “Tshering Sir is strong. He talks like he has a home after death, you should be like him being a male.” Two months later his wife called me to say that my documents have been found in his bag and that it carried some cash. She intended to return the cash to me. But I think a thousand bucks was too less for a friend so dear. I told her not to worry about what she found in his bag and to keep herself without any guilt. I felt so ashamed to have not attended his funeral or any other rituals. But I just hope that he would forgive me since I was in the same boat as his family members were then. My wife’s health was deteriorating and I could not think of leaving her behind even for a second. 

A few days ago, I met another attendant who has limping limbs. He used to attend to a lung patient who could have crossed just fifty. I asked him if his patient is alive and I my eyes could not resist when I heard if died in January 2017. I went to my place and had a hearty cry. The old guy was otherwise quite healthy and could tolerate chemotherapy without any problem.

My wife took four cycles of injection (chemotherapy) of the same content. Pains subsided for some time after the first cycle and we continued the second doze. Evaluation after the second cycle showed improvement in the size of the wound (size decreased by 8 percent) and we felt so happy that we came to Bhutan to see our children since we had three weeks until the next cycle. However, we collapsed after the fourth cycle when we were told that the wound has increased by 32 percent. She cried beyond consolation. I did my part inside the toilet of our apartment and I am still doing it today. It is really sad. No one can stop this emotion. Right after the evaluation after the fourth cycle, the Oncologists decided to change her medicine. We had the new dose of chemotherapy injection, which was cheap and short time-consuming. The earlier injection would last eight hours but the latest one lasted just two hours. The first night after the new injection was fine, but the next day, she could not resist the pain and would not agree to visit the hospital fearing pain killer injection which she believed would spoil other vital organs. She could not eat, drink or sleep the whole night and the day – I saw her in excruciating pain and visited the toilet to cry out loud. I wished if could share the pain – which of course is not possible at all. On the third day after the injection, she told me everything she had to tell me. She wanted me to marry a young beautiful girl of my choice but with a rider that I would not let our daughters suffer. She told me to take charge of all her properties (whatever small things she had) shared by her parents or she had obtained herself over the last few years in service. She told me to take her body to Deorali Gonpa in Sikkim and cremate it there with the help of Gom Truelku whom she considered her Lama.  She was grateful that I have been with her through the bad times although I would not join her in good times. I continuously cried for the next few days comprehending her words. I never understood her so much. She was a wonderful human being. In pain, we visited the hospital and on the way, she told me not to collapse in case she returns dead from inside the treatment room. She just wanted me to be strong which I was not. That day I waited outside thinking a thousand things. She came out after two hours and pretended to be alright.

A few days later, her elder sister joined us with a local tea-like person known for miracles to cure cancers. I cannot object to what her siblings do because their intention to cure my wife cannot be false. I know them well. They help each other. So, after three days and four nights of struggle, my wife started to feel better and that is when the Terda joined us and performed magic based on the egg. I don’t know how this does happen; he showed the disease of my wife being taken inside the egg. There were two types of hair-like structures and he told us to stop chemotherapy since the disease is already out. I know this is an illusion but I think I could not prove the man wrong. And so, we sent the Terra ahead of us while we waited down in Kolkata for private reasons and to stabilize my wife’s health which suddenly improved. She ate better than in earlier days, she slept better and that’s how we planned to give up chemotherapy. Even if she was not improving, she already decided that she would choose to die than continue with the treatment that killed her several times.

She expired at 2329 hours on 19^th March 2009 at her sister’s home in Denchi two and half months after we returned from Kolkata. I would continue our ordeal after reaching Bhutan but for now, my eyes are not allowing me to do so. So, I will continue the story when my eyes are strong. This is an abrupt end, please don’t mind.

To keep her in my mind, I will continue this story as and when I get the energy to continue... there are n-number of incidences of sadness, tough day decisions, and support rendered to us by many people.

I lost her to a disease that had no cure but I guess it is everyone that has to follow her in turn.