Friends

I was detected with cancer last year.

I would be fatigued for days and felt that a well-recommended tonic would do the trick. I carried a mild fever all through ramzaan and felt that some anti-biotics would help. I lost seven kgs in a single month and attributed this to Ramzaan. I could not want to eat beyond the second nivaala during iftaar and ascribed this to a change in meal timings.

I lost seven kgs again the following month. A doctor recommended a CT scan which showed swollen lymph nodes. He said it could be TB and then added, well, it could also be cancer. A four-day biopsy in hospital nailed it. It was the Big C, after all.

When somebody hears ‘cancer’ it is usually something terrible that happens to others. The kind of word that makes knees drain, the solar plexus sink and a little voice inside you say ‘We regret to announce that we have called in 50 per cent of your life.’

The mood at home transformed. There was a latent realisation that the family would possibly be shrunk by one. People stopped smiling. The emperor of maladies was at war.

The first of my six chemotherapy cycles began in January 2012. The injections took about eight hours; following a gap of 12 hours, medicines took another hour. The cycle by itself was not painful; the depression that followed thereafter made me want to retreat into a hole and escape the world.

There were two alternatives: yield or fight back.

I selected the latter.

I decided to fight cancer through an unusual strategy.

A number of cancer patients go into denial mode – ‘maybe the reports were wrong and maybe I don’t quite have cancer.’ I accepted that I had cancer, spoke openly about it and concluded that the most effective way to fight it was by looking it eyeball-to-eyeball until the Big C blinked.

A number of cancer patients make all kinds of polite noises about why they are unwell. I decided that I would tell people (including my daughters aged nine and six) the truth if they asked me what was wrong. Over time, I brought cancer down to the commonplace. It was one of the ‘yes, by the way’ things I had and big deal.

A number of cancer patients become just that … patients. They lie in bed all day, escape active life and go into a hole. I decided to work harder (from home) than I had when I was well, fill every idling minute with the productive.

A number of cancer patients request others to pray for them. I decided that I would (in addition to asking others) perform the tasbeeh (wa heza marizto fa hova yashfi – I am unwell and only You can heal) as if I was standing in the presence of Allah and speaking with him.

A number of cancer patients don’t know what is next going to happen to them. I kept telling people ‘Don’t worry, I will recover.’

Some unexpected things happened as a result. My aunt from Bangalore, a cancer survivor, kept reinforcing on phone that cancer could be beaten. I marketed a number of pending hydraulic designs, enhancing revenues. I grew more focused at work; what would take me days now took hours. I grew the business in 2011-12, the slowdown notwithstanding. I gained four kgs in February.

It is seven months since my treatment commenced and even though the last CT scan indicated that the cancer had been eradicated from nodes but one (with the prospect that it can come back at any time in life), I feel I have been reborn.

In more ways than one: earlier I used to stress about my work (which could well have been the problem), I now take every moment as it comes. Earlier I used to worry about what would happen in the future, I realize that life can pass by in an instant. Earlier, I used to put things away to be done later, I realize that the most effective therapy revolves around ‘just do it’. Earlier, I would be concerned about how I projected myself to the world, whereas I realize that nothing of this really matters.

So why am I writing all this?

With one express reason: there could be a number from those who read this who are either cancer patients or cancer survivors or relatives/friends of those who have been touched by cancer. I feel that money and medicines can do only so much; what most of the cancer-affected (patients and relatives) need is confidence therapy.

So you may consider this as my humble service to the world: I intend to start a Mumineen Cancer Support Group across the world; should any one want to speak merely to lighten oneself, I will make myself available on phone or email. Should anyone want to volunteer as a patient listener and motivator, I would be grateful if you could write to me and I could you in touch with people on the other side. My Mumineen Cancer Support Group will bring patients/families of patients in touch with counselor and motivators.

Cancer can be beaten - in the mind first - and this Mumineen Cancer Support Group is my small initiative (with Huzurala’s dua mubarak) to prove just that.

We can all help fight cancer by telling people who have it that it can indeed be fought.

My number is +91 98304 70110. my email address is haideryhyd@gmail.com. Please feel free to write or call.

Regards

Mukarram vadnagarwala, kolkata