SWEET CHILD O’ MINE
Denial
Anger
Bargaining
Depression
Acceptance.
We in medical college are taught about human anatomy, psychology, physiology etc, among other one of them is the ability to get over the loss of patients. We are trained to behave like doctors, we cannot afford to act as concerned human beings; we are told that we are here to do our job, our job i.e. to save lives. Our concern should be to cure patients of their diseases and ailments trying to avoid any such bonding with the patients. That’s how we can be objective. But sometimes you come at a point when you are standing at crossroads whether to act as doctors or as human beings. We are taught about this theory of five stages of death, the sequence one goes through during the process of death. This is usually applied to terminally ill patients but soon this idea or this impractical theory would be applied on me.
As a third year interns, we are assigned clinic duties, and how much I dreaded it I’ve to do five hours of clinical work everyday. This is when I first met him, he came in the exam room bubbling with energy, his eyes had this sparkle of hidden mischief. The way he smiled. I knew he was one of those mischievous and noisy kids who run amok in the hospital screaming and shrieking. But he was none of those. He was happy and content and had this glimpse of satisfaction in his eyes. Most ten years old are not like that but he was different, it seemed to me the only person worried in the room was his mother. I looked up his chart and note that he was here for his regular checkup. He smiled and chatted throughout the exam, it was difficult for me to convince him to stop talking, to put the thermometer in his mouth. The only abnormality, I found was a growth in his neck. I suspected mumps and ran some tests. I told his worried mother there was nothing to worry about. But I had a hunch that somewhere something was very wrong.
The tests results were negative for mumps, during their next visit I told them about the findings, I thought may be it was a swelling, but the growth had protruded. I ran some more tests, during the next few weeks we bonded more and more, despite our age difference. We shared so many things, love for cartoons, playing pranks, comic books, annoying people etc. I never felt so free and close to anyone in my life, people say friendship needs time but our was based on bonding.
After running three consecutive blood tests, I asked them to refer the case to my supervisor and see whether he come with any possible suggestions. He suggested that Taj should be admitted and we should biopsy his lymph cells that scared me. I hoped and hoped for the best, but god always plays games with you. Taj was diagnosed with lymphoma, a cancerous growth in his lymph nodes. If treated in early stages it can be cured, but he had progressed to stage 3, there was nothing we can do, other than give him medications to relieve pain. He had at the most three months to live, when I delivered this news, his mother cried and cried while he was like a rock, unnerved, still smiling telling me atleast now I don’t have to worry about my holiday’s homework.
While Taj accepted the reality and was going through painful radiation and chemotherapy, I was in total denial. I still couldn’t accept the fact that he was dying. Why him? Why not someone else? There are old people who’ve lived their lives, why not chose them? Why this child? This lovely child, who still to begin the journey of life? Why god has to be so cruel? Why god, why?
I was angry with life, the hard realities of life. We are taught about medicines, how to diagnose diseases, but why can’t we evert the impossible, why can’t we save the ones whom we love, and care about?
I was depressed; each and every day, I was crying my eyes out while praying to the almighty to change this poor child’s fate, asking him to be reasonable. Begging him to show mercy. But like Taj, god was one tough nut to crack.
Taj got sicker day by day. Cancer, chemo and radiation the trio made a deadly combination and were taking toll on this kid, in two months he was reduced from a healthy kid to a human skeleton, but the smile. The smile never faded.
I was scared to meet him to see his face, he had no hair on hid head, that blonde haired boy was now bald, he wasn’t able to eat, and was on saline drip. He was coughing out blood all the time, how could I face him and assure him that everything was alright. I visited him on his birthday and gifted him the Tintin’s collection. I knew he wouldn’t be able to finish even one comic, as death lurked upon him, but he was beaming with joy promising me, that he will give me the collection as soon as he finishes. I held his hand and cried like a baby, a tear trickled down his cheek, he consoled me by saying, ‘It’s good, I’m going early Didi, even god needs company and furthermore I wouldn’t have to suffer from the miseries of the world. I held hid hand and read him Tin tin’s adventures. As the dawn broke, my little angel was gone, my pillar of strength had vanished, he will never come back. But what he taught me I would always remember, ‘ “love for others and live for others’, he taught me to live carefree. That was my Taj, that was ‘Sweet child o’ mine’.
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