Do you remember the day when my journey began? Will you remember the end (of time) ?
This morning, when I was getting ready for work, I got a sms telling me that my cousin Prosperity has been diagnosed with cancer.
Prosperity is just a couple of years elder to me-- a vivacious 28 year old, brimming with life. You know, the kind that will have all the people at the party laughing at her jokes, the kind that elders frown upon for being too saucy, and the kind that you almost, always take an instant liking to? You wouldn't really believe it if you met her, that the greater part of her life has been a struggle. To come to terms with the fast-changing scenarios of her life. That beyond the sarcasm and the sharp tongue, is a person, who knows life hasn't really given her a very fair chance, and that she needs to fight, to stay afloat. Not that she has managed all the time, but heck, she hasn't been one to ever give up without a good fight.
Then last year she got married to her long-time boyfriend, and settled down. And just when you thought that her fairy tale had got off to a late and rather shaky start, she fell ill. She suffered a cerebral attack. Two, in fact. It robbed her of the one thing that people always associate with her. Litheness. Of mind and body.
When I went to meet her this time on my last visit home, it was painful to see the frail, waif-like figure lying on the hospital bed. She had lost her speech, so all she had was the language of her countenance. You could see how hard she was trying. To reach out to you. You could see her eyes scanning your face intently for some assurance, some hope. That this too was a nightmare. That she would get over it.
She did. She started speaking even before the therapy sessions had got fully underway. Things weren't the same. But she was hanging on. Like always.
And now this.
I wish I could call her and speak to her. I wish I could tell her that I am praying for her, and that I won't let anything happen to her. That this is a mistake and the doctors have goofed up on the reports. That she will wake up tomorrow and realise that this has been the greatest nightmare of all, but it is just a nightmare.
But I am a coward and I don't know what to say.
Prosperity is just a couple of years elder to me-- a vivacious 28 year old, brimming with life. You know, the kind that will have all the people at the party laughing at her jokes, the kind that elders frown upon for being too saucy, and the kind that you almost, always take an instant liking to? You wouldn't really believe it if you met her, that the greater part of her life has been a struggle. To come to terms with the fast-changing scenarios of her life. That beyond the sarcasm and the sharp tongue, is a person, who knows life hasn't really given her a very fair chance, and that she needs to fight, to stay afloat. Not that she has managed all the time, but heck, she hasn't been one to ever give up without a good fight.
Then last year she got married to her long-time boyfriend, and settled down. And just when you thought that her fairy tale had got off to a late and rather shaky start, she fell ill. She suffered a cerebral attack. Two, in fact. It robbed her of the one thing that people always associate with her. Litheness. Of mind and body.
When I went to meet her this time on my last visit home, it was painful to see the frail, waif-like figure lying on the hospital bed. She had lost her speech, so all she had was the language of her countenance. You could see how hard she was trying. To reach out to you. You could see her eyes scanning your face intently for some assurance, some hope. That this too was a nightmare. That she would get over it.
She did. She started speaking even before the therapy sessions had got fully underway. Things weren't the same. But she was hanging on. Like always.
And now this.
I wish I could call her and speak to her. I wish I could tell her that I am praying for her, and that I won't let anything happen to her. That this is a mistake and the doctors have goofed up on the reports. That she will wake up tomorrow and realise that this has been the greatest nightmare of all, but it is just a nightmare.
But I am a coward and I don't know what to say.
posted by P at 12:08 PM
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Subhalakshmi?
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