“ok, so I have some swelling in my neck. probably just too many drinks the previous night (Friday). damn, maybe not. ok I’ll get it checked out on Monday morning.” That’s precisely how my week unfolded. A weekend of bar-hopping with buddies from out-of-town, to a Sunday of unease and uncertainly to a full week of doctor-hopping. “It’s likely just a virus” says my primary doctor. “We’ll still need to do a CT scan though.” Then the phone call from a family friend who’s lap my scan fell into: “I’ve never seen anything this large that wasn’t lymphoma.” Wow. This was all on Monday.
But that’s not even the day I’m referring to. There was still hope that it wasn’t that thing. I mean, it was just an image. Not a biopsy, not actual cells. Just an image. So on I went to the ENT the next day. I didn’t even understand how an ENT fits in this scenario. I’ve got a lump in my neck, not a sore throat. But I blindly move forward and have a needle stuck in me to suck out some cellular stuff. At the same time, given that I’m Indian and I have no shortage of family and friends that are doctors, my cousin, Nirav takes it upon himself to have his oncologist friend reach out to me. Before I know it, I’m talked into an appointment on Thursday.
Thursday, March 17th – that was the day. When my oncologists words fell on me like a pile of bricks and brought a certain closure to the week of uncertainty. He confirmed that this was cancer, lymphoma to be exact. As macho as I want to act on the outside, there was nothing I could do to quell the tears already forming. It was a harsh reality that’s just impossible to prepare for. With the doctor right in front of me, I can’t help but ask myself the next set of questions: “what are my chances?” “what if I don’t make it?” What happens to my family?”