Wednesday, July 21, 2010


I drop Jeet at the entrance to the hospital lobby and drive to the parking-lot to rush back to where she waits alone and a bit forlorn. We enter the chaotic world, the lobby; once again I leave her to wait patiently: ‘patience’ has become a way of life with us by now, and joins the long and crawling queue at the reception.
With the registration card, finally, in my hand and with Jeet following, we are permitted to the entry the restricted Oncology OPD. Jeet takes a vacant seat in the front row; strangely the rear rows are full, leaving the front one’s vacant. I with her papers, approach the OPD reception for registration.
I keep glancing back at her as the line moves forward; Jeet is looking straight ahead eyes unfocused, deep in her own apprehensions and worries; possibly she gives me a wane smile as I approach.
I come and occupy the seat next to her and await our turn with Dr Ghosh with whom I have already fixed an appointment on phone.
I look back and around at the sad spectacle: the affected toddlers in laps of desolate looking parents, the elderly in wheel-chairs with, disinterested paid, attendants and also fit looking young of both sexes men and women; forlorn and in no apparent hurry, patiently waiting their turn with glum continence, possibly trying to postpone the diagnosis or the treatment as long as possible.
There are no smiles on the faces of those around and very little talk, if at all, it is in whispers. A near silence is prevailing; a silence of a morgue
The grim scene confirms once again, if one is required, of the cruelty and viciousness of Cancer, it has no consideration for age or gender. Cancer can and does hit any one, at any time and without any warning.

At last our number comes, the sister on duty beckons and I in lead with Jeet closely following enter the inner chamber and knock on the door of the cubical with the name plate of Dr Ghosh.

How strange that once again I am going to trust and place the well being,trust, of one, who matters the most to me, in the hands of some one whom I am yet to face. The question, if I am taking the right decision, is still haunting me, even as we enter the doctor’s chamber.

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