can still remember it vividly. The moment I received
my diagnosis. It was a terrible moment, about two weeks ago. When I saw the doctors face, I saw pity in his gentle eyes. I feared the worst. I read the reports. Alas! My fears were confirmed. It was like a death sentence, only worse. I thought about all the sufferings and torment I had to endure. Suddenly, it all felt too overwhelming. I broke down. I hated myself. I hated the doctor. I hated everything. I have done nothing wrong in my life. Why me? Why not somebody else? There are worse people than me? Why am I the one who receives the worst punishment of all? It was a terrible thing called pancreatic cancer. I put my hand on the area above my stomach. There it was. A lump of solid mass three centimetres across. It was a tumour, the doctor called it. It was no tumour. It was a spell, a curse, a terrible mark of the end, there, like a parasite, growing and multiplying somewhere inside my body. I cannot remove it without bringing damaging my body. But if I do not remove it quickly, I will die. Painfully. It was already stage 3 out of 4 stages. Death was closing in. The time of my life was in countdown. The doctor tried to help me. He said there were five ways to cure my sickness. Five! So much suffering to endure for a man of forty years old. I felt weak. I wanted to die. I just wanted to dream myself into a better life and never return. For a moment, I saw myself, happy, with no cancer. I felt so happy. It was like on top of the world. No, it was even higher. The doctor called me. Cruelly, I was pulled back into reality. Time for surgery, he told me.
Fighting for an impossible win
The first surgery was not considered successful as the doctors did not manage to remove the tumour completely for fear of damaging the other internal organs. The survival rate is only thirty per cent. Can I be the lucky thirty per cent? I underwent another surgery. And another. And another. And another I had lost count of the number of surgeries I had undergone. About ten times at least. Of course I could not feel anything during the surgery as the doctors gave anaesthetics before the surgery. But soon the side effects began to take a toll on my health. Often I felt terrible pain at the spot where they operate on me. Not even aspirins could relieve the pain and I squirmed and turned in my bed painfully for a few sleepless nights before the pain finally receded. I felt tired and weak all the time. I felt helpless and useless. I could not even lift my hand. The bed was the place where I stay and will stay if I did not get well soon. Life if boring, painful and harsh at that time. Then came the radiotherapy and chemotherapy sessions. I was given anaesthetics again and I did not feel anything during these sessions. But the side effects continued to batter my fragile body. I vomited all the time. All my hair fell. There was more pain. More
agony. More sufferings. My skin becomes red, dry,
tender, and itchy. I bleed easily. I had to take a lot of pills at one go. Sometimes the pills got stuck in my throat and I coughed until my throat sore. Sometimes I vomited the pills and had to take the pills again. I was too weak and tired to move. I sleep most of the time, bearing with the pain. Life was like a living hell. Sometimes I thought it will be better if I just die than to endure all these torments. Death seemed too good a thing for me at that time. It was a useless fight. It was impossible to win.
Angels gave me hope
Although my conditions were terrible, there were people who did not give up on me. They did not leave me, unlike my dearest friends who laughed with me when I am well but were nowhere to be seen when I needed them. My family and the kind doctor always stayed with me. They gave me moral support and strong encouragement when I felt emotional. They make me smile and laugh heartily when I felt down. They were like hopeful sunshine piercing through the clouds of despair. Together, they brought hope and happiness during my worst times. They were angels, and they still are, because they selflessly sacrificed and cared so much more for somebody else and not for themselves. They made me believe that there was hope. They made me believe that I can be cured. They made me believe in myself. My family were my angels. They never left me. Every time I needed them, they will be there. Still, they never satisfied each and every one of my wishes even if I had my fits of rage or flew into tantrums. For example, if I wanted some water, they would ask me to get up, pour the water, drink it and then wash the cup. They tried to act as if I was normal and not at all a cancer patient. Initially I felt angry and disappointed. But as time passed I knew their intentions were good. They wanted me to be independent and be able to live a better life on my own even if I was inflicted with a dreadful disease. But I knew deeply inside them they were all terribly worried for me. Besides that, they were always willing to talk to me. Although they were all very busy, but they still managed to extract some time to listen to me. And they are really good listeners. I thanked them very much for letting to release my sadness, anger, disappointment and misery that I had accumulated in my heart for such a long time. I can still remember at one night, I blacked out due to the immense pain which was a side effect of the treatment I underwent. When I came to, I found my family all beside me. I could never describe how comforting and touched I felt at that time. It was a beautiful moment. I was dying, but they did not give up any hope. When I looked at them, their warm eyes filled me unlimited strength and will. I immediately knew what I must do. I swore I will live on, because I knew although I was just one of the billions of human on earth, I was important and meaningful.