Chapter Two: Red Light

“We have two lives, and the second begins when we realize we only have one.”

-Confucius

On that fateful December morning, Papa sank back in his chair. By the end of the hour, he would be on the other end of a surgeon’s desk, listening passively as the doctor listed all his maladies. He wondered whether it was even necessary for someone to tell him that there was something terribly wrong with him.

Papa stares at his watch, trying to trace back his misfortunes. When did it all begin? When will it end? The air is silent but for the second hand of the watch, that ticks away merrily. As the minutes pass, it seems to tick by faster and faster, till it begins to sound like a timebomb.

Suddenly, he is startled, and realizes his phone was ringing all along.

It is his friend, letting Papa know he is waiting downstairs to take him to the appointment. As he leaves, he looks at the mirror, remorseful. It was a tradition of his to look at himself before the mirror all those years ago, back when he still went to work. As someone in the highest rungs of the corporate ladder, he understood that images were as important as reality.

He would rise with the sun, have a hearty breakfast, and shave every second day. Back then, he would check for creases, ensure his suit fitted perfectly, and smile before he left. Back then, the image in the mirror did not betray his reality. Today, it magnified it. By now, he had lost so much weight that his skin drooped off his bones. The smile had disappeared, giving way to an abyss. By now, he couldn’t remember the last time he had an actual breakfast.

But as he left for the appointment, he smiled, nevertheless. As a leader in the corporate world, one deals with serious setbacks every day, makes decisions that touch so many others, both within and beyond one’s organization. There were so many nights that Papa returned home with the conflicts and anxieties of the day, but never a morning that he refused to stand up and face them head on. The man in the mirror now looked like a shadow of his former self, it was hard to tell they were the same person; but both were still standing. His suffering had bent him but could not break him. Another phone call interrupts his thoughts.

The drive to the doctor’s office is a quiet one. There was not much that needed to be said. While Papa hoped for good news, his gut told him that this might be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Every Indian city has a traffic problem, and Hyderabad was no exception. Dreading what was about to happen, Papa prayed to the traffic Gods, asking to be stranded at a red light, to delay the inevitable. But for once, all the lights turned green. It was the smoothest journey he could remember, just when he had least wanted it.

Hospitals are never a cheerful place. The pristine white walls mask the despair and suffering of its visitors, the air reeks of of antiseptics, steel, and death. The fortunate ones leave with a smile, but almost nobody enters with one. The more unfortunate never leave at all. As he waited in the lobby, he wondered which one of them he would be.

The doctor steps out of his face, a faint smile plastered on his face. He asks Papa to enter the office. Papa settles into his seat, watching the doctor anxiously as he sits down. The doctor’s smile has disappeared, a frown etched into his forehead. Papa breaks the silence.

“Doctor, can you please tell me what is wrong with me?”

He sighs and looks down. He did not know where to begin.

“Your colon does not work. What that means is that you cannot take food or even absorb water.”

Finding his confidence, the doctor proceeds to explain the nuances of Papa’s condition.

Despite his vast experience, he had never seen a condition as grave as this. He goes on to explain how Papa may never be able to eat solid food again, about how he's living on borrowed time.

“As a colorectal surgeon, I can understand the pain you’re going through. But I feel sorry for you because the truth is that few others will ever understand your suffering.”

Papa takes a deep breath. Perhaps, he thinks, there is still hope.

“What are my options now?”

The doctor sighs again. It is clear this is another conversation he would rather avoid.

“To be honest, you have only two options left. You can either suffer in the hospital or suffer in the house.”

“What about surgery?”

“From a surgeon’s point of view, it would be a very easy operation since I only need remove your body parts. However, I doubt your family would ever consent to this surgery.”

The doctor explains how he would have to completely remove most of Papa’s digestive tract. It is a dangerous procedure, with no guarantee of success. Given his malnourished condition, he also rules out a biopsy.

The conversation clearly pains the doctor, but he does not sugarcoat the gravity of his condition.

Papa then brings up his uncontrollable diabetes. He mentions that when he was healthier, he followed a strict diet, taking special care to keep himself healthy. However, because of his condition, his inability to eat solid food risks triggering it.

The doctor’s face turns red.

“I’m sorry, but I cannot help you. Ideally, you could take insulin because of the severity of your diabetes. But with your condition, the best you can do is to live with it.”

Papa remains silent for a while. He wonders how he could possibly explain his situation to his family without breaking their hearts. This was a tunnel, and there was no light to be seen. It only appeared to lead into another tunnel.

Still, holding on to that sliver of hope, he asks

“Doctor, is there any hope for me?”

“I cannot say that. I can only empathize with your pain. Your best hope is to pray to the Almighty, and to remain strong. There is nothing else that can be done.”

“Doctor, I suffer from excruciating pain. I can’t keep living like this.”

The doctor nods in understanding.

“I understand your pain. Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do for you. Your body cannot absorb anything, be it food, water, even medicines. When that is the case, nothing I recommend can help you feel better.”

Papa looks down at the ground. There is nothing left to hold on to. As he gets up to leave, the doctor apologizes for the bleak diagnosis.

“I wish it were someone else that diagnosed you, because I feel terrible that I cannot help you at all. For now, all I will say is that you need to lead your life beyond diagnosis.”

Papa's barely listening anymore, but the doctor’s last words resonate in his mind.

As they leave the hospital, not a word is spoken. This time, there is too much to be said.

He settles inside the passenger seat, and as they drive away from the hospital, Papa glances at the side-view mirror. There is the customary notice “Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear”. Above the warning, the hospital recedes away.

The drive back is quiet, but the silence weighs heavier. Papa wishes for nothing more than to return home, to collapse on his bed, as he takes in the enormity of the diagnosis. But on the way back, all the lights turn red.