Another day with a pair'a'dice

It's been a terrible one and a half years for my wife and my in-laws. My father-in-law has been battling with cancer since Feb 2002. In the beginning, the prognosis was not good. Lung cancer which had spread to the brain.

It seemed at that time that the doctors had all but written him off. And it all seemed hopeless considering that he wasn't able to quit smoking either.

But he survived for a long 18 months - with ups and downs, one must admit - but still quite admirably. And he did this only with his will power - the famed mind over body bit. Every time he hit a down - he'd collapse with a seizure and have to be rushed to hospital - he was back up in a few days, seemingly stronger than before. Before each seizure he wasn't being able to sit up in bed; but here he was going out shopping and discussing his pet ideas with all comers.

And he defied all expectations.

After one trip to the hospital (for regular treatment), the doctor looking after him told my mother-in-law that it was incredible that he was still alive (this was a year after he was diagnosed).

Two days ago, he collapsed in the bathroom. This time, the doctors have said that it's just a matter of days. They've put him on morphine patches; and for the first time in the last two years he hasn't been able to pull himself out.

Somewhere though, the feelings are mixed. Everyone wants him to live; but no one wants to see him in pain.

It's too hard.

Cancer is such a terrible disease.

My wife and I were reading poetry to each other yesterday. WH Auden. We started off our romance like that. And though it seemed in the last two years since we got married, that we've been doing it less and less, yesterday showed that the magic hasn't gone away at all.

Poetry is such a wonderful thing, when you stop to think about it. Especially when you read it out to someone, or have it read out to you. Hidden meanings, perhaps some that the poet didn't intend, come across and you feel things that you might have forgotten, or mistaken to be a touch of heart-burn.

For those of who you haven't really understood how poetry can do things like that, just read some of the greats. T.S Eliot, WH Auden, eecummings, Sylvia Plath, Dylan Thomas are some of my favourites. You I'm sure can find your own. Read it out aloud. Read what you feel not what you see.

Because yesterday I found words in unexpected places, with unexpected meaning. Words that I had wanted to use and hadn't know that I had.

This is how to express yourself.

It's been over a month since I last posted. It's been a tough month for me, and tougher for my wife. Our dog, Piggy, died a month ago, on the 5th. We decided to just drop everything and drive down (up?) to Bombay (Mumbai). For the week we were there we managed to forget, but when we came back, the house seemed so empty.

Little things that I didn't recognise earlier were gone now, and they were sorely missed. Like how he used to bounce about waiting for me to take him for his walk. Lot's and lots of things like that.

I had once thought that I didn't understand what love is. But first my wife, and then my Piggy, taught me that I was wrong.

The worst part is that we didn't expect it at all. We thought he was fine and healthy. How wrong can you be.

For my wife, it's been even tougher. Her father is dying of lung cancer. And then Piggy's death was really terrible.

And I don't know what to do. I love her terribly, and can't bear to see her so sad.

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We've got another pup, a black mini pomeranian called Dobby (yes, the Harry Potter house-elf).

It seems that life can go on in the midst of death.

And we can go on loving.

Another thing to learn.