The world observes Leukemia and Lymphoma Awareness month in September.
Her name was Patcharee Hensirisak, which conveniently was shortened to Pat for the convenience of all who were not Thai. But more popularly she was called Anne. I liked to call her Patcharee and was one of the few who did. She always told me that she loved that somebody called her by her full name. The truth is it was not that difficult the charee was actually a Thai version of Sri in Indian languages. “Thai is a child of Sanskrit like many other Indian languages,” she told me once.
Patcharee Hensirisak was a student of Biochemistry who came to the United States to ‘upgrade’ it to an engineering degree. So she enrolled in the department a semester after I did. Our areas were different- she was in Food engineering and my specialization was an extension of my undergraduate degree- soil and water engineering. But the initial course-work for both of us landed us in many classes together, Statistics, Mathematics for engineers, and what not. I had some advantage over her in the math and statistics classes. Thus our hellos extended to ‘good to see you’ and then weekly meetings where I would give her small clues to solve ‘complicated’ assignments. By the end of the semester she passed with a B+. She was so happy but also felt obligated to return the ‘favor’. After two semesters she got that chance when we both enrolled into a graduate level Microbiology course. This time she had an advantage over me and I gained through her. My mind just wouldn’t accept to understand the complicated world of microbes and how they functioned. I remember the patience with which she explained to me the physical theories and chemical reactions in the microbial world. Slowly, it all seeped in and I came out with glorious B- in that course. Believe me I had not felt that great with all the other As and A- s to my credit in other courses, as that B- made me feel. I learned a lot in this course and a lot of the credit goes to Patcharee.
As we finished our course-work and started on graduate-researches we distanced out a little bit. A meeting in the lab, graduate-office or downtown was all we had. But the warmth remained the same. I still remember one fall as she entered the graduate office panting.
“Have you been running all the way through,” I jested.
“No, I was not running Shuchi. I have been having trouble breathing for some reason.”
“Do you have allergies?”
“No, I don’t think so. I also have some pain in my chest for some time now.”
“Oh did you go to the doctor.”
“No, not yet.”
“Why,” I almost rebuked her.
“I have no time. I need to take constant readings, sometimes at 3 in the morning,” her sweet voice sounded tired.
“Why don’t you ask Bob to take them for you,” Bob was her boyfriend.
She laughed at the suggestion. Her laugh was like a tinkle- a sweet trembling vibration that echoed softly in the hallway, where we usually met- she coming in me going out or vice-versa.
A year later she discovered and we learned that she had Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma. The whole department was struck with shock. Patcharee was 25 years old. She and I had a heart to heart talk once when she had just returned from the John Hopkins Hospital after a Chemotherapy session. I can still picture her standing in front of her car when I came out of the department building. Her boyfriend by her side looked tremendously tired and fragile. He smiled at me weakly, while Patcharee gleefully ran towards me and embraced me. “Look at my cool toupee I have been telling Bob how hot I look,” she chimed. “Oh yes, you certainly do,” I felt optimistic at her cheerful countenance as I examined her oriental-looking wig. “May I speak to you for a few minutes,” she sweetly requested as she took me aside. “Of course, you don’t have to ask,” I was feeling a little guilty as I felt that I was not as much there for her as I should have been.
Then she told me how she had ignored her earlier symptoms- swollen lymph nodes, recurring fevers, and night chills. She also thanked me to ‘scold’ her for not visiting the doctor sooner. She had made an appointment soon after our chat in the graduate office. I remember feeling a little relieved, only to find later that my ‘scolding’ had not been as timely as it was needed. “So, what is the prognosis, Patcharee,” I eyed her pleadingly as if trying to coax out a positive answer. She became serious, “That’s what I want to talk about. It doesn’t look good. The doctors want a bone-marrow transplant done soon. But it is difficult to find a match,” her face reflected a ghastly seriousness. I now understood the tiredness that Patcharee’s boyfriend had on display, it was actually helplessness. I was feeling the same. “I am getting in touch with all my friends to prepare them for my departure,” she said those actual words. “Please Patcharee don’t say that,” my voice grew weighty as I tried to fight the unnerving tightness in my throat. “Please be strong, Shuchi,” she requested with a genuineness that I am yet to find in any other human being. I had that conversation with her in the fall of 1999.
Patcharee fiercely fought with her disease till January 7th, 2001. I was not in Virginia by then and couldn’t keep in touch because of the aggressive treatments that kept her out of touch from most of her friends. We did exchange emails whenever she felt strong enough to write. She was a hard-working woman who worked till few days before her demise on two publications. They were both published posthumously.
The sadness still creeps up in me from time to time. I still have her email address in my address-list and I don’t think I will ever be able to delete it from there. I know that she lives in my heart and of several others. However, seeing her name in my address list, every now and then, helps me remember Patcharee, her smiles, friendship, warmth, and the tuitions she gave me in the microbiology class. It also somehow helps me keep rooted and reminds me about the fickleness of life and reasons to tame that fickleness. Moreover, to pay close attention to friends and family who are complaining of physical discomfort and reprimand them for not going to a doctor as soon as possible or take them myself if they wouldn’t themselves.
With this account I request to all who are reading to please pay close attention to your bodies, listen to the messages it is giving you. Visit a doctor as soon as you find some abnormal growth/s or symptom/s. If you sometimes feel that it might be your imagination still trust your instincts and do not delay a visit to the doctor. Also, if a family member or a friend talks about his or her symptoms, help them get a health assessment as soon as possible.
A few links on cancer:-
http://www.oncologychannel.com/
http://www.cancerlinks.org/
http://www.cancer.org/docroot/home/index.asp?level=0
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment