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My first job as a sub-editor in The Economic Times in 1994 brought me in touch with many people. Some were just colleagues, some were mentors and a few became life-long friends. It is hard for me to categorise Madhuri Velegar K. She headed Bangalore’s Femina desk and we hardly spoke though we worked for the same management. I do remember her  as an impossibly calm and poised person. She had a warm, happy presence though she never spoke too much or made her presence felt. You could not dismiss her either. Like I said, she was hard to categorise.

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Years passed and I was now working with The New Indian Express and at a press event that involved a formal lunch at a heritage hotel, she walked in. I immediately recognised her. Yes, this was Madhuri alright. But she was wearing a scarf. She had not been well and had been undergoing chemotherapy and had lost her hair. There was no self-consciousness or self-pity on her lovely face though. She was perfectly normal, like nothing was missing from life. She was never the drama queen. Just the queen of every situation life threw at her. No hysterics. No negativity. Calm acceptance and the heart of a lioness that never ever stopped fighting.

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We talked and a few years later, I remembered her when I was editing a Chicken Soup edition for Indian women. I asked her to share her battle with cancer. She did and also met me once over coffee and we shared notes about my son and her daughter who were going to the same school at that time. She wrote kindly and warmly about my first novel and called me when an auto I was commuting in was taken over by three men. She insisted I share the incident with the readers of Femina and made sure that despite my misgivings, there was a photoshoot to go with the story (“wear a nice neck piece, ” she insisted over the phone!).

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I know many people whose life she touched with little, effortless gestures of kindness. Despite being a senior journalist, she had no ego. Life for her was bigger than a designation, a job though she loved her work and told me once that after every chemo session, she would want to return to work because  somehow that made her feel better. She loved all the little things that make up a deeply felt life. Her cats. Her cup of tea. Her daughter.

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It was just by chance a few months ago that she let it slip.  The cancer was back and she was back in the trenches to fight it. She also asked me to get my throat pain checked. Just to be sure that there was nothing to worry about. I called her many times in subsequent months but could not get through. Madhuri had no time to spare. She was fighting for her life. She passed away today and I share with you her piece that was published in a Chicken Soup edition. It will tell you just what kind of a spirit she had and how special she was and how much we can learn from warriors who face the unthinkable without  wallowing in toxic negativity and cynicism.

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What I Learnt From Cancer

By Madhuri Velegar K

One day I woke up in the morning, without any hair. It is only then  I realized that my hair was an extension of who I was—it framed my face and it did not matter whether it was frizzy or oily. I had hair, like everyone else. When all you can do is run your hand over a  bald pate, does it do something to your self esteem? You bet it does. But this came much later. First I learnt that I had cancer cells. My response had been, “you’re joking, right?” “No,” said the doctors who removed my ovaries and a cyst. A pathology report, is not  something you can refute. Not when it classifies those abnormal cells as second stage and gives them a name you do not want to hear but cannot run away from. 

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Cancer is associated with mortality. I went through denial, then a stage of “why me?” and finally, acceptance, when I told myself, “I will deal with this.” Sure, it’s tough, but the doctors told me an angel had been watching over me, and therefore, my ovarian cancer had been detected in early stages. 

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My magazine editor was supportive when I told her what I was scheduled to do. Take six cycles of chemotherapy. I would lose my hair, would have side effects (nausea, stomach upsets, constipation) but whenever I felt fine, I would come to work. Sounds easy,  but it wasn’t.

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Because when my friends, not all, heard that I had to go through C-H-E-M-O–they got spooked. The responses varied from,“Oh, I don’t want to meet her now” to “Perhaps she asked for it?” to “Why didn’t she get a check-up done?” to “Shucks, she’s really done for!” Somehow the tenor of all conversation focussed on some sort of lapse or fault, made by me, naturally!

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But what if you don’t have any signs? How will you know that the cyst sitting on your ovary for sometime, has turned malignant? By the same logic,  how will you know that the pain in your breast is a cause for worry?

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The answer is simple. You just do your medical checks. I know a lot of women who haven’t done their mammograms every year, but hey, it takes just 10 minutes, and it could save your life. Because anything that is detected early, can be fully cured.

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Coping with cancer wasn’t easy. More so when after the first cycle itself, my hair fell out in clumps. I laughed about it, telling myself, “Its only hair, it will grow back.” But try telling that to yourself for the next eight or nine months, when you have to go around wearing a scarf or avoiding social events.

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Chin up! I told myself every morning, when I looked at my face in the mirror, but I looked different. I looked as if I was 60 and not 40, and I told my dad, “so this is what I am going to look like, when I’m going to get older. Remove some teeth, and that completes the picture.”  

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People I spoke with couldn’t quite say the C-word. They sort of passed me by, unobtrusively, but hey, I noticed being ignored. Some sympathised with me; a few good friends however told me to hang in there, others sent me some great reads, and my husband also bought me a couple of books which made my days and nights not so long. I got drawn into meditation. Almost daily I stared long at the gulmohar tree and its flowers, outside my house. I waited for sunsets, I sat under the morning sun, I worshipped the rain. I continued to read my email, and do a few assignments when I was well enough. But some nights I was scared. My mum had died of cancer. What if I did too? I didn’t want to die so soon–I wanted to see my daughter all grown up, I had to live. So, when I couldn’t sleep, I didn’t let those negative thoughts prevail. I just popped a sleeping pill!

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Life stopped for me, but  went on everywhere else. My daughter got dropped and picked up from school, my mother-in-law fussed over her trips to the market like she always did, my husband went for work, wishing me best of luck, the maids came and went, my cats though missed me, I know, as they sat alone waiting for a cuddle on my parapet, while I went out for long walks, alone. I connected with my mum, who was no more, and spoke to her while I walked, I looked at the clouds above and imagined shapes, and often found myself talking to them. I listened to the birds as they flew home in flocks every evening at exactly 6.00pm, and I walked every day, and ate well, as well as I could tolerate of course.

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I stopped being scared.   I learnt that when you are this sick, you need people around you to support/care for you. My dad, a nutritionist and dietician made sure I ate green, and I ate stuff like ragi which would hoist my haemoglobin to respectable levels so that I could take my next chemo and not have to take a blood transfusion. So did I survive it all? Sure, of course I did, with flying colours too! And what can I share with you after this? 

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The fact that I needed a spank like this one for taking my health for granted all these years. For delaying my meals, not eating enough greens, ignoring low haemoglobin counts, living with low immunity levels, carrying work home, and then carrying guilt back at work, when I wasn’t home enough for my child, and basically accumulating a lot of emotional garbage, which I could happily live without. Cancer breeds when you carry emotional luggage, like Joel Osteen says, “an airline allows you to carry two bags, but I say you need to walk life with no bags at all. Throw away the past, forgive yourself, and others, as God has already forgiven you long ago.”

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I learnt that anything eaten in excess is wrong for you as is not drinking enough water and not finding time to exercise or even walk or giving up the leisure to unwind and enjoy the quieter moments.  Sure look after your family but do that little bit extra for yourself as well.

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De-stress. Unwind. Pranayam. Yoga. Words like these should be keywords of your life. 
One more lesson. that came from my good doctor at the end of my chemotherapy, “if you observe anything that is abnormal in your life, say you urinate a lot, or you alternate between having constipation, then loose motions, or you have a persistent cough that just doesn’t go, or the cute mole on your left check just began to grow, or you can’t eat well—don’t allow these symptoms to remain with you for more than 15 days or a month, try and treat them through medication, and if they still persist, please get yourself thoroughly checked.”

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Another doctor, who gave me my chemotherapy, said at the end of my treatment, “Eat well, sleep well, go for morning walks, and get your mammogram, and pap smear tests done every year. Sure mammography is a bit painful, but it  must be done as it is the most effective way of detecting abnormal tissue etc.”

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I also learnt that I wasn’t the boss. I think God upstairs is the boss and we need to be alert, careful and live life with hope, charity, forgiveness and love.

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The other great learning is to hang in there. And try telling yourself that if you can accept both pain and pleasure (in your mind, that is) equally, then the battle is not so hard, and the journey is not so tough.