The Prognosis
Myfriend’s parting line was, “Bye Sam, and seriously consider putting your thoughts on paper!’
I kept courting the idea on and off for a few days. Finally, one evening I sat hunched over a piece of paper, and tried to launch myself into the literary orbit.
I managed a few lines that evening, and over a period of few more days, sometimes at work, at home, in the loo, and wherever have you… I produced only dust.
Then I got this spell of ‘no-excuse solitude’ for about three days. Kicked into ‘high’ gear, I started furiously punching whatever came to my mind onto my laptop… It gave me immense pleasure of putting my toe in the first crack of this rock face!
My essay titled ‘Prognosis’ may sound Lance Amstrong-ish… His tryst with cancer and his comeback are supremely superlative. My struggle of coping with loosing one eye in my prime, and almost immediately battling tuberculosis, seems trivial in comparison.
At the cost of sounding melodramatic, this composition is a direct consequence of my experiences with adversity, and an insight which generally grows on stony ground.
This one is for you Niksie!
The Prognosis
The first time I heard this word was when I lost my eye!
For a person who had hardly seen the ‘insides of a hospital’ in his conscious years — especially for his own treatment — I did not quite comprehend when the doctor said, ‘Your prognosis doesn’t seem to be good’… I guess he was too polite to say, ‘Kiss your eye goodbye!’
Time had thus far treated me well. I had an extraordinary wife and a son to dote on. I had achieved the unattainable at work. Consequently, I was being given an enviable opportunity to surge ahead in my career. All things considered, I was feeling ‘high on life’.
And then I started running out of luck.
That’s what people said, and after a while I started believing it…
After the eye injury came the seizures. I was diagnosed with tuberculoma of the brain. I thought — that does it, I must now explicate my will.
This was not out of acquiescence to fate, but because of the calm sense of expediency and providence, which helped me deal with my half-blindedness and raging tuberculosis at the ‘ripe’ age of 32!
I wanted to fight this disease as badly as I battled my disability. Like Lance Armstrong told cancer, I told TB, ‘Buddy you have chosen the wrong body to get into, and definitely the most wrong anatomy to attack in my body. I am the strongest up there.’
The medication had cured my disease but wrecked my insides. Steroids seem to have fortified my resistance, but it had also added layers of fat all over me. I now weighed almost a 100 kgs. I was a paradox to my wife’s stature and profession of fitness and diet consultant.
I had to do something about it, and so we started…
It began with slow duck walks around my house. These slowly increased to 12-km brisk walks along the perimeter of a beautiful promenade. Eventually, I became stronger, and regained stamina and strength.
The neurologist said, ‘Your prognosis is excellent!’.
After two years of eating about 16 pills a day for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and antagonizing one of the senior-most doctors in the hospital, I was mentally strong enough to ‘stand on the steeple, and piss on the people.’
But I was still considered ‘disabled’. I decided to do something about it by proving that I was as good as, or better than, many of my colleagues.
As if by divine intervention, I saw a flier painted on a BEST bus about the upcoming Mumbai Marathon 2009. I instinctively decided that I would participate in the half marathon (21 kms)to start with.
Thereafter started a flurry of preparations for the event, which was scheduled just four months later. That’s when Hal Highdon became my proxy guru, and I started training in real earnest. I ran four times a week, swam the balance three, and pumped iron on all days.
Navy Day Celebrations 2008 kicked off. I got an opportunity to prove my physical fitness by way of the ‘sea swimming’ competition, a standard event of the celebration.
I participated and managed to get the qualifying certificate by coming within 20 minutes of the winner. Later in Jan 2009, I completed the half marathon in 2 hrs 27 mins — an average performance by marathon standards, but a huge achievement for me… I had been a pathetic runner and a tail-ender in NDA X Country.
Having accomplished these feats, I thought I had a strong ground to medically upgrade myself 14 months later in March 2010. When I stood before the neurologist for his opinion, he refused to upgrade me.
I often wonder if the refusal was an outcome of his previous malevolence towards me? Or was it just ‘steer to safe course’ timidity, a symptom of the residue of years of official caution.
Unfazed by this rejection, I prepared and qualified for a full marathon, 42 kms this time, and of course the sea swimming once again… Unfortunately, both yielded no positive movement of my medical status.
But this did not break my spirit… I soon realised reconciliation is the only way one can lead a happy life — if life throws a spanner at you, grab it, tighten your screws, and move on.
That’s what I did. I found a new love in running. It became a form of meditation for me. I did three more marathons, one ultra, and have now ventured into the exciting world of triathlons.
So, if I were to believe in wisdom of hindsight, I would certainly say I have become a much better and fitter person. Dis-ability has become a better ability and I don’t care about the ‘prognosis’ anymore.
Sam Oak