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t h e p o r t f o l i o o f a d i g i t a l a n d b r a n d c r e a t o r . . .

25km walk for cancer awareness and cure FOR A CAUSE Initially it was a search for answers, trying to find the strength to comfort my wife, and coming to terms with what we thought usually happened to someone else. The earliest signs appeared in October 2014 amidst the packing, booking tickets within the sub-continent, buying pieces of Chinese-made Canadian history for friends and family, scheduling our jaunts to align with marriages and other family events, and urging friends to recommend watering holes and restaurants catering to unique cuisines from all over India. Late into an autumn night Jaya, my wife, found a lump in her right breast. When she told me, I dismissed it as knotted excitement awaiting to unravel. [An earlier suspicion had ended up as water sacs.] Wiser counsel prevailed and soon we were waiting in the consulting room of our family doctor. Between looking at the graphic posters of 90% of the world’s diseases and hastily tacked baby pictures, I was trying to conjure up positive thoughts. Painful process Although the family doctor could not physically detect a lump, she prescribed mammogram and ultrasound. Mammogram, as Jaya puts it, “is a painful process”. They pull, stretch, and squish you to get the best possible scans. The radiologist did the ultrasound twice, which in itself raised the red flag on the pole of suspicion to its highest level. On seeing the results, she was asked to wait. Jaya sensed something was terribly wrong; my heavy dose of positive mantras miserably failed its purpose in life. We do find the images a little different from last time, so we need to do a biopsy. The Chief Radiologist was outwardly calm. Lady Luck intervened; with the Chief Radiologist’s influence Jaya was able to get an appointment for biopsy on Monday! After that, the long wait for results began. I think there is a major opportunity to improve the process here.ÂThe results are sent from the lab to the hospital. However, the hospital needs the family doctor’s approval, to contact the patient. In such a critical juncture, do we need this red tape? “But I am flying out in two weeks.”

The family doctor called at the end of the week, “You can expect a call on Monday from the surgeon in North York General Hospital [NYGH].” She had no supporting information. The surgeon’s assistant called with detailed information about the time and place; they are not privy to any other information. The weekend produced no sleep. A winter’s storm raged. I cranked up the thermostat, but it not remove the chill. We had, by then, stopped packing for our long-delayed trip to India. Intimidating environment We arrived at the NYGH well ahead of schedule. By N. American standards, NYGH looked small. We pass it every day, and have for the past decade and a half. But, it never looked as intimidating [unless you go in senseless] as it did now. The experience starts at the parking lot; the cheapest fare: $22. Jaya felt we’d be coming back; so I settled for the package: $60 for five days. I held Jaya’s hand and pussy- footed through the corridor with the faint hope that Fate did not know we had entered the building. I looked at my reflection in the sign board with polished lettering, “Breast Cancer”. I could see my thoughts reflected from the outside; the worry lines shifted as I kept looking at it. My warm breath made funny shapes on the metallic continued ...

“You can expect a [dreaded] call.”

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