The cancer survivor

I was playing Kho-Kho and I had experienced an excruciating pain in my hip as I tried to get up when my friend tapped me on the back and commanded me to get up. That night I returned home after a tiring day outdoors, and sat down to dinner. But the pain was so bad, I could not as much as get up without support. My parents were scared and consulted a slew of doctors who suggested conducting an MRI of the back and later a biopsy test.

What unfolded next was a nightmare. After a small portion of my back was cut open, I felt as if someone were constantly hammering a nail in my back. They kept punching needles into my spine to draw samples. I screamed every time they did this. I was in deep pain and the local anaesthesia did little to ease down my discomfort. The results of the biopsy indicated that there was a malignant tumour in the pelvic region. It was "Ewing's Sarcoma", a rare tumour to hit children. Between stages three and four, the tumour was growing aggressively. My parents initially kept me in dark about the diagnosis as they consulted doctors.

I had lived in Mysore all my life and moving to Mumbai for treatment at the Tata Memorial Hospital in Parel was difficult. I was shocked at the revelation that I had cancer and was upset to move away from my home and loved ones. The tumour was such a huge obstacle and would not permit me to walk properly or even lift my leg. Surgery, doctors said in this scenario, could have left me bed-ridden. So, they administered an aggressive chemotherapy regime that continued for close to a year.

I could no longer enjoy the tangy Gol-Gappa that I loved so much. I had dietary restrictions. On the third day of Chemotherapy, I started vomiting incessantly. Absolutely nothing - not even water - would stay in my stomach for more than a few minutes.

My parents could not bear to see me in such a state. To avoid troubling them thus I used to sneak inside the toilet and vomit silently. Chemotherapy had weakened my immune system. It felt like my bones would break and crumble into powder any day. Any attempt to bathe in cold water, even accidentally, would make me feverish.

And then one day the unimaginable happened. During a morning shower, as I reached for my hair to shampoo them, fat balls of hair started coming off. It felt as if my entire life was getting uprooted along with the clumps of hair that fell on the bathroom floor. My head was later shaven entirely. When I went to Mysore for a bit, curious acquaintances and relatives started inquiring about my shaven head. I was trapped in an embarrassing web of questions. They were not aware of my condition.

After completing eight months of treatment, I was eventually declared cancer-free.

I returned to Mysore and was greeted with balloons, confetti and loved ones who beamed and rejoiced at having me back. Teachers at my school, Kautilya Vidyalaya, arranged for me to only appear for the final exams of the term. I cleared the exams and thus did not have to waste an academic year.

Two years later, I feel very lucky to have survived. I penned down the journey that saw me through cancer onto the road to recovery in a book which has managed to inspire those who read it, to not lose hope in the face of adverse scenarios that a life-threatening illness like cancer can throw up.

I am not as fit as I was before cancer struck me. Recuperation from cancer can take at least six years after treatment. I do not run as much or play cricket now. But not all is looking bleak. Only earlier this year, I participated in the international games for cancer survivors organized in Moscow, Russia. I was ranked fourth in football and chess. Instead of thinking that I was doomed, I conditioned myself to believe that I was suffering from a sickness that was taking a tad bit more time to get cured. My resilience saw me through.

—As told to Maitri Porecha