I still remember my first day as volunteer counselor at Y. B. L. Nair Municipality hospital’s Radiotherapy department popularly known as R building. There were rows of patients sitting in the corridor waiting for their turn to meet the Doctor. Their gloomy faces generated panic in me. How will I watch them go through the ordeals of chemo and radiation day after day? As an ex teacher, I was familiar with student- counselling. But counselling Cancer patients looked very daunting and tough, in spite of my psycho-oncology training. I prepared myself to quit. My burning desire to help others was slowly transforming into a desperate desire to cry out for my own help.I went upstairs to visit the wards. Four patients in the male ward and four in the female ward were being treated with Chemo injections. They came from Ratnagiri, Satara, Thane, Nasik, some from nearby places like Bandra or Byculla as well. But their story remained the same. Poverty. Pain. Suffering. Helplessness. I spoke to them in my broken Hindi and pathetic Marathi. They smiled encouragingly at me. For a moment I couldn’t fathom who was counselling whom.
I came down deep in thought. How can I help these people? They need medicine, food, clothes—and money to buy these –and lots and lots of hope. I could not see myself capable of providing them with these. I felt defeated. As I sat down at my table in the MSW room, a young woman came towards my door. She was of medium height, clad in a printed cotton sari, her head covered with a scarf and a face as gloomy as the grey monsoon sky outside. ‘May I come in?’ she asked hesitantly. ‘Oh yes, of course!’ I said. I sat her in the chair opposite me. Even before she could speak, tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. My heart ached for her. I listened to the widowed mother’s cheerless tale of struggle against three long years of cancer, the hardships of balancing a sales person’s job and home and the daunting task of bringing up two kids single-handedly. She wept and wept. I don’t remember what I told her but I must have done something right because when she finally stood up to leave, her face was lit up with a smile.
I realized that day how pretty one looked when she smiled. I also realized what our job was as volunteers. We cannot fund treatment for all the patients, cannot feed all the hungry mouths, cannot wipe out all their poverty; but if we can light up even one single weeping face, that’s an achievement! My experience as a volunteer put me face to face with reality and made me aware of our limitations. It also taught me the skill to reach out to others. That desperate cry for help within me gradually disappeared.
Now, each day I look forward to visit my patients and wonder to myself, whose face will I light up today?
This lady is childless, has lost a breast to cancer and has lost sight in both her eyes. Can you make it out from her face She goes to an old age home near her house every Sunday ‘to cheer up the poor souls’. Isn’t she amazing!
