Haj Ali Mirza had been a chain smoker all his life. Despite repeated calls from doctors and his anxious wife he just wouldn’t give up his 50-a-day habbit. Needless to say that after thirty years Haj Ali Mirza was diagnosed with lung cancer. The Doctor pulled out Haj Ali’s X-ray while he embraced his wife’s hand preparing to hear the full diagnosis. The Doctor took out a marker and methodically drew a circle around the part of his lung which showed three malignant growths.
“They’re small but they are treatable”, said the Doctor and told him to listen attentively while he ran through a series of options.
“You can have chemotherapy – this is a strong medication given in stages which is designed to kill the tumours. Chemo is 70-80 percent effective at this stage but it’s more than likely that you are going to suffer some side-effects. For a start you will lose your your hair, and you won’t be able to walk around a lot for a while because you’ll get tired”
Haj Ali, swallowed hard contemplating in his mind what the doctor had just told him. The thought of going bald and using a walking stick to walk was terrifying. How would he exlain why his hair has fallen to his children and his friends at the cafe where he plays backgammon?
“What’s the second option?”, Haj Ali Asked.
“The second option is radiotherapy. This uses radiation to kill the cancerous cells. A machine is used to transmit high energy balls pulses at your lunges. Its a long process. We are talking about a fourteen week treatment with each session lasting fiteen minutes but it comes with usual side-effects….soreness, fatigue, hairloss, coughing and difficulty sallowing. There’s no easy way out”
Haj Ali was stunned, not believing what he just heard. For the first time ever he felt completely powerless and was being dictated about what to do with his life by some Jujeh doctor (Farsi for inexperienced doctor) and none of the options appealed to him.
Damn! There’s just no easy way out!
Cancer? What cancer? This is all rubbish. Maybe over time things will get better and the cancer will just go away. My father lived to the ripe old age of 90 smoking and drinking Arak every day. Its in the genes. The foolish doctors just don’t understand…….
With the utmost determination, Haj Ali, buttoned up his blazer and told the Doctor that he was determined to beat this disease but he was going to fight it his own way. He would carry on exercising and drinking herbal tea.
“I’m only trying to help”, said the Doctor.
“No thank you, Doctor”, said Haj Ali curtly. To the amezament of his wife and the Doctor, he stood up to head towards the door. His teary-eyed wife made one last ditch effort to persuade him to sit down but she was cut-off with a sharp rebuke from his acid tongue husband.
“Khafesho!!!!!”
A few months later Haj Ali’s health begain to deteriorate. He began to cough excessively and even the smallest of activities such as climbing down the stairs left him short of breath. One morning, in the bathroom he saw traces of blood in his spit because he was coughing so bad. It’s serious he thought.
He returned back to the Jujeh doctor who did some follow-tests and took another X-Ray. The Doctor returned back to the counselling room where Haj Ali and his wife were sitting. The doctor sighed as he sat down sitting opposite Haj Ali. Haj Ali tried to avoid his gaze -a habbit which his wife noticed. Whenever he didn’t like hearing truth he would avoid looking the person in the eye.
Then came the inevitable news: The cancer had spread all over his lung.
“This time we need to have a surgery to remove the lung. This time you do not have a menu of options”
Haj Ali continued to look away while his wife was quivering with grief.
“You can still breathe with one lung. It’s not going to be easy but you can still have a good quality of life”, said the doctor after a two minute silence.
“And if I don’t? What then?”, asked Haj Ali stubbornly
“Then the cancer will spread all over your body and you will die”. Haj Ali was stunned and motionless. Then a myriad of thoughts came to him. In his mind he cursed the Doctor for telling him the news. He cursed his friends for influencing him to smoke. He cursed his wife for not offering more support and stop him from smoking.
He turned to the Doctor and told him that it was his fault for not advising him to go through chemotherapy and taking action earlier. Before the doctor could protest Haj Ali’s wife leapt up but was firmly put back into her place again.
“Khafesho!!!!!”
No one is going to stick a knife in me and cut out my organs!
With that thought in his head Haj Ali left the practise accompanied with his long suffering wife. This time he was going to beat the disease. Nothing will deter him.
It’s my body. I can reason with it. I can talk to it. There’s no need for surgery.These doctors just want to rob me blind for my money. What rubbish. I’m going to be the marvel of modern science and beat this disease on my own. I don’t need anyone’s help. Ican do it alone. I’ll beat the odds. Positive mental attitude. Yes, that’s it.Positive energy.
Unfortunately, Haj Ali soon died with that last thought in his mind.
