The Indian American

My brother and I arrived in Mumbai a few hours after our dad took his last breath in 2010, before an emergency surgery for a hip fracture. He'd had health problems for the last five years of his life, and my brother and I had taken turns at long-distance care- giving: My brother, a neurologist, went for every medical procedure, and I would follow to help our parents during the recovery period. After he died, we asked our mom to come live with one of us. She declined, preferring her independence and life in Mumbai. She had always been healthy, walking most everywhere and eating sensibly. We settled into a routine where she stayed in India for most of the year and then made the long journey to be with both of us for a few months. My brother and I are U.S. citizens, and my mom had a 10-year tourist visa for the United States, which made travel easier. For visitors from many countries, it can now be harder to get such visas. - - - One day in 2013, my mom started getting low-grade abdominal pain, which did not lessen despite medications. After the pain got worse, a primary-care physician recom- mended a scan. It revealed a tumor that a biopsy found was cancerous. She needed to have a kidney and parts of her ureter removed. My brother got on the next flight, and within days my mom had surgery. My brother stayed for a month and a half with her in a hospital, sleeping on a couch in her room, eating in the cafeteria and taking calls from patients in his own practice at night, when it was daytime in the United States. When my mother finally was dis- charged, my brother returned to his family and medical practice in Ashland, Oregon, and one of my uncles in India and his wife helped with her recovery. When she was well enough to begin radiation, I went to India for six weeks, stitching together vaca- tion time, comp days and a few sick days. In January 2014, six months after her diagnosis, her oncologist cleared her for travel, and she came to the United States. Her scans were clear, and we had a bit of a breather. That summer, my mom was due for a scan. She was staying with me, and we decided to get it done in Mumbai because my mom's tourist insurance would not cover a scan done in the United States. Once we got to India, she and I went for her scan. I returned a few hours later to get the results. I still recall how cold the room was and how cold my hands got. I read and reread the pages. The cancer had metasta- sized to her lungs. Tiny dots on the images. My mom took the news with her usual grace and calm. Not once did she break down or get angry. She trusted my brother and me to take care of her. And as a woman of science - my mom had a master's in chemistry and had taught high school chemistry until she retired - she hoped the treatments would work. - - - She had to begin chemotherapy soon. The treatment would be exorbitantly expensive in the United States, where she wouldn't have adequate insurance, but it was man- ageable in India. I took three months off under the Family and Medical Leave Act, which requires private employers with 50 or more workers to offer up to 12 weeks of unpaid leave each year. My supervisor and colleagues were completely supportive. Because I work for The Washington Post, I was very lucky to have this option. Many 18 THE INDIAN AMERICAN OCTOBER-DECEMBER 2018