The report came the next day, and with it came another blow. My baby was diagnosed with a medical condition, a very complicated medical jargon I had heard for the first time.
I frantically searched online, trying to make sense of the words on the report. What I found left me shaken. The more I read, the more terrified I became. Words blurred together; facts hit like daggers. “This can’t be correct. I will wait for the doctor’s confirmation”, I told myself. With that thought, I sent him the reports on WhatsApp, holding on to the last shred of hope that he’d tell me it was nothing to worry about.
The wait for his response was agonizing. An hour felt like a lifetime.
And then, the call came. His words confirmed my worst fears. Adi had a rare, incurable genetic disorder. There were cysts in his brain—non-malignant, but capable of causing seizures and other complications. The doctor explained that while there was no cure, with the right medication and treatment, it could be managed. He advised me to consult a neurologist immediately to discuss a further course of action.
I didn’t know what to make of this new information. I couldn’t breathe. I felt the ground slip from beneath my feet. My mind refused to accept it. This couldn’t be happening. Not to my Adi. Not to us.
I was drowning in questions that had no answers.
In this lifetime, knowingly, I hadn’t harmed anybody, so why did this happen to me? What do I tell Mugddha & Sid? How do I share the enormity of this situation? Why, why, why?