Metastatic Cancer: An excerpt from the life of Vidya Shankar

Author - Geetu Ramesh from Bangalore, India

Introduction

Introducing this interview, we hear a profound and deeply personal journey from a wife whose life has been irrevocably shaped by cancer. Her husband’s battle with the disease unfolded in a series of challenges—delayed diagnoses, aggressive treatments, and the uncertainty of navigating an overburdened healthcare system. Throughout this journey, she reflects on the strength and resilience both she and her husband displayed, their shared determination, and the moments of love and joy that persisted despite the hardships. This candid account not only reveals the physical and emotional toll that cancer takes but also serves as a testament to the power of inner strength, love, and the importance of creating supportive environments for those facing the disease. In her own words, she teaches us about fighting, healing, and the difficult decisions that come with caring for a loved one while battling cancer together.

How would you describe your personal journey with cancer?

ANS: I suppose that cancer was always something that happened to other people and not to us. It just happened. While it was a little difficult to accept, we went ahead, we went ahead. There was a delay in getting the diagnosis done. Shankar started losing weight, which we thought was related to our diet program. He developed a boil on his right cheek and said that there was something funny. We consulted a dentist as well, and there was a delay in pulling out his teeth. 

I have no idea why the delay happened. He was given antibiotics for both but they did not work. I have no idea why this happened. It was an extremely aggressive form of cancer, and when his teeth were pulled out, the aggression increased. In June, he was diagnosed with cancer, and on July 1st, he had surgery. To get to the point that it was cancer took us a month. 

What form of cancer was it that your husband was diagnosed with?

ANS: It originated in his cheekbone and moved onto the skin. Because it had moved on to the skin, it was addressed as metastatic. It had become so aggressive that there might have been a pore in the cheek. Radiation would not have helped. 

At VHS, we waited for another two days and were told that he should start with chemotherapy. Luckily, I had a friend who had been doing research on this exact same form of cancer. She told us to go in for surgery, without thinking of anything else. 

The oncologist that we met parallelly explained why surgery was necessary. 

Do you think that the Indian healthcare system could have done better when it came to treating your husband?

ANS: Absolutely. If the dentist had some inclination that he had cancer. He put Shankar on different antibiotics and I said “no, let’s meet our family physician”. He suggested that we go to our family physician, who detected it immediately. He had previously worked for the cancer institute. I think that all doctors should work at some cancer hospital, regardless of specialisation. This would have helped my husband. 

Do you have any stories you would like to share, whether it be about you or your journey?

ANS: One day, he was sitting on the easy chairing, watching an uninteresting movie, while I read the paper. Just like that, little red spots appear on his leg from the knee to the ankle. The entire skin was covered with red spots within a second. I dropped everything and took him to the doctor. When it comes to cancer, you just don’t know. We celebrated our first year of remission on July 5th, 2023. By July 26th, we met our oncologist by chance. He told us that Shankar looks fine. Three weeks later, he saw that something was wrong and told Shankar to take a scan. 

This was the second time the cancer had formed. It was just about starting. We got a biopsy done. It was confirmed to be cancer, and it was very close to the brain. Our oncologist wanted a vascular surgeon to be with him during the surgery, which we couldn’t afford. The oncologist did not take a penny, while no vascular surgeons in the city would agree to perform the surgery at an affordable rate. 

The vascular surgeon who agreed was in Delhi and would return in 10 days. During those ten days, the cancer had spread. If we had gone into surgery immediately, we would have been able to arrest it. They told us that compared to other surgeries, it would be a minor one. They had no idea of what to do when they discovered that it had spread. In the second surgery, they removed one of his nerves and a vocal cord. Shankar being Shankar, he was able to talk using the other vocal cord. 

Initially, he couldn’t swallow…but he went on to fight and was able to celebrate pongal with us.

He would feel nausea and tiredness for the first four chemo sessions. Once they changed the drug, he began throwing up, and no food would stay in his system. His chemo was extended over five days. By the time we reached the fifth day, he was so exhausted that he could not move, and we had to use an ambulance to bring him home. It took him a week to recover, after which he was weak but resilient. 

We then had to go in for the sixth chemo session- the final one. The fifth one was from January 15-21st. The sixth one was in February. Shankar was not ready for it, both physically and mentally. The vomiting scared him, and there was no alternative, yet the cancer was healing. The doctors were able to convince him to endure the sixth session - they put off the treatment for a little while. On February 20th, they went for the sixth session. He threw up for three days. By 22’nd, he was extremely weak. Till then, his vitals were normal. At 7:30, the doctor came to check, finding everything normal. Half an hour later, they informed her that Shankar was responding very well- “you can go home on Saturday”. 

By 9:30, his pulse started weakening, and they had to rush him to the ICU. Sometimes, I think that he shouldn’t have been sent to the ICU. The ICU’s aim was to make money - not to treat him. They wanted to put him on a ventilator and dialysis. They said that they would keep him alive on that. 

“At least I would have been with him when he died.”

When we went in for the sixth chemo, I chose the same ward of nurses and ordered them to monitor his sodium and potassium levels. I wanted him to live. His lack of quality of life, if he had survived, does not negate the fact that the healthcare system was incompetent. When we went to SIMS, doctors could not think of anything else but money. That’s all it was. 

At some points, the things I had to hear- “why didn’t you go to a government hospital?”

“Why don’t you take a bus to school?”

How would you like us to describe your husband?

ANS: Resilient, courageous, never allowed anything to bring him down, healthy, and the end came probably because it was time for him to go. He probably thought that it was time to give me my space, and chose to let go.

I was fighting too, till the end. I would have continued fighting, but…I kept myself healthy so that I could keep this fight going on. The both of us were responsible in our own ways. He never thrust himself on me. It did impact my career.

How has cancer impacted your life? What can we, as a society, do to make it easier for cancer patients? Were you treated any differently when people learned of your situation?

ANS: Not really. Initially, everybody was very supportive and shocked at the situation. We had full support. I don’t know if they said things behind our backs, but when his first diagnosis was made, they were supportive. The indifference appeared when he was diagnosed for the second time.

We had always led a healthy lifestyle and held an extremely positive attitude, even when Shankar was made to stay in the ICU for 14 days.

In what ways did you cope with the impacts of cancer? How did you feel about the situation? Were there any moments of joy within the struggle? If you had the chance to talk to any person struggling with metastatic cancer right now, what would it be? How has your life changed since the diagnosis?

ANS: We thought, “What next?” We were extremely low on finances, and we went to a government hospital where we waited for two days. No doctor met us. Finally, when a doctor met us, we were just made to take more scans. Dissatisfied, we were referred to BHS voluntary healthcare service, which has roots in cancer research. I felt that something was wrong with the treatment. During the entire period, I went by what I felt, directed by my inner voice. If we had gone in for radiation immediately as the doctors had suggested, I would have lost him immediately.

After the first surgery, doctors had suggested that we put him in hospice care. Yet, he fought back. He wanted me back at school, but I could not keep him in the house - he was so used to going out. He would go to the temple, take photos, and enjoy life. He loved cooking food, he made coffee in our house till the end.

During the fourth chemo session, the doctor found a growth on his throat. They did a scan and found that it was a third metastasis on his body. The drug that he was being administered for chemotherapy had to be changed.

I did everything in conjunction with Shankar. For the last chemo, the doctor had given us time until 23’rd. He didn’t want to delay it. “Make up your mind. Maximum by 23’rd, come in for a chemo.” We chose to go on the 20’th- I wanted a day to spend with him before he went for chemo. I had planned out tests, worksheets, etc- I had to arrange everything.  

He was walking 3000 steps every day. I just wanted him healed. I didn’t realise it then, but my knees were weakening due to the stress. After he died, I experienced huge setbacks regarding my health. I didn’t have the time to focus on that. 

Between the first and second chemo- they did not treat a wound on his thumb, which went on to become septic. SIMS had taken us a month to get through with chemo. 

Do you have any social media that you would like us to link while publishing your story?

ANS. My Instagram (@vidya.shankar.author)

Has your journey with cancer impacted the way you approach things as a teacher?

ANS: It has. He wasn’t much into teaching - more of a computer guy. The way I would talk passionately about students and my work drew him into teaching. When he ended up teaching, I saw the way that he treated his students. We always learned from each other. We had a partnership that many would envy. To have something like the partnership that we had, it takes both of us. One person cannot bring about a beautiful relationship. It takes two. Our relationship was such that I could tell him anything and everything and vice versa. It was only towards the end that he cried after the fifth chemotherapy to two or three of his friends, but not me. 

If he had cried, I would have taken a different stand or been able to help him. I cannot be angry at what has happened- I wish I could. Anger would have been so easy- it would have sorted out so many of the things I’m feeling. One of the things I’ve realized about anger is that once you get angry, you don’t get to taste the other emotions. It’s like when you add a lot of spice to your food. Extremely tasty, but what are you tasting there? Anger is dangerous. Shankar wasn’t angry either. I was always the one who got angry in the relationship. 

When he was a teenager, he accompanied his parents on a pilgrimage. His father told him that one of the purposes of going on the pilgrimage was to give up something that he liked. When you’re back, it’s supposed to change you. Shankar said that he gave up on anger. He decided that he would not get angry. I used to be angry. I don’t get angry because I carry a lot of unresolved trauma- I get angry because things are improper. I am more strict than I am angry, but Shankar was not even that. He was extremely disciplined. He had a way of getting people to do things which I lacked. He was a very social person- I had difficulty making friends, but he never did. 

The minute I told someone that he had cancer, it was assumed that death was inevitable. They told me to take heart - the assumption was that Shankar would die soon. To the families of those who are dealing with cancer, I would say- not all cancers are terminal. Even if it is, don’t get them to feel that it is the end of life. Create a happy environment, and make the best of each and every day that you get with them. Don’t blame anybody. 

Did your students understand the gravity of the situation when they learned of it? How did they respond?

ANS: They’ve been very understanding. Some of them came and met me at home. I have been able to cry at school, and I was not ashamed to do so. Nobody felt embarrassed about it. They were all extremely concerned. 

The workplace helped me tremendously. Some of my friends are so happy that I have this safe space there. A lady I used to work with- she leads schools in Chenna I - she said that a teacher in their school had lost her husband and none of the other teachers even knew about it. 

They told her not to bring her personal life into the equation. I have worked in schools where teachers are treated like slaves. I joined Vruksha at a 50% pay cut. Shankar stood by me, though we weren’t making much. He taught part-time at a college. After his first surgery, when he went back six months later, his face was disfigured. The college was not ready to take him back. The college was Sai Institute. He was terribly upset. He said, “This is the truth. It isn’t right.” He taught multimedia and photography. 

Was your family supportive of Mr. Shankar and yourself after being diagnosed?

First, yes. Second, not so much. I don’t have any of his people by me - if they were to ask me how I am, I would become a liability. His family treats me as a liability. I have friends who work at home, I have a family at my yoga place, and a poetry group, who do not think of me as a liability. They have seen how strong I have been. They did help us financially - they thought that their support ended there, alongside calls inquiring about me. Throughout my friends who have been with us, the domestic help, the neighbours - these are people who have seen what I had gone through every day. 

Would you like us to know anything in particular? Did your tastes in literature change over the course of this journey?

ANS: In 2018, I went through a very severe depression. That was when I started doing mandala art. Shankar stood by me like a rock, and I had suicidal tendencies. Yoga and mandala art helped me. I started writing ferociously. It helped me channel my anger at the time. Now, I write not because I want to channel it - people have suggested that I channel my grief into my art, but I want to feel the grief; make it my strength. I’ve already channelled enough into my writing and my art. 

I’ve noticed that you’re an avid poet and interested in creating Haikus. How has this affected your mental state throughout the years?

ANS: By the way, the plural of Haiku is Haiku. For me, it’s very meditative. It is my favourite form of writing. It allows me to express what I want to, and my poetry style has changed ever since I got into haikus. It is what helps me with my writing. It’s a tool for me to approach higher, deeper poetry forms. It may seem like free verse, but my haiku writing helped me say exactly what I want in as few words as possible, making it even more impactful. 

I’m still trying to process a whole lot of things about death. I’m still struggling because we used to do everything together - for the first time, in all my years of living, I’ve had to lock the front door every day. It’s just the simple things that affect me the most. Something as simple as getting the water delivered or giving my clothes for laundry, getting an amazon parcel. Everything has changed. I have to find ways to keep my life going. 

If a young person like me were to encounter a cancer patient, how should we treat them?

ANS: Treat them with kindness. Make them feel happy. We don’t know why someone gets cancer. All I know is that somewhere, some thought, of “what use is this life”, “Why am I even living”, or “I’m worthless” - that is the most cancerous. 

Would you like to elaborate on the impact that your husband’s diagnoses had on you personally?

ANS. God has given me strength. Yoga has given both of us strength. That is what kept us going. I’m not a religious person, but I am spiritually inclined. I believe in prayer, chanting, and energies. I love festivals because of the joy it brings more than its religious importance. Shankar and I always celebrated each and every festival- it was a celebration of our lives, the chances we were given. Anything could have happened- he could have gone into hospice. His life was worth being celebrated.

I am grieving, but that doesn’t mean that I haven’t accepted that he has gone. I’ll let him go. I was making arrangements to bring him home. They told me that if he were to come home, he might collapse. I would rather he collapsed right at home than being in the ICU and not seeing me. I know that Shankar didn’t want to be there. He kept telling me, “take me and go”. I had to make a choice to keep him for a week, probably on a ventilator, or take a risk by taking him home. He wanted to go home. 

By 3:30 pm, he collapsed. At 3:50, they called me, saying that he was collapsing. I did not cry, I don’t know where I got that strength. I chanted prayers for him by his bedside. His eyes were half closed, and dimming. I did not wait to see his final breath. I did not have the courage for that. If that was his decision, I wouldn’t stop him, but if he chose to return, I would still take care of him. If he chose to move on, then the rest of my life would be lived as fully as possible, so that I could get where he is as freely as possible. I want to live my life so that I am happy, fulfilled, and done with what I need to do. If he chose to come back, I would take care of him in the best way possible. I’m glad he chose to move on, because I didn’t know whether I was capable of taking care of him beyond that point. He probably knew that.

 By 2:30, his oncologist saw him. He was looking at me- I don’t know if he was struggling. My aunt and a few others were there. Despite all this, I lost him in the ICU. It was a good thing, because most of the post-mortem procedures had been taken care of. 

What can we do to make you smile?

ANS: You’ve made me smile already. Just get people out there to choose happiness, to live a happy life, come what may. Suffering is not confined to just a few people. You come into this world through a lot of suffering, so own suffering. No one’s had it good. Each of us goes through something or the other. 

Closing words

Come what may, live life to the fullest. Do what you can. You don’t have to be at your best, but you don’t have to be at your worst every day. Get up every single day, and start doing something. Yesterday, I wanted to go for a walk, and someone suggested that I go to the mall. I said, “No, I want to walk.” I went to a nearby temple that I hadn’t been to since Shankar died. He used to go there almost every day. I didn’t get a car. I must have walked 3000 steps at one go, after a very long time.

When I came home, my legs and knees were aching. I was so blank, like a stone—emotionally I did not know what to do. I had some milk and a fruit and got into bed. I allowed myself to sleep in a little longer. I got up and cooked. After the cooking was done, the maid came in and suggested that I go out and eat. At least it means that I’m doing something. I’m doing something. That’s a healthy life.

I have to be conscious about that. Somewhere during the first month, I asked a friend to send me lunch to school—I was totally aware that I was grieving, and I had to give myself this time to grieve, irrespective of what people said. I’ve heard a whole lot of rushing me on. I am completely aware, because whenever possible, I make healthy choices. Throughout my pain, emotionally or mentally, I have always gone to school. I’ve never taken a day off from work.

I go to class. I try to put in as much effort as possible. It took me a long time to get back to writing; I’m not at full force yet. The last time I wrote something was in January or February. After Shankar’s fifth chemotherapy, I wrote. I’m getting back there in my own time. I show up for friends—wherever possible, I try to make it as complete as it can be. I’m trying to read about grief and find out what other people go through.

I find it very comforting to know that I am not alone. I wish there was more awareness about grief, cancer, and terminal illnesses. Shankar’s was not a terminal cancer. He had hope. I suppose that it was just his time to go.