Content Warning: Cancer
It's usually the adrenaline from cardio which gets my heartbeat high at the gym. But on this day, it was something else which got my heart beating fast. Something I never would have seen coming. I started my day like any other. On most days, I woke up, hit the gym, attended my classes, and repeated this day after day. Everything was smooth and repetitive. I started this day like any other. It was a 'normal' day, and I stepped out to go to the gym again. Since my dad had a small stomach infection, I expected my parents to arrive from the doctor soon after my workout. At the gym, I got the treadmill started at the speed of nine and shortly after, I started my set of squats.
Glancing at the mirror, I noticed a man approaching me. He came to the gym regularly. Although I never spoke to him considering he was probably in his fifties, I remember him talking to my dad at the gym. I assumed they were friends. He was always at the gym the same time I was, but we never talked. The most we’ve said to each other is “How many reps do you have left?” or “Are you using this machine?”
I noticed him by the silhouette in the mirror which presented a strongly built, bald man with fair skin and eyes that looked even bigger with the small mask that he wore. As he approached me, he gave me a nod which silently said hello. I nodded back in response.
“How’s your dad?” He asked with a soft tone in his voice as he walked up to me. I couldn't imagine such a soft tone coming from such a tough exterior. I replied with “Yea, he's doing good,” with a clueless smile, wondering why he looked so concerned.
Then this man, who I never thought would spark such a turning point in my life, asked me a question that sent a shiver down my spine.
“How is his chemo going?”
Before I completely let myself understand what he was implying, I replied immediately “it’s good-”.
I froze. I paused to comprehend the fact that this unknown man just asked about my dad’s chemotherapy. A million questions rushed through my mind.
Did I hear that correctly?
“Chemotherapy?”
Like the treatment process for cancer patients?
Does daddy have cancer?
What type? What stage? Is it fatal?
I slowly pieced everything together and that’s when I understood why my parents have been going to the hospital everyday for the past month. Or why my mum goes everywhere with my dad. Whether it was for his work or another doctor’s appointment for his ‘mild sickness’ that I only ever thought was a long lasting stomach infection. In the midst of me understanding why things had been so off lately, I was also shattered. It broke me completely to think that the same man who puts a smile on my face everyday, is suffering. And it broke me to think that my mum had to go through taking care of him all alone. But it also broke me completely to think that my parents would sit and listen to me complain about the most minor and insignificant problems I faced either at school or with my friends when they were going through something so serious. The man that stood in front of me at the gym knew he revealed something I wasn't aware of just by the look on my face - he could tell I was startled. Before I could ask any questions, he apologized and walked out of the gym, realizing the big mistake he had made.
My parents have been separated for a very long time. Even though they lived under the same roof, they would never talk or acknowledge each other.
Now they do.
I’ve never asked myself why. When he had a major knee surgery, she wasn't this supportive. And when he used to fall ill from seasonal sickness, she wasn’t this supportive. But I never took a moment to stop and think ‘So, why now?’
My mum had lost a lot of weight over the past two months. She wouldn't eat as much during dinner. Her clothes were now too big and loose for her petite body. Every time I looked at her, it seemed like she was stressed about something. On most days, she had this look on her face that made her seem concerned and just terrified. As if she was terrified of something bad happening. It didn’t make sense to me then. But it makes sense to me now. I understood why they hid it from my siblings and I; they didn’t want us to be stressed and they wanted us to focus on our studies. Although I showed a strong exterior, they know that deep down it would have affected me the most. Besides that, my younger sister had her final examinations in the coming year and my parents couldn’t have her being distracted. I still held a little anger that they kept it a secret from me. All this time I could have been a shoulder for my mother to cry on.
But she didn’t let me. And I understood why.
My father has always been a ray of sunshine. He would make jokes on a daily basis to make the family laugh and despite his harsh childhood and a failed marriage, he always seemed happy and was very loud around the house. The clock wouldn’t even strike 8am before he would blast loud Persian music and start singing to turn up everyone’s mood in the mornings. Although we all hated the unnecessarily loud music, it was wholesome that he put effort into making our days positive and lively, and we were so used to it at this point that we wouldn't have a good day if he didn't entertain us on the breakfast table.
Funnily enough, even after he fell ill, he hadn’t changed a bit.
I opened the door of our apartment and entered the living room, followed the hallway which seemed longer than usual, that led to my parent’s bedroom. As I stepped in, I saw my dad, who was wearing a grey fluffy jacket with a black beanie despite the summer’s heat. He looked up at me and the first thing I noticed was how incredibly happy he looked. His smile grew bigger as he noticed me in the room.
“Salaam” he said, meaning ‘hello’ in Farsi.
I tilted my head to look up at my mum who was standing right next to him. She had her arms around his shoulders.
I began to cry.