It was September 2nd, 2019 when my elder kid had a major surgery here in Sydney. It was difficult to manage home and the hospital, but with God’s will and with the help of a few  caring friends, we managed. We brought our daughter back at home on the 4th of September, 2019. I was literally into pieces and wanted to ease off her pain.

Just two days later, on September 6th, 2019, I received a call from my elder brother, breaking the news, one must never hear, about our beloved mother. She had been diagnosed with a rare form of blood cancer a day earlier. The trauma and the agony was so much, that they all took this much time to tell us – the ones who lived far off!

I was already in my lows. The news shook me too hard. Doctors had already forbidden my girl to travel and there was no way I could stop myself from seeing my mother. Ami’s condition was deteriorating with every passing minute. My siblings were sceptical about asking me to come back to Pakistan because nobody knew where my mom’s treatment will start. I, on the other hand, didn’t know what to do. Had no idea as to who will take care of my child. A lot of depression and nagging crawled over my heart. I was shattered.

Now that I’m venting my heart out, just imagine that if you have your loved ones living abroad, this is how they panic when they see something has  gone terribly wrong back home. They lose interest in whatever they are doing; their responsibilities and a call from back home comes head-on-head.

But during those times of utter chaos, a clarity in mind and the inclination of heart truly works. My kid, despite being on her recovery bed, was healing and my mother, on her hospital bed, was dying. The decision, all of a sudden became clearer. I called my cousin ( and I can’t thank her enough for this) to take care of my girl in my absence. It took me a day to book my ticket, cook and freeze food for Zeeshan, get done with the laundry and finally clean my apartment. Yes, I did all this because when you are old and managing a home of your own, leaving is not easy :/

And then it all began.

I was going to see my mother – a 26 hour long journey one must never take!.

There is always a very fine line between being healthy and not healthy. One minute you are fine, and the minute reports come, nothing is right about you.

I took my 18 month old kid with me and left my elder girl with Zeeshan. I had asked him to take care of Aleena like I do.

Australia to Dbx flight is 13+ hours. With 5 hours straight over crossing Australia (yes, the continent is this much big) and then 8 hours on the Indian Ocean. I live so far away. I won’t lie to you. I have thought about my plane crashing a lot of times and dying in the ocean, God forbid. The one thing, I don’t want to do now is flying. It keeps me nervous throughout. And when you are traveling, a whole new day changes. I mean, you fly on 8th and you still reach on 8th because you were already ahead in time and yet, you lose so many hours. Australia is a mystery to me.

Anyway, me travelling with my little girl was as bad as it could be. She didn’t sleep at all on the flight. The only thing she liked about the whole aircraft was the tube light behind the mirrors in the lavatory. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I was in pain, and yet I remained standing in front of the lavatory throughout my 14 hour journey. For this one particular trip, I really wish, for Emirates to reimburse all my money that I had paid for the seat. Because I never used it and travelled while standing.

But the good part, a bit good part, on this journey was the kind people I met and kept talking to, while I was standing. It’s a long haul, so people keep walking and stretching all the time. I met some wonderful people. There were many good people, who actually wept for my mother, because I was sad. They had all the nice things to say to me. Humanity, in all its glory, was at its peak. I will never forget their faces. All they had was kindness.

After landing at Dbx, I had to wait for another 4 hours to catch my next flight to Lahore. When the plane was crossing over Karachi to reach Dbx, my heart kept yelling please drop me here. It will take me another 10 hours to get back to this point again. But nobody was meant to listen to this.

Spending time at the airport, when you really don’t want to, could be classified as another level of misery.

When I finally reached Lahore, it was 3 at night. Those who came to receive me, politely asked me to go home straight, take a rest and then go to the hospital to see the only person I had wanted to see and touch throughout this painful journey. A lot of anger and frustration gushed over my heart. I couldn’t wait any longer.  I couldn’t imagine any delay. I wanted to go straight to the hospital – with visitor hours in place or not in place. I cared less.

She was on the eighth floor. The lift was taking more time than I could bear.

It was a moment of truth for me, when I literally ran to her room – opened it and went straight over her bed. It was perhaps 4 at night. She was sitting, had lost her senses and was waiting for me.

Me – the youngest child of hers. She had always told me that no matter how old I would be, I will always be her little girl. We had some great memories together.

When I greeted her, she started giggling like a small girl. She was super happy, was talking in pieces, making no sense at all, but was at least talking to me. Her wait was over – and so was mine. I told her that this is not the way to summon kids who live far away, I told her that next time, she better find a good reason to call me home.

As soon as she was diagnosed, she got meningitis and it took away her short-term memory. I was not allowed to touch her. My eyes kept clinging on to her, wanting to touch every inch of her skin, love her – giving her assurance that she will be alright…

It is an irony that the only good cancer hospital of Pakistan, Shaukat Khanum, doesn’t take patients who are over 60 years of age, due to having limited capacity and resources. That poor soul, my mother, had only turned 60 a couple of months ago. And sadly, was not admitted.

Now we are living in 21st century and what a shame it is, that even if we have resources and the financial capacity, we can’t buy good treatment for our loved ones. Its kills my heart knowing that while typing this, there are a lot many people who are still denied a treatment for one reason or another.

This cannot be an end of a human life.

The hospital, where she was in, had also refused any further treatment for her. They told us to either take her home or put her on a ventilator. We just didn’t accept this without giving her a chance to fight. We refused putting her on a ventilator. God, it was happening so fast.

Pakistan is a funny country. There, everyone is in a rush to push the button of ‘outcome’. Yet, nobody takes the responsibility of their deed. The hospital kept on forcing us to put her on the venti. We weren’t agreeing. Can you believe who took full responsibility of any outcome (at least on the paper) while the hospital was having a negotiation with us?

Me!

Actually, it was my mother’s will. Even when she was healthy, she had asked us not to put her on ventilator. She didn’t want death to linger on.

It was a miracle that she snapped back and fought with her illness bravely. She was better within a week and the hospital discharged her. As for her cancer treatment, it was on us where to put her next. With Shaukat Khanum gone, Lahore was now out from our list.

A week later, she came home with a  healthy mind. She had gained back her senses. Later on, she never recalled that night when I had met her. But it doesn’t matter. Her smile and body language and whatever she told me will always be enough for me to keep her in my thoughts.

Every single nurse and staff member greeted me really well. They told me that when my mother was ‘gone’ mentally, she kept asking everybody as to when I would come? They all knew my name because, despite having all her children, she knew I was away and needed to be with her. This gives me a lot of pain every time I think about this.

I stayed with my mother for another week. My family was planning their next step. Ami was gaining back her health, at least on the surface level. She never cried, once, upon hearing about her illness. She was quiet and composed.

“My ami was genuinely sad to know that I had left behind an ailing child to see her. When her senses were gone, all she could think about was meeting me. And when she sobered, all she could worry about was the well-being of my children. She asked me multiple times that leaving behind my child was not okay. God, that day I understood a fraction of motherhood.”

I recall, with all purity of my thought, a very good bond that I shared with my mother. I never touched her throughout the trip. We were not supposed to. As her immune system was gone and any germ, from our side, would have been fatal. But on the day of my departure, she not only left her room and came at the main gate but also hugged me!

I came back to Sydney with a heavy heart. I was literally split between my daughter and my mother but I knew what to choose under what condition.

She got her full treatment from a private hospital in Islamabad. She was cancer-free for almost two months before it came back again and took her to the ultimate Creator on 14th May, 2020.

This will remain my most honest memoir of the journey that I took in pain for her.

I came back to Pakistan with my whole family  in February 2020 to see her cancer-free. I stayed with her throughout. My flight kept getting cancelled and thankfully I got all the time in the world to spend with her. God had a lot better plan for me. I saw her healthy, I saw her deteriorating. I was holding her hand when she was leaving. I gave her the final bath. God wanted it to be this way – so it happened that way.

I will miss her always.