The Next Big Decision

The diagnosis had finally come.

Osteosarcoma.

I knew the word. But I didn't know what it meant.

At that point, I had no idea that osteosarcoma was bone cancer. In my head, it was simply the name of a disease — something that could be treated, something I would eventually recover from.

I wasn't thinking about cancer. I didn't even know I was supposed to.

The next big question for my family was much more practical: Where do we go from here?

This was the first time anyone in my family had encountered something like this. We had no experience with the disease, no idea which hospital was best, and no clear understanding of what treatment was going to look like.

So we started asking people. We consulted different people, gathered whatever information we could, and initially thought we would continue my treatment in Mumbai.

Then came an interesting suggestion.

Someone told us that with a disease like this, emotional support was extremely important. Yes, Mumbai might have excellent treatment, but Delhi would also have the medical facilities we needed — and there was one major advantage.

Delhi was closer to home.

If I was in Delhi, I could potentially come home between treatments. I could be around my family more often. And perhaps being close to home would give me the emotional support I needed to heal.

Looking back now, I sometimes wonder if there was another reason things worked out that way.

Maybe, somehow, even God wanted my first memories of Mumbai to be different.

Because Mumbai would eventually become the city I loved the most.

A few years later, in 2020, I would clear JEE Advanced and get into IIT Bombay. I still remember the feeling of landing in Mumbai for the first time — not as a patient going to a hospital, but as a student beginning a completely new chapter of my life.

So perhaps it was better that my first memories of Mumbai weren't treatment rooms and hospital corridors.

Perhaps Mumbai was meant to become something else for me.

And so, we chose Delhi.

After speaking to people and considering our options, we decided on the hospital where I would begin my treatment: Rajiv Gandhi Cancer Institute and Research Centre.

Before we went for the consultation, there was one more decision.

For the first consultation, only my father and I would go. My mother and my sister would stay back at home.

Everyone was confused. Everyone was trying to understand what had just happened and what we were supposed to do next.

It was a heavy night. I still remember it.

The next morning, I woke up and took a shower. We packed a bag, put it in the car, and got ready to leave.

Before leaving, I hugged my mother and my sister.

And strangely, I wasn't particularly anxious.

Looking back, I think the reason was simple: I still didn't understand what osteosarcoma was. I didn't know what was waiting for me. I just knew that I had a disease, and we were going to Delhi to get it treated.

My father and I left for Delhi.

When we reached Rajiv Gandhi Cancer Institute and Research Centre, the hospital felt completely different from anything I had experienced before.

There were so many patients. So many people moving around.

The sheer number of people there made the place feel strange and unfamiliar to me.

We went directly to the pediatric ward, completed the registration and got our number for the consultation.

Then we went in to see the doctor.

The doctor went through all my reports.

And then I found out something that, at the time, didn't seem nearly as significant as it actually was.

My treatment was starting that day.

I was going to be admitted.

That was it.

In my head, the plan was incredibly simple.

I'd get admitted. I'd get treated for osteosarcoma. A few days would pass. I'd get better. And eventually, I'd go back home and everything would be normal again.

I had no idea what was waiting for me.