I was born and raised in Kathmandu, Nepal, where life was deeply intertwined with nature. Meditation, yoga, mountain walks, and cold river dips were part of my daily routine. My diet revolved around fresh, homegrown organic food, which I cultivated in my garden. These habits gifted me good health and a youthful vigor. Compliments about looking years younger than my actual age were common, filling me with joy and satisfaction.
In 2010, I moved to the United States to help care for my youngest daughter’s first baby. Over time, my wife and I decided to settle here, as all three of our children had made this country their home. For nearly a decade, I continued to enjoy good health, bolstered, I believe, by the strength I brought from my homeland.
However, in the past three years, my health began to decline. I started losing weight in mid-2022, and my family grew concerned. Initially, we thought it was just age catching up with me. Then, three falls in 2023, followed by persistent rashes and mouth sores, signaled deeper issues. Despite these signs, I continued to dismiss the symptoms, as my body functions seemed otherwise normal. But as the sores worsened and bleeding occurred, it became clear something was wrong.
The journey to a diagnosis was long. I visited a dermatologist, then a gastroenterologist (GI), and eventually a hematologist. Finally, at Novant Health Cancer Institute in Winston-Salem, NC, a bone marrow biopsy confirmed the diagnosis: multiple myeloma, a cancer of plasma cells.
This was a life-altering moment. The literature painted a grim picture—untreated, multiple myeloma could cause organ failures, affecting the heart, kidneys, and nervous system. Despite the severity of the disease, my case was unique. I hadn’t yet suffered any organ damage, which I took as a small blessing.
At 88 years old, I had to make a difficult decision about treatment. The doctors were divided. Some argued against chemotherapy due to my age, while others believed it was necessary. Ultimately, I chose to fight. Reflecting on the inevitability of death, I chose to battle the disease with all the strength I could muster. I thought of the words of the Holy Geeta: “Jatashya Dhurbor Mrityu”—death is certain for those who are born. With this truth in mind, I signed the consent for chemotherapy, embracing the challenge ahead.
The treatment process was grueling. I underwent two head surgeries to address internal bleeding, but they were unsuccessful. A third, more complex surgery brought some relief, but it was excruciating. Chemotherapy began shortly after, and while I tolerated the first cycle well, the second cycle pushed me to my limits. I experienced hallucinations and periods of unconsciousness, losing control of my body and mind.
During this time, I became entirely dependent on others. Tied to machines, with wires, IVs, and catheters, I was like a baby once again. My limbs failed me, and simple tasks were impossible without assistance. I was fortunate to have my family by my side—my wife, children, in-laws, and grandchildren rotated shifts to care for me day and night. Seeing patients in nearby hospital rooms suffering alone, waiting for help, made me realize how truly blessed I was to have such a support system.
One evening, I slipped into a coma. My daughters’ cries of “Buwa! Buwa!” (Papa! Papa!) echoed around me, but I couldn’t respond. In that unconscious state, I saw visions of Nepalese deities shielding me from a dark tunnel where others stood in a queue. At the threshold of death, I felt an extraordinary force pulling me back. When I regained consciousness, I knew I had been given a second chance at life.
My recovery was not just a medical feat but a triumph of willpower, faith, and community. Through meditation and yoga, I had cultivated an inner strength that helped me endure. As Khaptad Baba wrote in Bichar Bigyan (The Science of Thought): “If a person loses hope, every attempt becomes futile, and even the best medicine cannot deliver results.” This belief carried me through the darkest times.
Above all, I was blessed to have an exceptional doctor, Dr. Jan S. Moreb, a hematologist and oncologist with over 25 years of experience treating multiple myeloma. His compassion and expertise gave me confidence. He provided his personal contact number, ensuring we could reach him anytime, which proved invaluable during critical moments.
As I reflect on my journey, I am filled with gratitude. Life has taught me that we can plan for the future, but the outcomes are beyond our control. As the Geeta reminds us, we can only perform our duties without attachment to the results.
At 88, I realize that surviving this deadliest illness is not just my fight—it is a message of hope and resilience for others. My story is a testament to the fact that age is just a number when it comes to courage and determination. I hope it inspires those battling illnesses to never lose hope. Life, even in its fragility, is a gift.
It takes a village not only to raise a child but also to bring a sick person back from the brink. My recovery would not have been possible without the collective effort of my family, friends, neighbors, and the dedicated medical team at Novant Health.
Each day I wake up is a gift, a chance to cherish my family and the moments we share. My journey against myeloma has shown me the strength of the human spirit, the importance of community, and the beauty of life itself.
