Amidst the chaos of the COVID-19 pandemic, when the world was gripped by fear and confusion, a different storm was silently approaching our lives. While people were battling with infections and lockdowns, we found ourselves facing something unexpected—Raman’s health had started showing subtle signs of trouble.
It began with something that seemed minor—slightly elevated creatinine levels in his routine reports. Since we were living in Ludhiana, a city known for advanced medical care, we consulted local doctors. Their response gave us temporary comfort: “It’s not a major issue. Just a reaction to stress or irregular routine. A course of medication for 15–20 days should stabilize everything.”
Raman began his medicines, and within a week, his reports improved. We were relieved, hopeful, and eager to move past it. But alongside the treatment, Raman also consulted Shera Baba, a religious mentor he respected deeply. What he heard next shook us both—Baba claimed it was not just a health issue, but the result of black magic.
My father echoed the same belief. It was hard to digest. Why would anyone wish to harm us? We were just an ordinary couple living a simple life. What had we done to deserve such negativity?
Unfortunately, that brief period of relief was short-lived. Just when we thought things were back to normal, Raman’s creatinine levels spiked again. This time, the fluctuations were unpredictable—one week it would drop, the next it would shoot up again. Confusion began to replace calm.
We couldn’t take chances anymore. We decided to consult a specialist at Fortis Hospital. Raman, always the brave one, insisted on going alone. He said, “There’s nothing serious, I’ll go, get tested and come back.” I didn’t want him to go alone, but I respected his strength and agreed.
Hours later, Raman walked into my office with a heavy face but a composed tone. He handed me the reports. My heart sank. The numbers didn’t match the man I saw—he looked healthy, was active, and yet the reports screamed danger. His creatinine and cholesterol levels were alarmingly high. The doctors didn’t hesitate—they recommended an immediate kidney transplant.
We were stunned. How could this be real? There were no visible symptoms. No pain. No weakness. Just a man full of life… now suddenly told that his kidneys were failing.
It was the beginning of a battle we never saw coming.
Reflection – Raman’s courage during this phase still echoes in my heart. While the world feared COVID, we were dealing with a deeper, more personal war. Watching his reports change overnight taught me how fragile the illusion of stability is. One day you’re planning dinner, the next day you’re reading creatinine levels. Yet Raman never let fear dominate—he stood like a pillar, holding me even when he was the one needing support. And I? I kept telling myself that it’s just a phase… not knowing that denial was the only coping mechanism I had left.
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