The evening traffic crept along, a familiar, weary chorus of horns, distant murmurs and frustrated ‘sighs’. My gaze drifted to the car beside me, catching sight of a familiar emblem on its windshield – the one I’d seen almost daily for years: two snakes entwined around a staff. “Why snakes?” I wondered aloud, a quiet question into the bus’ stale air, earning a curious glance from my co-passenger. “Why couldn’t it be angels, instead?”

Of course, there’s no arguing with history, or with Hermes. But still, the image always made me pause, even when my own life felt like a tangle of its own complexities.

Just then, my phone buzzed. I pulled it from my pocket, a little jolt of anticipation. The reply email. My eyes raced through the words, searching for that one phrase. And there it was, simple and warm - “Hi Ganesh! Are you available for the months of May & June?” The irony wasn’t lost on me – from a small, everyday wonder about a doctor’s symbol, to the possibility of actually working alongside one of the most respected figures in oncology, whose vision, as I would soon discover, stretched far, far beyond the conventional.

Since the first of May, my life has felt like a vibrant, unexpected roller coaster. It has swept me into a whirlwind of new faces, surprising experiences, and, most profoundly, into a part of life’s intricate design I’d barely known existed. This unexpected journey has brought me closer to the very heart of human experience, a tapestry where threads of joy, sorrow, triumph and despair are woven together, revealing a unique and sacred space – the world of cancer care. As an English teacher, this path has, in its own quiet way, offered me a profound education in humanity, in the quiet strength of resilience, and in the relentless, beautiful pursuit of hope.

My admiration for the medical community, especially those devoted to oncology, has simply blossomed. In particular, spending time working alongside and observing my short term mentor has been a truly eye-opening experience.

Beyond his incredible expertise, my mentor is a true visionary. He doesn’t just see diseases; he sees how to lighten life’s heavy burdens, not just for those affected, but for everyone around them too. The respect he commands from everyone – his patients and their worried families, each member of his dedicated team, the medical representatives, his colleagues both near and far, the brightest minds in the field and beyond, and the intricate world of research and development in oncology, is well deserved.

I have intimately witnessed the agonising dilemmas that families face. A profound, aching truth. This understanding began forming young, having watched two very dear family members battle cancer, when I was a teenager and when I was a tad older. Even then, what truly gripped me were the quiet struggles of the relatives and those standing by, more than the patients themselves. I knew it was a costly affair, but the true why behind it remained a mystery. This grasp of reality deepened later, refined during my time at a renowned medical institution and then profoundly expanded during this short period with my current mentor. Back at that institution, I remember countless days on the oncology floor. Waves of people would arrive outside the doctor’s door – anxious parents with their fragile children, troubled relatives, individuals burdened by a million unspoken worries. Waiting. Always waiting. Waiting for those few words from the doctor’s mouth that could feel like magic, or like a heavy stone. Back then, I simply couldn’t grasp why cancer felt like such a pervasive ‘hype’, why so many lives were touched by its relentless grip.

But one moment, one specific scene, remains so stark. Unforgettable!

I was at the specialist’s clinic, waiting to record his video message. A family sat there—in silence, in shock. Their faces were etched with a mix of despair and resignation. Slowly, they rose. The air around them was thick with words untold. “The cost,” their silent gaze screamed. “An insurmountable wall”. This raw helplessness. The swirling wave of emotional ups and downs. The crushing indecisiveness. The sheer, overwhelming difficulty of making a life-altering decision when every fiber of your being is under immense pressure.

These are burdens I’ve seen countless families bravely grapple with. The foresight, the almost impossible vision, needed to navigate this labyrinth of medical options and financial tightropes is immense. For many, it is a battle they enter with an already depleted arsenal. It shines a light on a truth often overlooked: for those less privileged, simply reaching the point of a consultation can demand an incredible, quiet courage.

Some of these brave, less privileged souls, faced with the crushing weight of financial strain, sometimes make the heart-wrenching decision to abandon treatment plans altogether. They choose, instead, to quietly await their ‘fate’. This is a tremendously bold, almost unfathomable decision, perhaps incomprehensible to the Gen Alpha, whose lives and emotions often exist in a virtual realm, far removed from such raw, tangible realities. But this is precisely where the true magic of a doctor comes into play.

The 21st-century doctor doesn’t just write prescriptions; they see YOU. They understand your family, your life story, your symptoms, your deepest fears, your financial worries. And with that comprehensive understanding, they meticulously craft a path for you, aiming for a cure not just for your health, but, as much as humanly possible, for your financial well-being too.

Indeed, “Health is wealth” is a proverb we so often take for granted. I must confess my own youthful ignorance of this profound truth in many moments of my life. Yet, in the hushed corridors of hospitals, the phrase echoes with a chilling accuracy. Working alongside these dedicated medical professionals and within these institutions, I have witnessed heartbreaking scenes of individuals ready to sacrifice everything they own, and even what they desperately don’t, just to keep a loved one by their side. The raw desperation to cling to every precious moment, the willingness, the sheer readiness to incur unimaginable debt, paints such a poignant, powerful picture of love in the face of overwhelming adversity. It’s a stark, painful reminder of how fragile our existence truly is, and the priceless, undeniable value of simply being well.

This stark, piercing reminder has become the profound takeaway from my brief time with my current mentor. I am now, quite literally, sending heartfelt good luck and quiet prayers to everyone I am connected with, to every soul I meet, and even to an unknown stranger if I see them shivering amidst the harsh, recurring monsoons. This, I’ve realised, is the intricate beauty of life I’ve now been introduced to—seeing the world through entirely different eyes. I feel myself transforming from an often insensitive individual, into someone more open-minded, more forgiving, and, most importantly, profoundly thankful. I know that given today’s lifestyles and habits, I might not live to 93, like my grandmother, or even my late 60s, like my parents. But with every precious day I am blessed with, I want to make it truly count.

My experiences have truly prompted me to look closely at our everyday lives. We live in an era where “road rage” has become a common, almost accepted, sickness. Healthy individuals, brimming with vitality, suddenly give in to senseless anger, leading to tragic, utterly avoidable deaths. It’s as if rage itself has turned into a disease, slowly consuming our very humanity. Our emotions seem to have shrunk, with anger, rage and anxiety dominating our interactions. This is an unsettling paradox that genuine smiles and unrestrained happiness often feel more present in the artificial world of social media smileys and reactions than in our actual daily lives. We are, sadly, losing touch with what it means to simply be human, to offer a kind word, or to patiently share a moment.

In this fast-paced world, powered by amazing technology, the human touch remains absolutely central. I am profoundly thankful, for instance, to AI, for making the very crafting of this piece so much easier and more comfortable, for helping me articulate my thoughts and prove my point. Yet, for all its wonders, my own newly understood saying goes, “To err is human, to error is AI.” This isn’t to suggest one is inherently better than the other. I’ve been exposed firsthand to just how incredibly complex the world of oncology truly is.

Imagine a highly sophisticated AI, fed vast amounts of patient genetic data and treatment results. It might recommend a very specific drug combination based on what the statistics suggest. But what if that data came mostly from a group of people with a unique genetic makeup, one that isn’t shared by a new patient? Then, the AI's ‘perfect’ suggestion could actually lead to a treatment error. Similarly, a human doctor, despite their immense knowledge, might make a crucial decision based on subtle, almost unnoticeable cues from a patient that an AI might miss, or perhaps, they might overlook a rare drug interaction. My point here is - let’s not find some flawless entity, but deeply understand that both human minds and artificial intelligence, for all their strengths, can make mistakes because of the information they work with and the context they operate in. We simply must let go of the idea that anything, human or machine, is truly perfect.

Yet, it is only a 21st-century doctor—the one who gently, meticulously outlines a plan just for you, as I mentioned earlier; the doctor whose thinking embraces both sharp intellect and deep empathy; the learned doctor who even invites you to compare their insights with Google’s vast offerings—who will ultimately make the most truly fitting decision for a patient. We may see countless accusing fingers on social media, in movies, or across the fleeting ‘reel world’, pointing out alleged malpractices or painting doctors as ‘deviled humans’. But such stories often spring from a place of deliberate malice, fueled by greed and a profound unkindness towards humanity. While I don’t personally use the term ‘human God’, I am, without a doubt, witnessing the presence of such compassionate and dedicated individuals through doctors, and not just oncologists, in their unwavering, heartfelt commitment to healing and care.

Perhaps the deepest lesson I have carried away from these observations is the profound, urgent need to slow down. To truly see the world around us. To consciously reconnect with the simple joys, the genuine connections, and those quiet moments of contentment that so often slip away in our relentless chase for more.

In a world that constantly pushes us forward, the raw, honest stories from the cancer ward—of fierce battles fought, fragile hopes cherished, and lives lived to the fullest, no matter how brief—serve as a powerful, beautiful reminder to cherish each present moment, to embrace our shared humanity, and to feel truly content with the precious blessings we already hold.