Page 138 - A Life Well-Lived Is a Beautiful Memory

The Measure of a Man
In March 2005, a tiny blood vessel burst in my brain, thrusting Bhanu into the unexpected

role of caregiver. His days became a whirlwind of juggling my care with his academic duties.
Mornings began with breakfast preparation, medication administration, and blood pressure checks
before he rushed to work. Afternoons were hurried homecomings for dinner prep, grocery runs,
and three weekly trips to my various specialists. Sundays were reserved for church, offering

spiritual nourishment. When I returned to work five years later, “personal driver” became another
invisible line on his resume.
Despite the immense time commitment, Bhanu excelled. He became Dean of the Economics
Faculty, published scholarly papers, attended international conferences, and continued teaching.

When I regained strength, he took me to some of these conferences, embracing the inconveniences
of navigating with a hemiplegic partner.
Fourteen years later, in 2019, we celebrated our 40th anniversary amidst the cherry blossoms
and splendor of Hakone, Japan. It was also Bhanu’s retirement year, filled with dreams of book

writing and globetrotting. But, as the saying goes, “We make plans, God laughs.”
The year 2020 brought the double blow of the COVID-19 pandemic and, in October,
Bhanu’s chilling diagnosis of prostate cancer, foreshadowing a horrifying nightmare. Radiation
and hormone therapy followed, wreaking havoc on his digestion and causing constant rectal

bleeding, nausea, fatigue, and weight loss. True to his nature, Bhanu rarely complained, expressing
discomfort through witty comics or funny pictures of someone getting kicked in the butt.
Despite the daily struggle, our life continued with normalcy. Bhanu embraced “house-
husband” duties, even learning to be my hairdresser and seamstress. Confined by COVID-19, our

daily pranks became our source of fun. I, the playful aggressor, launched attacks everywhere, while
Bhanu parried with mock indignation, channeling Churchill: “You ambush me in the doorway, the
bathroom, the laundry area, and the dining room, while I’m cooking, in the shower, even when
I’m sleeping!” Then both of us would end up in fits of laughter.

By mid-2022, the laughter waned. Sneak attacks and funny messages dwindled as the
radiotherapy’s brutal side effects took hold. Bhanu, weakened and fatigued, could no longer drive
but continued his house-husband duties meticulously.
Amidst the bleakness, an invitation to the Asian Economic Panel meeting in Seoul offered

a welcome respite. The meeting invigorated him, and upon his return, he excitedly planned our
Tokyo trip in spring 2023 and started outlining another book on the Thai economy. While he
wrote, I dreamt of cherry blossoms dancing like rain in Ueno Park. Then, the nightmare returned,
darker and more horrifying.

Ten days after Seoul, we both contracted COVID-19, likely from my Manila trip coinciding
with his. Though our infections were mild, Bhanu’s persistent nausea worsened. Two hospital
visits yielded nothing, but a private hospital delivered the devastating verdict: stage 4 pancreatic
cancer.

138 A Life Well-Lived Is a Beautiful Memory