My Sister Priya

Priya as everyone knew her, was my soulmate. As a little girl, she already knew what being an older sister meant. At a young age she was diagnosed with kidney disease but didn't let it slow her down. As teenagers we moved to America and became more protective of each other because all we had was each other. She was my best friend. Priya taught me all I know of life. Love, joy, kindness. And more so in the last few months, courage, strength, loss and despair. I recently read We experience pain so that we may live, without pain we die – well, my sister experienced pain and she lived. Every single day, she lived. She gave of herself to her family, her patients and to all those who touched her life. She traveled, she enjoyed good food, she laughed and she loved. She completed me. Last year Priya was diagnosed with lymphoma, a complication of long term immunotherapy for her chronic kidney disease. In her soft way, she said to me that she couldn’t be upset, because the same medications  had given her an opportunity to live her life.  Always bright, always sharp, always hopeful. She went for her chemotherapy, went through all of it, lost her hair, was weak and tired but her spirit was never crushed. No one could take that away from her. The rest of us struggled. Watching such a beautiful person go through so much pain, seemed unfair and we all found ourselves asking why. Priya never asked those questions, she was present in the moment and lived life on her own terms. She appreciated medicine and it’s role in her life. She was grateful to her doctors, and every day worked at emulating those that cared for her. Soon after she was declared to be cancer free, she developed neurological symptoms. She quickly lost consciousness. More chemotherapy but my sister did not wake up.

She was unique, much wiser than others her age. Maybe chronic illness and the responsibility towards self did that to her, for her. She loved everything from the 60s, woodstock, the Beatles, big hair and bell bottoms. She loved John Lennon. The music therapist in the hospital had sang “imagine” for Priya when she was conscious, she sat in the bed, tears flowing down her face. She was moved by the singer’s voice and as always by the lyrics. A different music therapist sang the same song when she was unconscious in the palliative care department, this time tears ran down my face. Could she hear it? I have tried to describe what she meant to me. The word love doesn’t cut it. It was so much deeper.

This foundation has been created to carry forward Priya's love for medicine. The goal is to use the funds raised from our annual event to put into development of research and education for those who work tirelessly on medical education and advancements and for those that do so while caring for patients with compassion, dignity and respect like my beautiful sister.

-Anusuiya