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Supporting family with cancer from abroad is something my youngest sister Pratibha knew more about than anyone. Thousands of miles away in Canada, she found her own way to be there
We grew up in Jinja, Bugerere, Iganga, and then Kampala. It always felt as though we were settling somewhere just as it was time to leave again. That is how life was then, following my father’s work. Keeping long-term friendships was difficult, and it was not always easy, especially as we got older and they began to matter more.
Kampala was where we stayed the longest. Pratibha was seven then, and Jitu about three. We lived among sixteen families, and it felt like a small community. There were always children around, always something going on. Looking back now, I think those were simpler days, although we didn’t realise it at the time.
That chapter ended abruptly. Idi Amin saw to that. In June 1972, we arrived in Leicester and started again. Pratibha and Jitu went to school, while I began work that September. Little did I know then that I would spend the next fifty years in employment — seven in Leicester and the rest, after I got married, in London.
Between 1977 and 1979, Bipin, Pratibha, and I all got married, which took us to three different cities, all in the London area. When I think about it now, I notice something curious. Kampala, Leicester, London — there always seemed to be a seven-year pattern to our lives. I wonder sometimes if it means something, or whether it is just the way things fell.
Supporting Family With Cancer From Abroad
In 1989, Pratibha emigrated to Canada with her husband and son. A new venture, a new life. The distance between us grew, but the connection never did. It was a brave decision — leaving everything familiar behind to build a new life from scratch. Canada became her home, and she built a good life there. But distance has a way of making itself felt most sharply at the hardest moments.
Years passed, as they do.
When I was diagnosed with cancer, Pratibha was thousands of miles away. That distance felt very real at the time. I also knew she was not well herself. I had seen that when I visited her in 1993 with my wife and children. She was in hospital then, seriously ill with kidney failure. From that point on, her health became something she had to manage and live with every day. Over the years she endured long periods on dialysis before eventually receiving a kidney transplant. It took great courage and patience, and she bore it quietly.
Because of all that, travelling to the UK to see me was simply not possible, and I understood completely. But she never stopped being there in the ways she could.
She would call. Sometimes just for a few minutes. Sometimes longer. Just to ask how I was.
It is difficult to explain what that meant at the time. When you are dealing with something like cancer, your mind goes in all directions. But hearing her voice would steady things, even if only for a short while. Distance suddenly felt smaller. The worries eased. You are reminded that you are not facing things alone.
She had her own battles to deal with, and I knew that. But that never came before thinking of me and my family. That was just how she was.
Looking back now, I realise that it was not about what she could or couldn’t do.
It was simply that she was there.
And in those days, that was enough.
For anyone supporting family with cancer from abroad, Pratibha’s story will feel familiar.
For anyone supporting a loved one through cancer from a distance, the Canadian Cancer Society offers guidance and resources at cancer.ca.
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