Yes, His Royal Highness Prince Charles paid a visit to my mum, Gurbaksh Kaur Dhillon, but before I get into that momentous event, let me paint the picture of the British Monarchy as seen by my parents;

• Staunch monarchists sprinkled with the usual love/hate relationship, you know that perpetual tug of war because of Maharajah Duleep Singh was ill treated, and the Raj, oh the Raj!
• The queen, yes we like her.
• The queen mother; she was a nice lady.
• Prince Philip; he must have some Punjabi blue blood in him…speaks his mind too often, no?
• Princess/Lady Diana; her humility and impeccable grace melted both my parents, “look, she has the qualities of an Indian bride, doesn’t she…”
• Prince William; He looks like his Mama, so he must be good?

After being residents of the United Kingdom for over four decades, both my parents are still proud to be affiliated with India, but they are also happy and content to call England their home. It has provided a lot of opportunities for them and their children. The climate of England is perfect as far as my dad is concerned, and the British etiquette is to be commended and practiced, if only India would adopt some of their mannerisms.

Life was moving along at its normal pace, until October 2008, when my mum was diagnosed with cancer, in the final stage, at the age of 59. As you can imagine, the family was taken aback by this; shocked that someone who that had not been ill all her life (even with a common cold), was being told that she had a terminal illness. Chemotherapy take one, was followed by chemotherapy take two, from which we nearly lost her due to blood clotting and other side effects in March 2010. In November of 2010, my mum was told she has 6 weeks to live.

My mum’s final wish was to visit India, her original home, for one last time. She did, and she came back stronger and healthier than she had been for months. Six months later my parents visited the oncologist and asked the question, “It’s been six months, you said six weeks, what now?” Mum was referred to a cancer specialist, a Professor at Warwick University. A new improved chemotherapy was offered, but didn’t begin until after her visit to Canada in June 2011. Chemotherapy take three commenced. What followed next brought mum right back to the brink; she was hospitalized and then moved to a hospice. “There isn’t much more that we can do”, said the doctors and nurses, “she’s in palliative care,” we all knew what that meant!

On Wednesday mum was going to be discharged from the Marie Currie Hospice. Her time there had been a pleasant experience. The facility was immaculate and the care provided was exceptional.  On the day before mum was being discharged the staff notified us that His Royal Highness Prince Charles was going to be at the hospice on Friday for its official opening!

Hearing this mum immediately declared, “I’m not going home, I’m going meet Charlie!” The discharge paperwork had been completed, my wife and my mum spoke to the nurse, who politely said that it was probably too late, since everything had been arranged. Upon further insistence, the nurse agreed to have a word with the Hospice Manager.

Thirty minutes later, the Hospice Manager and nurse come to see my mum.  The Hospice Manager said, “I hear you want to see Prince Charles, Mrs. Dhillon”. My mum nodded an emphatic “yes”.  “Ok then” the Hospice Manager agreed to hold off the discharge until after the Prince’s visit on Friday.

Mum was told that she would be one of the two patients that Prince Charles would personally visit.

Tears began to run down her cheeks.

Now let me put this into context. My mum is one tough lady. She’s been a scrapper and a fighter all her life. The soft emotional Punjabi mother is not the cloth that she was cut from; tears were a rare sight. These tears did not reflect the joy one would feel in anticipation of meeting a celebrity. These tears signified forty years of being in toil and anguish. Decades of being tormented for the way you looked, the color of your skin, the clothes you wore, your accent, and the sense of being inferior the British hung around your neck like a garland of misery, reminding you that this was not your country, and to go back home.

Prince Charles, the heir to the throne of England was going to come and see my mum. He was going to spend time with her. Remember, you can bump into a movie star or someone famous even at the airport, but to spend time with the Royal family was, to quote a cliché, “a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

Prince Charles came in at approximately noon on the Friday and as he entered my mum’s hospice room, he walked over towards her while she was sitting on the reclining chair, eagerly awaiting his arrival. He sat in front of her hospice bed, disregarding the chair that was provided for him, held her hand and asked how she was doing and if the care being provided at the hospice was good.  He then turned to my Dad and asked, “So when did you come from the Punjab?” This was followed by a conversation with each member of the family.

The Prince’s charm and charismatic presence deeply touched the family and hospice staff, leaving them all in awe. The Prince was aware that my mum was going to be discharged on the Wednesday before his arrival, but she had refused to go home in anticipation of meeting him. He said that he felt honored by her wish to meet him.

My mum was discharged from the hospice later that day.  Her spirits were high and her determination to recuperate was even greater.  Two weeks after the Prince’s visit my mum has been registering signs of gradual improvement. She is now taking strolls in her garden and assisting her grandchildren with cooking. The head nurse from the hospice visited, and notified mum that someone from His Royal Highness Prince Charle’s office had called to inquire how Mrs. Dhillon was doing.

Well for the third time, my mum, Mrs. Dhillon, has bounced right back. The term ‘Chardikala’ does come to mind. Not once during her ordeal has she complained or asked the question, “Why me?”

The events that have been described in this story, unfolded in the summer of 2013. Mum is at home and doing well; actually life is quite quaint and delightful atop the cloud on which Prince Charles visit placed my mum.

On behalf of the Dhillon family, we want to say “Thank you, your Highness.”