Page 184 - Till the Last Breath . . .
P. 184

‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘for saving me. Had it not been for you, I might

                have been dead.’
                   ‘See! I told you, what’s not to be happy? And thank you. By the way,
                that’s what room-mates do! They have each other’s back!’ The excitement

                and the effervescence in her voice were back.
                   ‘We aren’t room-mates. We are in a hospital ward. And no, we are not

                supposed to have each other’s backs. If the doctors were good enough here,
                which they are clearly not, we wouldn’t need each other. How could they

                not get it … And you did? That smart-ass Dr Arman—’
                   ‘Hey!’ she interrupted. ‘Dare you say anything against Arman! He is a

                good doctor! And my diagnosis was just a guess. I was lucky.’
                   ‘Why are you defending them? Had they been smart enough, they would
                have got it! And luck? How can you leave a patient’s life to luck? Isn’t that

                why they spend seven years in medical school? To not rely on luck and
                learn something?!’

                   ‘Listen, you’re going too far,’ she said angrily. ‘I told you, it was hard to
                diagnose. It doesn’t come out in any test and it’s a one-in-a-million case!

                And with you, who has abused his body to the limit, it was even harder!’
                   Her sudden change in voice almost caught him off guard but he was in no

                mood to relent.
                   ‘Don’t put it on me now. Just because I have a body which is dying
                doesn’t mean the doctors will try and do everything else to kill me sooner!’

                   ‘They were not trying to kill you!’ she argued.
                   ‘All the evidence points to the contrary. I broke my arm, my kidneys are

                shot, and so is my liver. I bled out like I was pissing after getting drunk! I
                think they did everything possible to make sure I died,’ he said and he saw

                his words work their magic. She looked angrier; her hands had gripped the
                railing of the bed like she was trying to snap it into half. ‘Frankly, that

                Arman guy is just a rude bastard who doesn’t know the first thing about
                medicine!’
                   ‘Fuck you!’ she shrieked. ‘He knows EVERYTHING! Maybe he was

                trying to kill you! He should have! You have no right to live. Anyway, he is
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