Page 58 - Till the Last Breath . . .

Regards

Pihu Malhotra

Pihu Malhotra <p_malhotra198@gmail.com>

To Dr Arman Kashyap <ArmanKashyap@GKL.co.in>

Hi Dr Arman,

I can’t walk any more. I see a shining new wheelchair in the corner of

the room. I don’t want to use it. I want to stay in bed. I am scared. I
also choked on my food once. People say I am dying. They tell me

time is running out. Why doesn’t it feel so? Why does it feel that time
has slowed down? Every moment lingers like it will never pass. It feels
like death is moving away from me and I am running to get there soon.

The sooner it comes, the better. I just want to be put out of my misery.
Is a dead daughter better than a dying daughter?

I am sorry.

Regards
Pihu Malhotra

The mails never stopped. It was like a vent for her frustration and her
growing anger.

Four months after the first email, she received a mail from Dr Arman
Kashyap, GKL Hospital. She jumped at the sight of it! And had wondered

later why she had done so. Arman Kashyap was a handsome man, tall, fair
and with rimless spectacles that made him look very intelligent. But the
short-cropped hair made him look like a badass and he stuck out like a sore

thumb in the group photograph of all the doctors at GKL Hospital.
There was no formal introduction, no asking how she was or even who

she was, instead there were a set of questions he wanted her to answer. She
had answered them to the best of her ability, like she would do as a student.

Along with her answers, she attached a report on what she thought about
the various researches that had been done on ALS. She wondered if she was

being a smart-ass, but then thought she had too little time to care.