It was a warm day. My eyes hurt when the morning sun fell all over. I could hear the shrieking voices of traffic and the whistles of cooker. My throat was dry. I opened my eyes and glanced around. It was my room. Every one of my things were in the correct spot. “What day it was?” I thought. I tried to get up, yet all of a sudden a deplorable idea made me fall.

“Amal… I am sorry to say this. Because of minor stun during the surgery you won’t almost certainly move your legs. Yet, I guarantee that it tends to be relieved by regular physios. I promise…Be bold and don’t lose trust.”

I tried to get up again. Goodness God! I can’t move my legs. I fell to the bed in a disheveled heap as my grief poured out in a flood of uncontrollable tears.

A half year ago I was diagnosed to have third stage cancer. I was completely devastated then.

“Doctor…Is this disease treatable? I need a precise picture of it.”

“Doctor…Please don’t hide things from me.”

“Umm…Amal dear please calm down. Our pro group is...