By Humaira Khan
Part 1: Beneath the Surface
She watched her muscles twitch, small flickers disturbing the skin surface like ripples on water.
Random, unprovoked, without beauty.
Was she just tired? But then why would they affect first her left arm, then her left leg, then her right one, too, like there was order to the destruction, leaving her limbs wasted, weak, crippled?
Part 2: White Lies: “We need more workup…”
The stark sanitized smell of the hospital and his white coat match the lies he tells her.
But he definitely knows.
When he taps her wasted leg, flicks her bent finger, and they both respond briskly, eager to react, he knows they shouldn’t have, and she sees the truth in an instant in his eyes.
Part 3: Last Breath
Two years later, her limbs no longer move, not much anyway. They are wasted but stiff, contracted.
Breaths have become shallow, effortful.
She sheds tears, then laughs, not in response to anything, not due to sadness, just does, inappropriately.
The machine breathes for her but she’s done asking for help. She longs to be free.
Humaira Khan, M.D., is a neurologist, mother, nature-lover, and amateur photographer with a life-long passion for the written word. She has a Diploma in Freelance and Feature Writing from the London School of Journalism and her work has been published in Intima as well as in lifestyle and consumer magazines, both online and in print.