Walking behind the paramedics into the hospital, time didn’t speed up. Every movement the doctors made seemed to last a lifetime. Closing the curtain around her bed, they shielded me from what they were doing to her, and it seemed to take an eternity. But she was alive, and that’s what mattered. Nothing further had happened in the ambulance trip to Lifeline; she was stable, and that was a good sign, even if she wasn’t breathing on her own yet.

‘Ashray?’ A voice I didn’t want to hear brought me back to the present. Sakshi stood in front of me in a nurse’s uniform.

‘Serendipity,’ I thought.

‘You need to move to the waiting room until we have some news for you.’

I allowed her to lead me to the small lounge, not wanting to say anything, not prepared to speak to her at all. Rishi walked in with an overnight bag and rolled his eyes when he saw Sakshi.

‘I packed you a bag. Didn’t know if I should bring anything for your Maa.’

‘They have her in the Emergency Room,’ I said. ‘She’s alive though. She’s not breathing by herself, but she’s alive.’ I needed some reassuring words from him.

‘I’m so sorry, Ashray,’ Sakshi said, standing at the door.

‘I think you should leave,’ Rishi said; he did not want me to have to deal with any more pressure. He wanted to take away the additional discomfort.

‘What happened, Rishi?’ I asked, still confused by what had happened at our apartment. ‘One minute we were laughing and planning our future and the next, this.’

‘We can’t always plan the future, Ashray, sometimes things just happen.’

‘I was supposed to take her to the doctor weeks ago, and I didn’t.’ I stifled a sob.

‘Ashray, this isn’t your fault. None of this is. Come on, hey, it’s going to be fine.’ He didn’t sound very convincing.

‘Ashray?’ A doctor walked into the waiting room, a file in his hand. I stood to greet him. ‘I’m Dr Patel. Your mother has had a massive cardiac event, but she is fighting. We have her on a respirator to take some pressure off her heart, but she is going to need surgery.’ The colour drained from my face. ‘These forms need to be signed, giving us permission to take her in for the bypass surgery she needs.’ I reached out to take the pen, hesitating for a moment.

‘What will happen if she doesn’t have the surgery?’ I asked.

‘Ashray, your mother is very sick. Without the surgery, she most likely won’t make it. The surgery is risky, but at least you’re giving her a chance.’ I didn’t want to make the decision; the pressure was too much. Why did I have to make the decision to allow my mother to live or die?