ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ sʜᴀᴅᴏᴡs

6.Treatment

Natasha's POV

I woke up to the melodious chirping of birds and the gentle caress of sunlight on my face. Today dawned as a beautiful and warm morning. However, it being Sunday meant no college today. Despite this, I harbored hopes that the day would unfold smoothly; I certainly didn't want to ruin it. I began my day with my usual morning routine, followed by preparing breakfast for my dad at the appointed time.

Moreover, I had to make a trip to the hospital to pick up my dad's medications. As one cycle of treatment concluded and a new one commenced today, my deepest wish is for his swift recovery. I long for him to regain his health and vitality, to return to being the loving and caring father he has always been.

As usual, my dad and I shared breakfast in silence. After our meal, I took the responsibility of tidying up the dining area. Following a brief moment of rest, we set off for the hospital to collect his medications and for his daily checkup. Anxiety gripped me as we made our way there, my mind preoccupied with concerns about his health. I couldn't shake off the worry about whether his condition was improving or deteriorating.

We sat in the waiting room, anxiously awaiting the results. When they finally arrived, a wave of relief washed over me to hear that my dad was showing some improvement. Every bit of progress meant the world to me, given how rare it was for him to recover this quickly. However, my sense of relief was short-lived as the doctor's next words hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Miss Natasha, your father requires a specialized treatment that we are unable to provide here. The necessary equipment for his care is not available at our hospital," the doctor explained calmly, though his words sent shockwaves through me.

"Where can he receive the best treatment?" I inquired, my voice betraying the fear and desperation I felt.

"America," came the doctor's simple reply.

My jaw dropped in disbelief. The thought of seeking treatment in America seemed like an impossible dream. As a student still pursuing my education, the financial burden of such a journey was beyond what I could bear. The meager income we relied on was nowhere near enough to cover the costs of treatment abroad.

"Isn't there any other way?" I pleaded, hoping for an alternative solution, but the doctor shook his head solemnly.

"I'm sorry, Miss, there is no other option. It's either you take him to America for the best treatment or leave him untreated," he stated firmly, his words hanging heavily in the air.

My heart sank as the gravity of the situation fully dawned on me. I was overwhelmed with conflicting thoughts, unsure of what to do next. Before I could gather my thoughts, my dad's voice boomed through the room, breaking the tense silence.

"What do you mean leave me untreated?" he demanded angrily, his frustration evident.

"Mr. Agarwal, please, I urge you to remain calm," the doctor implored, attempting to diffuse the situation.

I reached out to touch my dad's shoulder, trying to calm him down. "Dad, please, let's not start a scene here," I began, but before I could finish, he forcefully pushed me away with a strong jerk, cutting me off mid-sentence.

Fear gripped me as I realized the extent of his anger. My dad had a history of being abusive and struggling with anger issues, and I knew I couldn't afford to let fear paralyze me. Despite my apprehension, I knew I had to intervene. This was a public place, a hospital, and maintaining calm was crucial.

The doctor spoke again, his voice calm yet authoritative, knowing that my dad was a patient in need of understanding and support.

"Mr. Agarwal, please, I understand your frustration, but let's try to talk about this calmly," the doctor urged, gesturing for him to take a seat.