I was standing just in front of the brown wooden door that has a metal handle. Doctor called me that morning for the exact reason I didn't know yet. They said it was regarding my mammography test that I got it done earlier. My heart beats started racing like players who run in Olympics’ final race. I tried very hard to take deep breath and grasp myself between each breath. It's said taking deep breath can minimise the anxiety level. I was telling myself again and again, that I had gone through this before too. Everything would be all right. At least I should not worry until I confirmed there is really something to be worried. I was telling to myself to hold hope tight until then.

All the memories of moments like this flashed before my eyes. The 10 years old girl standing, leaning on a hospital wall of Red Cross hospital when her mother was inside the operation theatre. She was praying with eyes full of tears and heart full of fear of the unknown and possibilities that she didn't want to think of. Her feet were getting colder and her hands were shaking. She didn't want to talk to any member of her family around as she didn't want them to hear her voice shaking. But no matter, how hard she tried, she failed to hold the drops of tears in her eyes. Her both checks were covered with warm salty tears from her eyes, falling like monsoon rain. Beside her, was standing her 7 years old little sister who was not sure whether to be sad or being normal. It seemed like she too was fighting an unknown battle of her own. But unlike me, my little sister was not crying but standing still and looking here and there just not knowing to exactly what to do. Maybe, that's her way of handling emotional wave of the moment like that.

Someone came out of the room. But she was not the doctor who wanted to meet me and diagnose me more but she was the technician of radiology department of the hospital. She asked me my name and said I had to wait for another ten or fifteen minutes as there were three more patients to be checked before me. Yes, another ten or fifteen minutes to hold tight the robe of the horses that were running wild inside my chest as my heartbeats.

That was when another moment like that flashed back. Although I couldn't say exactly which one of them was more intensely hitting the wall between my hope and fear, that was hard to mention. Then, I remembered surrendering myself with my whole acceptance and fear to the hand that writes fate of human and we call him/her as Almighty or God. The sound of ambulance and my husband sitting inside the ambulance, trying to hide his tears that were rolling down from his eyes. That was something I am not going to forget for the rest of my life. I used to turn off television after that day whenever I saw ambulance for around 2 years. It was noon and I was taking to another hospital of the city from the hospital my c- section was done around 20 hours ago. Doctor said that there was internal bleeding and another operation was utmost needed. That's why they were shifting me to one of the best hospitals of the city. The moment, I entered the emergency room, nurses and doctors rushed to me and they were taking directly from emergency to operation theatre. I was surrounded by doctors I don't remember how many but more than fifteen, I think. Doctors of all the departments I assume. One of the doctors inserted a tube inside my mouth and the last thing I remembered was his voice " Don't bite my hand". Then one doctor was slapping on my check to wake me up after the operation. I remember clearly that moment of peace and I didn't want to wake up at all. But I opened my eyes and they were taking me to ICU. None of my family was around. They were not allowed to enter the ICU often. I came to know later that only one visitor at a time was allowed two times a day. With two tubes; one inside my uterus and one between the layers of muscle (doctor said so) and so many pipes on my both hands for medicine, saline and blood and in bonus one catheter inside me with a bag hanging under my bed to collect urine. I smelled death like it was within my grasp in those 7 days of ICU.

The brown door with broad metallic handle opened again. A woman in her thirty with glasses and apron asked my name again. She asked me to come inside. I inhaled deep and tried to calm my heart. It was the room number 1068. Inside that room once again, life would test me. Inside that room, once again, life was waiting to give me verdict. Inside that room, maybe I would roughly calculate how long I would live in worry and pain.