Page 12 of A Kiss in Kashmir

“But Daneen—” George knew it was normally useless to argue with her. Once she made up her mind, even a miracle of God wasn’t enough to make her change it. But this was one battle he was not prepared to lose.

The cardiologist’s tone was firm. “Daneen, this isn’t about your meditation practice. We have always known that at some point you would need to have surgery. This isn’t about any emotional trauma that can be healed through the mind—this is a real physical issue. There is a defect in the wall of your heart. We need to deal with it, and now. I have known you for many years and you have always done what you pleased. But this time, not just as your doctor, but as your friend, I am telling you, this is serious.”

Daneen looked pleadingly at George. Her hands were shaking, and beads of sweat had formed around her face. Her hazel eyes scrunched and tears rolled down her cheeks. “George, I don’t want to have surgery. I don’t.”

George held both her hands in his and tried to gently reassure her that the doctors would take good care of her. “Can we talk about this? Daneen, this isn’t just your decision. It’sours. I don’t want to lose you, my love. You are my life. Please, can we just discuss this? The surgeon they’re recommending is the best in DC.”

The doctor added, “He’s right. Dr. Moskowitz is the best in town and he’s here and in the hospital. We need to get you in to be prepped. He needs to run a few tests and then the surgery will be tomorrow morning. Daneen, this is a matter of life and death. There is no choice here, in my opinion. We have been over this for years. I warned you last year that—” He stopped as Daneen began to weep.

“Oh, my love, it will be okay. Please don’t cry.” George leaned in to console Daneen. “This is routine surgery these days. We can’tnotdo this. It is your life, my darling. Our life. Yours and mine. I can’t… we can’t—” George’s eyes filled with tears and he too began to weep.

The doctor said softly, “I know you don’t believe in Western medicine, Daneen, and I’ve always supported you and respected your perspective. The herbs, the music therapy, your meditation practice, I think it has all contributed to your healthy life so far and kept your heart as strong as it could. But this can’t be totally healed by alternative therapies. It’s a physical defect that needs a physical intervention. I’ve always supported you, as long as I’ve known you. But please, we must get you admitted.”

“Daneen, you’ve been having difficulty breathing,” George reminded her. In the last few days she’d been lying in bed more often than not, totally exhausted. Even a few steps to the bathroom were hard on her.

“How much time do I have if I don’t wish to do this?” Daneen asked quietly.

“Daneen, no.” George knew his wife of twenty-five years well enough to know where this was heading.

The doctor replied, “I’m afraid I… well, at this point… with these test results…” He shook his head. “You’re soyoung.”

“No surgery. How much time do I have, doctor?”

“Your heart is not even functioning at fifteen percent. It may stop anytime. Even in a couple of days, I am afraid.”

“I am the daughter of a hakim, a healer. I should be able to heal this. I have been able to do it all these years. At some point, my father did allow his patients to have surgery. But it wasn’t often. And I—” Daneen was out of breath. She began to gasp for air.

“Please, Daneen. Listen to him. Listen tome,” George pleaded. “Your heart is failing.”

“I want to go home now. I will let you know by this evening how I wish to proceed.”

The cardiologist looked at George. “I’m going to write a formal objection to you leaving here right now. But I can’t stop you. I beg you to reconsider.”

George understood. “It’s okay, doctor. Please add it to your report. I’ll call your office this evening.”

“Try to make it this afternoon.Thisafternoon. Please.”

For the first time in her life, Daneen used a wheelchair to get back to the car. She had refused it earlier that morning, but now she could barely stand.

Daneen fell asleep on the short ride home. George parked the car in their driveway and opened her door. She looked so frail and weak. He had been aware for weeks that she was eating minimally and getting tired easily. Each time he mentioned it, her response had always been the same.

“I’ve got this. I will be fine.”

George reached in and picked her up in his arms. It startled him, again, how light she was to carry now.

I should have said something. I should have insisted she see the doctor earlier,he began to chide himself, but then she whispered his name, opened her eyes, and smiled at him.

“I want to rest. I am tired,” she said.

He placed her on the bed, on top of her favorite purple satin sheets. “I love how these sheets are so soft and so cool,” she said as soon as he laid her down. It was the same line, for twenty-five years now. It was one of Daneen’s traits that he loved dearly—always grateful for everything around her. In his entire life, he had never seen her utter an ugly word about anything. Not even when they lost their newborn to SIDS. Daneen had only given thanks for the angel that blessed their lives for a mere month. But both of them had lost a crucial part of their souls when the baby, Tara, died.

“George, can you bring me her blanket?” It was almost as if she had read his mind.

George rushed to the closet. The soft yellow baby blanket was hanging next to her wedding dress. Daneen never put anything in storage. She always said looking at these things made her appreciate every single moment that she held precious.

“Here, my darling. My love. Now, can we please talk?” George gave her the blanket, then sat down by her bedside.

“I miss her every day, George. I miss her.” Daneen looked tired but George couldn’t help noticing her eyes. The agitation that he had seen at the doctor’s office was gone. Daneen had an amazing ability to instantly calm her mind and her nerves, as if on demand.

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