by Nasir Siddiki

by
Nasir
Siddiki
It was a crisp, fall day in Canada when I stepped out of my apartment and slid behind the
wheel of my white Mercedes. As the engine roared to life I waited for the thrill of success to
fill me, but all I felt was a bone-weary fatigue that bordered on depression. Probably exhaustion, I
thought as I drove past the Toronto skyline without noticing the view.
At 34 I was close to making my first million, but success never came without a price. For
the past two years I’d worked 18 hour days, seven days a week. So what if I’d sacrificed sleep,
rest and a decent diet to meet my goals? I was young and healthy. Who knows, maybe I’d take
early retirement some day and catch up on my sleep in a lounge chair on an exotic beach. For
now, I had to keep the momentum.
At least today promised a few relaxing hours. Since it was Thanksgiving Day in Canada,
I’d been invited to a feast at the home of Anita, one of my co-workers. I arrived to find the
table was laden with food, and after a home cooked meal I sat on the sofa to visit with Anita’s
mother.
Unfortunately, the conversation didn’t last long. I fell asleep mid-sentence and woke a while
later, embarrassed. That wasn’t the first impression that I’d hoped to make. What’s worse, a
rash had formed on my neck that itched miserably. On the way home I stopped by East York
General Hospital.
“You’ll be fine in the morning,” the doctor said, giving me skin lotion and Tylenol. Back
home I crawled into bed, falling into an exhausted sleep.
My bedroom was cast in shadows of black and gray when I woke during the night with searing pain in my neck. I stumbled to the bathroom and saw that the rash had blossomed into half
inch blisters. Without warning, my world tilted off axis. I woke shivering on the cold tile floor
looking up at the underbelly of the sink. I passed out!
Even in my prone position, waves of dizziness washed over me. Grabbing the sink, I pulled
myself to my feet. Before I could take a step, I blacked out again. When I regained consciousness, I knew something was seriously wrong. I crawled back to bed.
Certain it was impossible to feel so sick and survive, I fumbled for pen and paper on my
bedside table. Hands shaking with fear, I wrote out my will.
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