After the death of Shah Saab, Mother's health deteriorated severely. She would remain unconscious for most of the day. She had completely stopped eating and drinking; she wouldn't speak to anyone or say a word. Mrs. Yousuf's life had seemingly come to a standstill.
One night, Mother struggled to get to the washroom; she was so weak she could barely walk. When a considerable amount of time passed and she hadn't come out, her youngest son noticed. He immediately woke up Father and me (Hassan). We knocked on the washroom door for a long time, but there was no response from inside.
I told my younger brother and Father that we should break the door down, fearing Mother had fainted inside. First, I hoisted my younger brother onto my shoulders so he could reach through the small window above the washroom to unlock the door from the inside. After much effort, the door finally opened. The sight I witnessed that night still brings tears to my eyes as I write this. My Mother lay unconscious in the washroom, her leg twisted in a way that made it look broken.
Because Mother was heavy, we all had to lift her together and carry her to her room to lay her on the bed. As soon as she regained consciousness, she began screaming in agony. Her leg was severely injured, and she was in immense pain. Even today, I can still hear those screams, and whenever I recall that moment at night, I cry bitterly. My Mother was in so much pain.
It was the month of Ramadan, and fifteen fasts had already passed. The very next morning, my younger sister had to be taken to the hospital as she was about to give birth. Because of Mother's condition, there was no sign of joy left in the house. It was time for Sehri (the pre-dawn meal), around 5 AM. Mother was screaming in pain. My brother and I couldn't eat anything and started our fast without Sehri.
Moving Mother from the first floor to the ground floor was an incredibly difficult task. Both of us brothers sat her on a chair and, with great difficulty, managed to carry her down—a process that took thirty agonizing minutes. I didn't have enough money to take her to a good private hospital; our financial situation at home was very poor. In a state of fasting, both brothers took Mother to a government hospital.
We waited in line from 6 AM until 10 AM before the doctor finally checked her and ordered an X-ray. Then, we spent another two hours in the X-ray line. Mother had been in pain for six hours by then. We weren't worried about our own hunger or thirst; our only prayer was for Mother to get better. May Allah never take even an enemy to the government hospitals of Pakistan. And may Allah grant wealth to every person who truly loves their mother.
We took Mother in an Edhi ambulance because they charge very little. We didn't even have a bike left at that point. After the X-ray, we learned that the bone wasn't broken, but it was a severe sprain, which was causing the swelling. The doctor prescribed painkillers, and we brought her home. By the time we arrived, it was 12 PM. Being fast, we could neither eat nor drink anything.
The entire month of Ramadan passed like this. Mother was never able to stand up again after that day. Her meals and even her washroom needs were all managed on the bed. These responsibilities were handled by my wife and my elder sister (who would sometimes come over and cry seeing her condition).
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