In January, Mrs. Johnson experienced the onset of menopause. At first, it didn’t cause too much trouble. There were no notorious hot flashes, sweating, palpitations, or headaches. Her periods simply stopped, signifying the start of a new phase in life: hello there, old age!
Mrs. Johnson chose not to see a doctor since she had read extensively about menopause and knew what to expect. Her friends often shared their experiences, saying she was quite lucky to have such an easy transition. “You are fortunate,” her friends would say. “You’re handling menopause like a breeze!”
As if jinxed by her friends, Mrs. Johnson soon began to experience strange changes. She knew these were hormonal changes that wouldn’t just disappear. This likely explained the mood swings, dizziness, and weakness.
Bending down to her granddaughter, little Daisy, grew increasingly difficult, her appetite vanished, and her back began to ache in a new way. Her face often puffed up in the mornings and her legs would swell by evening. She initially paid little attention to these ailments. But her daughters-in-law were the first to raise concerns, saying, “Mum, you’re looking so pale and frail these days. Go see a doctor, get an ultrasound, don’t put it off. These things are serious!”
Mrs. Johnson stayed silent. Doubts about her health had already been nagging at her. Her breasts started to ache intensely, burning to the touch, and a constant tugging sensation in her lower abdomen wouldn’t let her sleep. Many sleepless nights were spent lying next to her snoring husband, staring at the ceiling, tears rolling down her cheeks as she pondered the future and reflected on the past.
She was far from ready for death! Only fifty-two, she hadn’t even reached retirement yet. She and her husband were looking for a country house, hoping to spend more time in nature. Her sons had good jobs and were doing well. Her daughters-in-law were respectful, helping her dye her grey hair, advising her on what clothes to buy to flatter her figure. Her only granddaughter, Daisy, was a delight. She was taking up figure skating and would start school in the autumn. She could draw well and had already learned to knit, thanks to her grandma.
Life seemed to have flown by! Mrs. Johnson felt as if she hadn’t lived at all. She had just married off her youngest son and was still waiting for grandchildren from him, yet here she was, facing illness! She wiped her tears with the edge of the duvet, but they kept flowing down her cheeks. Her mornings revealed dark circles under her eyes, and her face became sallow and gaunt.
Mrs. Johnson somehow endured the spring and summer, but come autumn, she felt much worse. Breathlessness and unbearable back pain became persistent, her abdomen ached intolerably. Finally, Mrs. Johnson decided to make a doctor’s appointment and confide in her husband about her struggles.
Virtually the whole family accompanied Mrs. Johnson to the clinic. Her husband, John, and their elder son waited in the car, while both daughters-in-law waited in the hallway.
Summoning the strength to get onto the examination chair and blushing from embarrassment, Mrs. Johnson answered the doctor’s questions about when her periods stopped, when she felt unwell, and when her last check-up was. It took her some time to respond, feeling cold as the doctor filled out forms, washed her hands, and put on rubber gloves.
The doctor examined Mrs. Johnson thoroughly, frowning more and more. Then she curtly said, “Get dressed,” and moved to make a phone call. Mrs. Johnson’s hands shook as she struggled to pull up her uncooperative skirt, while listening in horror to the doctor’s conversation.
“Oncology unit?” the doctor yelled into the receiver. “This is from the local clinic. I have a critical patient needing immediate consultation. Yes, yes… likely the last stage. Uterus cannot be found. Fifty-two… First visit. Yes, it’s unbelievable… All the information is readily available, yet they can’t make the time for a doctor visit. Yes, alright, I’m sending her.”
After hanging up, the doctor returned to her paperwork.
“Did you come here alone, ma’am?”
“No, with my husband and children, we’re in the car,” Mrs. Johnson replied quietly, her lips numb. Only then did she feel an overwhelming pain throughout her body. The pain took her breath away, made her legs weak, and she wanted to scream. Mrs. Johnson leaned against the door frame and cried. The midwife rushed into the corridor and shouted, “Who’s here with Mrs. Johnson? Come in, quickly!”
Her daughters-in-law jumped up and hurried into the room. Seeing their mother-in-law, they understood immediately. Mrs. Johnson’s body was wracked with pain while the doctor’s clipped instructions seemed to echo from a distance: urgently, go straight to the first hospital, oncology, second floor, a doctor is waiting… Here’s the referral and your medical card… It’s very late, I’m sorry… Why delay when you’re educated people…
The car ride was silent. John sniffled, wiping tears from his eyes with the back of his hand. Their son focused intensely on the road, gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. In the back, her daughters-in-law supported Mrs. Johnson, who was rapidly losing strength. She groaned, and when the pain became intolerable, she screamed, causing John to break into fresh sobs.
Occasionally, the pain would subside for a moment, allowing Mrs. Johnson to catch a glimpse of the yellowing leaves passing by the window. As she silently bid them goodbye, she also bid farewell to her children, husband, and granddaughter, Daisy. She wouldn’t be able to spoil her with delicious pies anymore. Who would take her to her first day of school now? Who would be there after school to greet her? Who would give her a tight hug, a loving kiss, and marvel at her first accomplishments?
It didn’t take long at the hospital; Mrs. Johnson was seen straight away. The family stood in a huddled group by the window, too scared to sit. John no longer cried but stared at a point on the floor, lost and powerless. The daughters-in-law clutched tissues, and their son rocked silently to and fro.
In the examination room, something dramatic seemed to be happening. A nurse with a flushed face dashed out and hurried down the corridor. Shortly afterwards, an elderly doctor in surgical scrubs and shoes quietly entered the room. Then several more doctors rushed in.
When a loud clatter echoed down the corridor, the family instinctively turned their heads towards the noise: the flushed nurse, accompanied by two orderlies, was quickly guiding a rattling stretcher for transporting patients. Once the stretcher disappeared through the wide doors of the examination room, the family knew it was over. John clasped his head and groaned, the daughters-in-law searched their bags for heart medication, and their son’s cheek twitched nervously.
Unexpectedly, the room’s door swung open again. A stretcher with Mrs. Johnson, covered by a white sheet, was being quickly wheeled by six or seven people, all of whom were flushed and sweating. Mrs. Johnson’s pale face was uncovered. Terror was frozen in her swollen eyes. John’s wife pushed past their daughters-in-law to reach his wife. The elderly doctor blocked his way.
“I’m the husband! The husband,” John shouted as he ran after the stretcher. “Let me say goodbye. My dearest, how could this happen after all we planned together?”
“Planned, indeed,” the nurse said, closing the door. “Granddad, stop fussing and yelling. She’s about to give birth. The baby’s head is almost out…!”
In the delivery room lay two women: Mrs. Johnson and a much younger woman, probably a student. Both screamed simultaneously and calmed down in unison during the breaks between contractions. Around each were busy midwives and doctors. The senior doctor calmly paced between the tables, issuing instructions.
“What are we suffering for?” the doctor asked during a pause.
“For cursed vodka, it’s all its fault,” the young student moaned.
“And you, ma’am?” the doctor turned to Mrs. Johnson, patting her on the bare thigh.
Mrs. Johnson stayed silent for a moment, then slowly whispered, “For love, I suppose. What else? We celebrated my birthday, my fiftieth, you see… had a bit of fun…”
“Well, that was quite the celebration,” the doctor chuckled. “So, you honestly hadn’t noticed or were you fibbing?”
“Oh, doctor, if I’d known, if I’d even thought… The shame of it! I’m a grandma! I’ve always been on the plumper side, even from a young age, people only called me ‘Mrs.’ after a certain age due to my figure… I was sure it was menopause, then cancer. That’s why they couldn’t find my womb at the clinic; they said it had disappeared, suspected cancer, the last stage…”
“It’s not cancer, but certainty, you needed,” the doctor waved his hand. “We’re all human, and unfortunately, mistakes can happen. Enough talking. Come on, you’ve got this. Your mistake is eager to see the light!”
The midwife emerged from the delivery room, beaming with importance — something exciting to share with friends. After all, a grandmother giving birth isn’t something you see every day.
“Mrs. Emily Johnson. Any family here?”
“We’re here,” the family answered in unison, stepping forward.
“Congratulations,” the midwife said, studying the men curiously. “Who’s the father?”
“Me,” John replied hoarsely, still unable to believe what was happening.
“Him,” the daughters-in-law confirmed, pointing at their father-in-law.
“Well, I never,” the midwife couldn’t hide her astonishment and continued with newfound respect, “It’s a boy. Seven pounds twelve ounces, twenty-one inches. Time to celebrate, dad. Another hour and who knows what would have been… Just in the nick of time. Wonders do happen. Why she was taken to oncology, I’ll never understand…”
