In January, Ellen had the onset of menopause. At first, it didn’t cause any significant issues. There were no infamous hot flashes, night sweats, rapid heartbeat, or headaches. Her periods just stopped, and that was that; hello old age!
Ellen didn’t bother seeing a doctor. She had read a lot and knew what was happening. Her friends often shared their experiences, too. They told her she was lucky to experience menopause so mildly.
But her friends seemed to jinx it. Strange things started happening to Ellen. She realized these were hormonal changes that don’t go unnoticed. Hence the mood swings, dizziness, and weakness.
It became increasingly difficult for Ellen to bend down to her granddaughter Lily. Her appetite disappeared, and her back hurt in a new way. In the mornings, her face often swelled, and in the evenings, it was her legs. For a while, Ellen didn’t pay much attention to her ailments. Her daughters-in-law, however, noted her becoming pale and weary. “You should see a doctor, have a scan, don’t delay, you shouldn’t mess with these things!” they urged.
Ellen remained silent. Doubts about her health had been lurking for some time. Her chest began to hurt intensely, like it was on fire, and she couldn’t touch it. Her lower belly felt drawn, keeping her awake at night. Often during sleepless nights, with her husband’s steady snoring beside her, Ellen lay on her back, staring at the ceiling and quietly crying, pondering the future and reminiscing about the past.
She wasn’t ready to die! She was only fifty-two, not even close to retirement. She and her husband had begun looking for a cottage to spend more time in nature. Her sons were wonderful, with good jobs. Her daughters-in-law were respectful, never cheeky, helping her color her gray hair and advising on clothes to hide her plumpness.
Her only granddaughter, Lily, was a gem, occupying her heart with joy. Starting school in autumn, she was into figure skating, drew well, and could knit as her grandma had taught her. Life flew by so swiftly! Ellen felt as though she hadn’t lived fully yet. Having just arranged the wedding for her younger son and not yet seen grandchildren from him, this illness struck! She wiped her tears with the edge of the duvet, but they kept flowing. In the mornings, dark circles appeared under her eyes, her face grew weary and darkened.
Ellen somehow managed to endure the spring and summer, but by autumn, she felt utterly terrible. Breathless, suffering excruciating back pain, and intense abdominal aches. Finally, Ellen decided to see a doctor and confide in her husband. Her husband, Andrew, waited with their elder son in the car, while her daughters-in-law accompanied her to the clinic.
Climbing onto the examination chair was awkward, and Ellen blushed answering the doctor’s questions: when her periods stopped, when she felt unwell, and when she last had a check-up. Ellen’s responses were lengthy, and she even got cold waiting for the doctor to complete her notes and don gloves.
The doctor gave Ellen a thorough examination, increasingly frowning and nervous. After a brief “get dressed,” she made a phone call. With trembling hands, Ellen pulled on her skirt and listened in terror.
“Cancer center?” the doctor shouted into the phone. “This is from practice five. I have a severe case needing urgent consultation. Urgent! Yes, probably the final stage. I can’t find the uterus. Fifty-two… First-time visit. How primitive… You educate them but won’t see a doctor in time. Yes, okay, sending her over.”
The doctor, finishing her call, was filling some paperwork. “Did you come alone?” “No, with family by car,” Ellen whispered, her lips numb, her body now in severe pain, causing her breath to catch and legs to weaken. Ellen leaned against the doorpost and cried. The midwife called for Ellen’s family to enter.
The daughters-in-law rushed in. Seeing Ellen, they understood immediately. Ellen wept, overwhelmed with pain, as bits of the doctor’s instructions floated to her: immediately, urgently, hospital, oncology, second floor, duty doctor waiting… Here’s directions, here’s your file… Too late, I regret… An educated person yet delayed…
The drive was silent. Andrew sniffled openly, wiping tears with the back of his hand occasionally. The son focused intently on the road, gripping the wheel tightly. At the back, the daughters-in-law supported Ellen, who was losing strength. Ellen groaned, crying out in agony, stirring Andrew’s sobs again.
Occasionally, the pain subsided briefly, allowing Ellen to glimpse the passing yellow-leaved trees out the window. Saying farewell, Ellen mentally bid goodbye to her family, to her husband, and to Lily, wondering who would indulge her with tasty treats now. Who would take her to school, pick her up, hug her tightly, kiss her, and marvel at her early successes?
At the cancer center, they didn’t have to wait long. Ellen was seen immediately. Her family, shaken and speechless, stood huddled by the window. Andrew’s tears ceased, replaced by a vacant stare into a single point. His daughters-in-law clutched tissues, while his son swayed silently.
In the unfamiliar room, something dreadful seemed to be happening. A nurse dashed out, flushed, rushing down the hall, followed by a senior doctor and other medics.
A clatter caused the family to turn instinctively toward the noise: the nurse, with two orderlies, wheeling a rattling stretcher for transporting patients. As the stretcher vanished behind wide doors, the family felt the end was near. Andrew clutched his head and groaned, the daughters-in-law searched frantically for heart drops, and their son’s face twitched involuntarily.
The door flung open, revealing the stretcher with Ellen, covered with a sheet, being escorted by several assistants. All appeared flustered and sweating slightly. Ellen’s pale face, exposed, reflected terror. Andrew pushed past the daughters-in-law to reach her. A senior doctor blocked him.
“I am her husband,” Andrew called to the distant trolley. “Let me say goodbye. Oh, Ellen, my dear, we meant to go together…”
“And you’ve gone too far,” the nurse locked the wide door. “Don’t interfere, it’s happening. The baby’s coming. The head will appear soon…”
In the delivery room, two mothers-to-be were in labor: Ellen and a young student-type woman. Both cried out simultaneously, calming between contractions. Midwives and doctors buzzed around each. A seasoned professor moved leisurely between them, offering directions.
“What’s costing you?” the professor asked during a lull in labor.
“The cursed alcohol,” groaned the student. “It’s to blame.”
“And you, dear?” he asked Ellen, patting her bare leg.
Ellen pondered, then whispered weakly, “Love, perhaps. Celebrated fifty-two with my husband… got a bit carried away.”
“Seems more than a little carried away,” the professor chuckled. “You didn’t notice, or sly?”
“Doctor, if I’d known! I’m so ashamed; I’ve been a granny long. Always so plump, no one addressed me by name, only by title since my twenties… Convinced it was menopause, then cancer… At the clinic, they didn’t find my womb, said it dissolved, final stage,” Ellen whispered.
“More scramble than cancer,” the professor waved impatiently. “We’re all human, errors occur. Time to push, dear. Your mistake begs daylight!”
The midwife emerged, enthused, ready for an anecdote—grannies birthing isn’t common now.
“Ellen Green. Family present?”
“Yes,” the family responded, stepping forward.
“Congratulations,” the midwife said, eyeing the men curiously. “Who’s the father?”
“I am,” Andrew croaked, still disbelieving.
“He is,” the daughters-in-law chimed, gesturing to him.
“Amazing,” the midwife marveled, then with respect, “A boy. Three and a half kilos. Longer than a foot at birth. Ready a spread, if you please. Just in time, barely an hour to spare… Miraculous happenings. Why to oncology, mind you?”
