In January, Evelyn experienced the onset of menopause. Initially, it didn’t cause many problems. She didn’t have the notorious hot flashes, excessive sweating, palpitations, or headaches. Her periods just stopped, and that was it: “Hello, old age, I’m yours!”
Evelyn didn’t go to a doctor; she had read extensively and knew what was happening. Her friends often shared their experiences with her too. They would say, “Evelyn, you’re so lucky to have such an easy time with menopause!”
But it was as if they jinxed her. Strange things started happening to her soon after. She knew these were hormonal changes occurring in her body, which don’t go unnoticed. This probably led to her sudden mood swings, dizziness, and lethargy.
It became increasingly difficult for Evelyn to bend down to her granddaughter Lily. Her appetite vanished, and her back began to ache in new ways. Her face often swelled in the morning, and her legs in the evening. For a time, Evelyn didn’t pay much attention to her ailments. It was her daughters-in-law who first raised the alarm: “Mum, you look so pale and weak. Go to the doctor, get an ultrasound, don’t delay; you shouldn’t joke with such matters!”
Evelyn stayed silent. She had long harbored doubts that something was wrong. Then her chest began to hurt intensely as if it were on fire. Her lower abdomen ached, keeping her awake. Often during sleepless nights, with her husband snoring softly beside her, Evelyn would lie on her back, staring at the ceiling, quietly crying, thinking about the future and reminiscing about the past.
She didn’t want to die. She was only fifty-two, not even close to retirement age. She and her husband had begun the search for a country cottage to spend more time in nature. Her sons had good jobs, and her daughters-in-law were respectful, helping her cover her gray hair and advising her on clothing to flatter her figure. Her only granddaughter, Lily, was a delightful, golden child. She was taking figure skating lessons and would start first grade in the fall. She drew well and already knew how to knit—with her grandmother’s guidance.
How quickly life had flown by! Evelyn felt as though she hadn’t really lived yet. She had just had her younger son married off and was still waiting for grandchildren from him, but now illness had hit, curse it! Evelyn wiped her hot tears with the edge of her duvet, but they just kept flowing down her cheeks. In the morning, there were dark rings under her eyes, and her face looked tired and somber.
Spring and summer somehow passed by, but by autumn, she felt considerably worse. The shortness of breath and agonizing back pain rarely relented, and her stomach ached intolerably. Finally, Evelyn decided to see a doctor and confide her suffering to her husband.
Nearly the whole family accompanied Evelyn to the women’s health clinic. Her husband, Andrew, and her eldest son waited in the car while both daughters-in-law sat in the corridor with her.
Climbing into the examination chair with some difficulty and flushed with embarrassment, Evelyn answered the doctor’s questions: when had her periods stopped, when had she begun to feel unwell, and when was her last check-up. Evelyn answered at length, shivering in the chair while the doctor completed her paperwork, washed her hands, and put on rubber gloves.
The doctor examined Evelyn thoroughly, becoming more concerned and anxious. She then abruptly said, “Get dressed,” and approached the phone. With trembling hands, Evelyn struggled to put on her unruly skirt, horrified as she listened to the doctor’s conversation.
“Hospice ward?” she was yelling into the phone. “It’s from room five. I have a critical patient in need of urgent consultation. Urgent! Yes, yes… It seems to be the final stage. I can’t find the uterus. Fifty-two years old… First appointment. Yes, unbelievable… They live like in the woods. You teach them, inform them, but they never find time to visit a doctor unless it’s too late. Yes, yes, alright, I’m sending her over.”
Finishing the call, the doctor returned to her desk, filling out some paperwork.
“Did you come here alone?”
“No, with my husband, with my children; we’re by car,” Evelyn replied softly, her lips numbing. It was then she felt the most intense pain throughout her body. The pain took her breath away, weakened her legs, and made her want to scream. Evelyn leaned against the doorframe and cried. The midwife rushed into the corridor and called out, “Who is here with Wilson? Come in!”
The daughters-in-law jumped up and hurried into the office. Seeing their mother-in-law, they immediately comprehended the situation. Evelyn was crying and writhing in pain, barely hearing snippets of the doctor’s instructions: immediately, urgently, the primary hospital, oncology, second floor, the duty doctor is waiting… Here’s the referral, here’s the patient card… Too late, I’m sorry… Why did you delay, educated people…
They drove in silence. Andrew didn’t hold back, occasionally wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. His son stared tensely at the road, gripping the wheel so tightly it hurt his fingers. In the back seat, the daughters-in-law supported their mother-in-law on either side, as her strength faded. Evelyn groaned, and when the pain became unbearable, she screamed, bringing new waves of sobs from Andrew.
Sometimes the pain subsided for a few moments, and Evelyn managed to glimpse the golden trees passing by outside the car windows. Saying goodbye to them, she mentally bid farewell to her children, her husband, and her granddaughter Lily. She wouldn’t be able to spoil her with homemade pastries anymore. Who would now take her to her first day of school, meet her after lessons? Who would hug her tightly, kiss her, and marvel at her first achievements?
At the hospital, there was little waiting. Evelyn was admitted immediately. Her family stood in a silent, terrified cluster by the window, not daring to sit. Andrew no longer wept; he looked on, lost and helpless. The daughters-in-law clutched tissues in their hands, while his son swayed silently from side to side.
In the hallway, it seemed something dreadful was unfolding in the room where Evelyn had been taken. First, a red-faced nurse rushed down the corridor, then an older doctor, wearing a gown and shoe covers, entered the room briskly, followed closely by several other doctors. When a trolley clattered at the end of the corridor, the family instinctively turned toward the noise: the red-faced nurse and two orderlies quickly wheeled a rickety stretcher for transporting patients.
As soon as the stretcher disappeared through the wide doors of the examination room, the family understood it was the end. Andrew held his head in his hands and groaned, the daughters-in-law began searching their bags for heart drops, and a nerve twitched treacherously on his son’s cheek.
Suddenly the door to the room flew open again. The stretcher with Evelyn, covered by a white sheet, was being pushed by six or seven people at once. Everyone was excited, red-faced, with beads of sweat on their foreheads. Evelyn’s pale face was visible, terror frozen in her swollen eyes. Pushing past the daughters-in-law, Andrew rushed to his wife. An older doctor blocked his path.
“I’m the husband, the husband,” Andrew shouted after the disappearing stretcher. “Let me say goodbye. My darling Evelyn, how can this be, we wanted to go in one day…”
“You’ve had enough going, old man,” retorted the nurse, locking the wide examination room door. “You’re not helping; be quiet. She’s in labor now. The baby’s head is about to appear…”
In the delivery room, there were two women in labor: Evelyn and another, very young, likely a student. Both screamed in unison and then, as if on command, would calm down between contractions. Midwives and doctors bustled around each. An experienced professor walked leisurely between the two beds, giving instructions.
“And why are we suffering?” asked the professor during a lull in the labor.
“Blame the cursed booze; that’s the cause of all my woes,” moaned the student.
“And you, mother?” the professor addressed Evelyn, patting her on her hefty, bare thigh.
Evelyn paused briefly, reflected, and then whispered faintly, for she had no strength left, “For love, I suppose. What else? It was around my birthday. We celebrated my fifty-second. Had a bit of fun…”
“Quite a bit of ‘fun,’ indeed,” chuckled the professor. “So you really didn’t notice anything, or are you fibbing?”
“I swear, doctor! If I’d known, if I could have imagined… Such shame! I’m already a grandmother. I’ve been chunky since childhood, and because of my figure, no one’s called me by my first name since I was twenty, only by my second name… I was sure I had menopause and cancer to boot. They couldn’t find my uterus at the clinic and said it was the final stage of cancer…”
“It’s life, not cancer,” the professor waved his hand irritably. “We’re all human, and regrettably, medical errors still occur now and then. But enough talking. Push, mother, come on, push. Your little miracle wants to see the light!”
The midwife exited the delivery room, content and full of self-importance. She’d have stories for her friends—it’s not every day a grandmother gives birth.
“Evelyn Wilson. Any family here?”
“We are,” the family answered in unison, stepping forward.
“Congratulations,” the midwife said, eyeing the men in the family curiously. “And who’s the father?”
“I am,” Andrew replied hoarsely, still not fully believing what was happening.
“He is,” the daughters-in-law replied simultaneously, pointing to their father-in-law.
“Remarkable,” the midwife couldn’t help but express her amazement, adding with a hint of respect, “You’ve got a boy. Three hundred and fifty pounds in weight. Length, fifty-one centimeters. Now, how about a celebration, Dad? Another hour, and who knows what would’ve happened… Made it right in time for the birth. What a surprise. Why they brought her to oncology is beyond me…”
