“Your operation is canceled, the money is needed for my son’s car!”
The pain rolled over me again in a wave, and I instinctively grabbed my stomach. It had become a familiar movement over the past few months. The doctors had already given me the diagnosis: uterine fibroids, surgery required. Waiting for a quota for free hospitalization would take too long, and enduring the pain was becoming harder and harder. My husband and I decided to take out a loan and pay for treatment at a private clinic.
The doorbell rang unexpectedly. Standing on the threshold was Nadezhda Mikhailovna, my mother-in-law. Without warning, as usual.
“Hello, Lenochka!” She kissed me on the cheek and confidently walked into the hallway without waiting to be invited. “Is Viktor home?”
“No, he’s at work,” I answered, closing the door. “You didn’t warn me you were coming.”
“What, do I need to make an appointment now to see my own son?” Nadezhda Mikhailovna snorted and went into the kitchen, where she immediately began opening the cupboards. “Do you have coffee? Or do you spend everything on your pills?”
Silently, I took out the jar of coffee and put the kettle on. Over the years, I had learned not to react to my mother-in-law’s jabs, though sometimes it was difficult.
“How is Igor?” I asked about her younger son, my twenty-five-year-old brother-in-law, who still lived with his mother.
“Wonderful!” Nadezhda Mikhailovna’s eyes lit up. “Such a good boy. He finally passed his driving test. Now he dreams of having a car. He has already chosen the model and the color. All that’s left is to find the money.”
She laughed, but there was a nervous note in her laughter. I tensed, sensing something was wrong.
“And how are you, Lenochka? Still sick?” She looked at me over critically. “You’ve become so thin. Is my son not feeding you?”
“I’m all right,” I answered calmly. “Tomorrow I’m going for my preoperative consultation. The surgery is in a week.”
“Oh?” She pressed her lips together strangely. “And how much did that private clinic charge you?”
“Three hundred thousand,” I said, pouring coffee into the cups. “We took out a loan.”
“Three hundred thousand!” Nadezhda Mikhailovna shook her head. “Unbelievable! The things people spend money on.”
I did not respond to the remark. I had grown used to it during seven years of marriage. Instead, I took a sip of coffee and carefully placed a folder with my medical documents on the table. Inside was the referral for surgery, which I planned to take to the clinic the next day.
My mother-in-law sat unusually quiet, turning the cup in her hands. Then suddenly she looked up at me.
“And what do the doctors say? There’s really no way without surgery?”
“No,” I sighed. “The fibroid is growing, and I’ve started having heavy bleeding. If I don’t have the operation now, there could be complications.”
“But it’s not cancer or anything!” Nadezhda Mikhailovna waved her hand energetically. “Can’t you wait? My neighbor, Antonina Petrovna, also lives with fibroids, and she’s fine. She endures it.”
I felt a wave of irritation rising inside me, but I tried to speak calmly.
“Fibroids affect everyone differently. In my case, the doctors insist on urgent surgery.”
“Doctors, doctors!” my mother-in-law snorted. “They’ll tell you anything. They just want to squeeze more money out of you. And you’re happy to hand over your last kopecks.”
I took a deep breath, counting to ten. Arguing with Nadezhda Mikhailovna was pointless. She always believed she knew better than everyone — doctors, teachers, engineers. Especially when it came to her sons and their wives.
“This is Viktor’s and my decision,” I said firmly. “We discussed everything.”
Nadezhda Mikhailovna pursed her lips but said nothing. I fell silent too, hoping the conversation would move in another direction or that my mother-in-law would leave altogether. But she continued sitting there, glancing at the folder of documents from time to time.
Finally, she spoke again, this time in a different, almost wheedling tone.
“Lenochka, how much have you already paid on the loan?”
“Nothing yet,” I looked at her in surprise. “We only arranged it yesterday.”
“Oh, so the money hasn’t even been spent yet?” she perked up. “That means it can be… redirected!”
“What do you mean?” I became wary.
“Well, here’s what I’m getting at.” Nadezhda Mikhailovna moved closer and lowered her voice conspiratorially. “My dear Igor desperately needs a car. He’s such a good boy, he tried so hard, he passed his test! And now you just happen to have money…”
I was speechless at such audacity. Was she really suggesting we spend the money taken out for my surgery on a car for her younger son?
“Nadezhda Mikhailovna,” I began, trying to remain calm. “This money was taken out as a loan specifically for my operation. We will be paying it back for three years.”
“Oh, come on!” She waved her hand. “It’s just surgery! You can wait and get a quota. But the boy needs a car now. He has already told all his friends he’ll soon have wheels.”
I stared at her, unable to believe my ears.
“That’s impossible,” I said firmly. “The money is already reserved for the operation.”
“What do you mean, impossible?” Steel crept into my mother-in-law’s voice. “Do you think you’re more important than my son? He is my child, and who are you? Just because Vitya married you, now you think you matter more than everyone else?”
I felt my heart begin to pound. Calm, only calm. I couldn’t get nervous; it was bad for my health, especially in my condition.
“Nadezhda Mikhailovna, let’s wait for Viktor and discuss everything together,” I suggested, trying to buy time. “It’s our shared money. We should decide together.”
“Why do you keep repeating ‘together, together’?” my mother-in-law raised her voice. “Viktor is my son. He has always supported me, and he will support me now! He would never refuse his mother!”
With those words, she suddenly grabbed my folder of documents and opened it. On top lay the referral for surgery — an important paper without which the clinic might not admit me.
“Here!” Nadezhda Mikhailovna exclaimed triumphantly, pulling out the sheet. “No operation! Igor comes first, then you!”
And before I could do anything, she began tearing the referral into tiny pieces.
“Your operation is canceled, the money is needed for my son’s car!” my mother-in-law shouted as she ripped up the hospital referral, scattering the scraps across the kitchen table.
I jumped up, trying to stop her, but it was too late. The referral had turned into confetti.
“What have you done?!” I screamed, feeling tears rising in my throat. “That’s an official document! Without it, the clinic won’t admit me!”
“Good,” Nadezhda Mikhailovna smiled victoriously. “Then the money will go toward Igor’s car. You can wait. It’ll do you good.”
At that moment, a key turned in the lock. Viktor had returned. I ran into the hallway, not hiding my tears.
“Vitya! Your mother tore up my referral for surgery! She demands that we give the money to Igor for a car!”
Viktor looked confused, shifting his gaze from me to his mother as she came out of the kitchen.
“What? What car?” he asked in bewilderment.
“Vitenka, sweetheart,” Nadezhda Mikhailovna instantly changed her tone to a plaintive one, “you know how much Igor dreams of a car. He tried so hard, studied so hard… And now there just happens to be money. Lena can wait. Nothing terrible will happen to her.”
Viktor frowned.
“Mom, we took out that loan specifically for Lena’s operation. The doctors said it can’t be postponed.”
“Doctors!” Nadezhda Mikhailovna snorted. “What do they know? And Igor is your own brother! Don’t you feel sorry for him? All his friends already have cars, and he’s the only one left looking like a loser.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Viktor was clearly starting to get angry. “Lena is my wife, and her health is more important to me than Igor’s car. That is not even up for discussion.”
Nadezhda Mikhailovna’s face changed. Her lips pressed into a thin line.
“So that’s how it is? So this… this woman is more important than your own mother and brother? Who is she anyway? A wife! Big deal! I gave birth to you! I raised you!”
I stood leaning against the wall, feeling completely shattered. My head was spinning, nausea rising in my throat. Viktor noticed my condition, quickly came over, and put his arm around my shoulders.
“Lena, you mustn’t get upset. Go lie down. I’ll handle this.”
I obediently went into the bedroom but left the door slightly open. I wanted to hear what Viktor would say to his mother.
“Mom,” my husband’s voice sounded firm, “what you did is unforgivable. You tore up an important medical document and suggested depriving my wife of a necessary operation for the sake of Igor’s whim.”
“A whim?!” Nadezhda Mikhailovna shrieked. “A car is not a whim! It’s a necessity nowadays!”
“For unemployed Igor, who only got his license yesterday, a car is definitely a whim,” Viktor snapped. “But Lena’s operation is a necessity. And I will not allow you to interfere in our affairs. It is our loan, our money, and we decide what to spend it on.”
“Fine, then!” There were tears in Nadezhda Mikhailovna’s voice. “Abandon your mother, betray your brother! I knew she would turn you against us!”
“Mom, enough,” Viktor said wearily. “Lena has never said anything bad about you or Igor. Unlike you, who constantly takes digs at her. And now this… I think it’s better if you leave.”
There was noise, the sound of a cabinet door slamming, then the front door. My mother-in-law left, slamming it so hard the walls shook.
Viktor came into the bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed.
“I’m sorry for all of this. I didn’t think Mom was capable of doing something like that.”
“She tore up the referral,” I said, pointing to the scraps of paper I had gathered. “What do we do now?”
“Don’t worry,” he said, taking my hand. “Tomorrow we’ll go to your doctor, explain the situation, and he’ll issue a new one. I already called him. He knows.”
I nodded, feeling relieved. Then I asked cautiously:
“And what about your mother and Igor? She won’t leave us alone.”
Viktor sighed.
“I think it’s time to set boundaries. I love my mother, but I won’t let her hurt you. If she can’t respect my wife, then she can keep her distance.”
I pressed myself against him, feeling protected and grateful. For the first time in all those years, Viktor had so openly taken my side against his mother.
The next day, we received a new referral. The doctor, an elderly man with kind eyes, only shook his head when he heard our story.
“You know, in thirty years of practice, I’ve seen a lot, but a mother-in-law tearing up medical documents… That’s something new.”
The operation was successful. Viktor stayed by my side the entire time, supporting me and helping me with everything. We heard nothing from my mother-in-law for about a month. Then she called Viktor, but she did not apologize. Instead, she informed him that Igor had bought a car after all — an old Volkswagen, on credit. And he had already scratched it because he “hadn’t learned how to park yet.”
When I had fully recovered from the operation, Viktor and I decided to move to another district. Farther from his mother, closer to my work. Nadezhda Mikhailovna was furious when she found out, but there was nothing she could do. Viktor stood firm: our family was him and me, and no one had the right to interfere in our decisions.
Igor wrecked the car three months later. Fortunately, he wasn’t hurt, but the car was beyond repair. The loan remained, but the car was gone. Nadezhda Mikhailovna came running to us, demanding that we help pay off the debt. Viktor politely but firmly refused, reminding her how she had treated my operation.
A year passed. Viktor and I bought a small but cozy apartment with a mortgage. My mother-in-law became more restrained in her remarks, especially when she found out that I was finally pregnant — the doctors had said that after the operation, my chances of becoming pregnant had significantly increased.
At a family dinner, where we invited parents from both sides, Nadezhda Mikhailovna unexpectedly came up to me and said quietly:
“Forgive me for that incident with the referral. I was wrong.”
I nodded, accepting the apology. Not that I had forgotten or fully forgiven her, but I decided not to hold a grudge. After all, she was now going to be my child’s grandmother. And children should not grow up in an atmosphere of hostility.
Viktor, who had heard our conversation, put his arm around my shoulders and smiled.
“You see, people can change. Even my mother.”
And I smiled back, placing my hand on my still very small belly. In the end, everything turned out well. I recovered, Viktor and I became stronger as a couple, we learned to protect the boundaries of our family, and even my mother-in-law seemed to have begun understanding that she had been wrong.
Sometimes the most difficult trials help put everything in its proper place and make you understand what truly matters in life.