The doctor gave her a stern glance. “Well, miss, if you want to be admitted, you need to pay. But after seeing your condition, I don’t think you can afford the treatment here!”
“But doctor, please…”
Before Anna could complete her sentence, the doctor cut her off. “Can you please stop shouting! I don’t care whether you die in pain! Remember, no money, no treatment. And if you continue acting like this, I will kick you out of here!”
Anna was about to give birth on the doorstep. She thought of requesting the doctor once again, but before she could say anything, he slammed the clinic door in her face and went inside.
Dejected, Anna decided to go to another hospital. However, the pain was so intense that she couldn’t move a bit. So she just sat there, gripping her stomach and looking for someone to assist her.
Luckily, a kind doctor came out of the clinic and offered her help. “Please come with me, ma’am,” he told Anna as he approached her. “I’ll save your child no matter what!” With that, the doctor escorted her inside, set up a separate ward for her, and ensured that Anna’s delivery went smoothly.
Not long after, Anna delivered a baby boy, but the baby was premature and had to be placed in the NICU immediately.
Poor Anna was so exhausted after the delivery that she didn’t wake up until the next morning when she discovered the obnoxious doctor by her side. “What the hell? Since when did this clinic start admitting beggars like you?!” He looked at her angrily.
“Anyway, It’s not too late to clean the mess. So get up and get out of the hospital!” he added and started “escorting” Anna out of the hospital.
Luckily, at that moment, the kind doctor, Dr. Paul Warner, came in. “Dr. Morgan, what are you doing? She gave birth yesterday, and she’s still weak!” he retorted.
Dr. Morgan gave a fierce glance to Dr. Warner. “Stay out of this, Paul! I’m your senior, and I know what’s best for the clinic. We can’t admit her without the fees! That’s a rule!”
“If that’s the case, I’ll pay her fees,” Dr. Warner said firmly. “But I’m not letting her leave until she and her baby recover completely!”
Dr. Morgan burst out laughing. “You’re such a knucklehead, Paul. I don’t think your bank account will allow it!”
“You don’t need to worry about that doctor,” Dr. Warner continued. “I will pay the bills by tomorrow morning. Mark my words!”
“Alright! But if you’re not able to pay the fees, I’ll kick her out,” Dr. Morgan almost yelled and walked away.
The next day, Anna was on her way to the washroom when she met Dr. Morgan again. “I checked with the accounts department, and the payment hasn’t been made. So pack your bags and get out of this place ASAP!” he ordered her.
“Doctor, just give me until the afternoon. My husband is on his way, and he’ll take care of everything,” Anna assured him.
Dr. Morgan sighed and rolled his eyes. “Do you really want me to believe that? Aren’t you just making up excuses so that you can stay here?”
“Well, doctor, if I’m making excuses, you can throw me out of here in the afternoon!” Anna said firmly and walked away.
To Dr. Morgans’ surprise, Anna’s husband actually showed up at the clinic that afternoon. But when Dr. Morgan saw him, he couldn’t believe his eyes!
“Mr. Carter, you?” he inquired, surprised.
“Yes, David. It’s me. My wife told me everything, and I can’t believe you treated a pregnant woman like that!”
It turned out that Anna was going to give birth in Germany, but her labor began early while her husband was away on a business trip. Anna considered approaching this luxury clinic for assistance because her husband was the primary sponsor there.
Since the pain was severe, she didn’t waste time changing her clothes and went there in her nightgown, forgetting her phone in the process. Dr. Warner kindly offered her his phone, allowing her to contact her husband.
When Dr. Morgan saw her outside the hospital, he mistook her for a poor woman and threatened to kick her out. But now that Dr. Morgan knew Anna wasn’t any random woman asking for help, he realized he had invited huge trouble for himself.
“I had no idea she was your wife, Sir,” Dr. Morgan said quietly. “I apologize for the mistreatment. ”
“How does it matter, David?” Mr. Carter almost yelled at him. “How can you behave like that with any pregnant woman!”
“Well, Sir. I won’t…”
Before Dr. Morgan could finish, Mr. Carter cut him off. “No, David. Nothing can explain what you did. And you should be punished for it. Therefore, I’m firing you! I hope this way you’ll learn your lesson.”
“But Sir, then the maternity ward won’t have a head doctor. Moreover, there aren’t many senior doctors here, and it may take the clinic some time to find one!” Dr. Morgan expressed his thoughts. “So, at the very least, let me stay here till then!”
Mr. Carter smiled at him. “You don’t need to worry about that, doctor! I have appointed someone as the head already,” he said and called Dr. Warner inside. “Let me introduce you to Dr. Warner, the new head.”
Dr. Morgan was shocked. “But Sir, he’s still young, and he’s inexperienced!”
“Well, he deserves to be a doctor and the head, considering how he decided to aid a pregnant woman without considering her status or whether she would have money!”
Dr. Morgan didn’t utter a word. He stood silently with his head bowed down.
Mr. Carter continued. “I don’t think you qualify as a doctor, David. A doctor would always try their best to save a patient! So, please leave and don’t come back here ever again!”
Dr. Morgan walked out of the clinic, embarrassed by what he’d done.
What can we learn from this story?
Don’t judge a book by its cover.
Learn to be humble and kind like Dr. Warner.
Good people always get goodness in return.
Share this story with your friends. It might brighten their day and inspire them.
My 16-Year-Old Son Went to Stay with His Grandmother for the Summer – One Day, I Got a Call from Her
When my 16-year-old son offered to spend the summer taking care of his disabled grandmother, I thought he’d finally turned a corner. But one night, a terrifying call from my mother shattered that hope.
“Please, come save me from him!” my mother’s voice whispered through the phone, barely a breath.
A scared elderly woman talking on her phone | Source: Midjourney
Her words were sharp with fear, a tone I’d never heard from her. My stomach knotted. Before I could respond, the line went dead.
I stared at my phone, disbelief mixing with shock. My strong, fiercely independent mother was scared. And I knew exactly who “him” was.
An angry woman | Source: Pexels
My son had always been a handful, but lately, he’d crossed new lines. At sixteen, he was testing every boundary he could find. Rebellious, headstrong, a walking storm of attitude and defiance.
I remembered him coming home from school, slinging his backpack down with a certain grin that I didn’t recognize. “I was thinking about going to Grandma’s this summer,” he’d said. “I mean, you’re always saying she could use more company. I could keep an eye on her.”
A smiling teenager | Source: Pexels
My first reaction was surprise and a little pride. Maybe he was turning over a new leaf, becoming responsible. But looking back now, as I sped down the darkening highway, his words nagged at me in a way they hadn’t before.
I’d blinked, surprised. “You… want to go stay with Grandma? You usually can’t wait to get out of there.”
A shocked woman | Source: Pexels
“I’ll help take care of her,” he’d said. “You could even let the caregiver go, Mom. Save some money, you know?”
The more I drove, the more pieces of our recent conversations slipped into place in my mind, forming a picture I didn’t like.
“People change,” he’d shrugged with a strange smile. Then he looked up at me with a half-smile. “I mean, I’m almost a man now, right?”
A smiling teenage boy with a phone | Source: Pexels
I’d brushed it off then, thinking maybe he was finally growing up. But now, that smile felt… off. Not warm or genuine, but like he was playing a part.
As I drove, I remembered other details, things I’d dismissed at the time. A week into his stay, I’d called, wanting to check on my mother directly. He’d answered, cheerful but too fast, like he was steering the call. “Hey, Mom! Grandma’s asleep. She said she’s too tired to talk tonight, but I’ll tell her you called.”
A concerned woman on her phone | Source: Freepik
Why didn’t I push harder?
My mind raced back to how it all began. It had been just the two of us since his father left when he was two. I’d tried to give him what he needed to stay grounded. But since he hit his teenage years, the small cracks had started widening.
An angry teenage boy | Source: Freepik
The only person who seemed to get through to him now and then was my mother. She had a way of disarming him, though even she admitted he was “testing her patience.”
I dialed my mother’s number again, willing her to pick up. My thumb tapped the screen anxiously, but still, nothing.
The sky darkened as the houses became sparse, her rural neighborhood just up ahead. With every mile, my mind replayed his too-smooth excuses, his charming act.
A woman on her phone in her car | Source: Freepik
As I pulled up to my mother’s house, a chill ran through me. Her lawn, once so tidy, was now overgrown, weeds tangling around the porch steps. The shutters had peeling paint, and the lights were off, as though no one had been home in weeks.
I stepped out of the car, feeling disbelief twisting into a sick anger. Beer bottles and crushed soda cans littered the porch. I could even smell cigarette smoke drifting out through the open window.
A littered porch | Source: Midjourney
My hands shook as I reached for the door, pushing it open.
And there, right in front of me, was chaos.
Strangers filled the living room laughing, drinking, shouting over the music. Half of them looked old enough to be college kids, others barely looked out of high school. My heart twisted, a mixture of fury and heartache flooding through me.
A furious woman | Source: Pexels
“Where is he?” I whispered, scanning the crowd, disbelief giving way to a focused rage. I shouldered through people, calling his name. “Excuse me! Move!”
A girl sprawled on the couch glanced up at me, blinking lazily. “Hey, lady, chill out. We’re just having fun,” she slurred, waving a bottle in my direction.
“Where’s my mother?” I snapped, barely able to hold back the edge in my voice.
A shouting woman | Source: Pexels
The girl just shrugged, unconcerned. “Dunno. Haven’t seen any old lady here.”
Ignoring her, I continued through the packed room, shouting my son’s name over the blaring music. I looked from face to face, my heart pounding faster with every step. Every second that passed made the house feel more like a stranger’s, more like a place my mother would never allow, let alone live in.
Teenagers partying | Source: Pexels
“Mom!” I called, my voice desperate as I reached the end of the hall, near her bedroom door. It was closed, the handle faintly scratched, as though it’d been opened and closed a hundred times in the last hour alone.
I knocked hard, heart racing. “Mom? Are you in there? It’s me!”
A weak, trembling voice replied, barely audible over the noise. “I’m here. Please—just get me out.”
A woman knocking frantically into the closed door | Source: Midjourney
I felt a wave of relief and horror as I fumbled with the handle and threw the door open. There she was, sitting on the bed, her face pale and drawn, eyes rimmed with exhaustion. Her hair was mussed, and I could see dark circles under her eyes.
“Oh, Mom…” I crossed the room in a heartbeat, falling to my knees beside her and wrapping my arms around her.
An elderly woman covering her ears | Source: Freepik
Her hand, frail but steady, clutched mine. “He started with just a few friends,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. “But when I told him to stop, he got angry. He… he said I was just getting in the way.” Her voice wavered. “He started locking me in here. Said I was… ruining his fun.”
A sickening wave of anger surged through me. I’d been blind, foolish enough to believe my son’s promise to “help out.” I took a shaky breath, stroking her hand. “I’m going to fix this, Mom. I swear.”
An elderly woman in her bedroom | Source: Freepik
She nodded, gripping my hand, her own fingers cold and trembling. “You have to.”
I walked back to the living room, my jaw clenched so tight it hurt. And there was my son, leaning against the wall, laughing with a group of older kids.
When he looked up and saw me, his face went pale.
“Mom? What… what are you doing here?”
A shocked teenage boy | Source: Freepik
“What am I doing here?” I echoed, my voice steady with a calm I didn’t feel. “What are you doing here? Look around! Look at what you’ve done to your grandmother’s home!”
He shrugged, trying to play it cool, but I saw his mask slipping. “It’s just a party. You don’t have to freak out.”
“Get everyone out of here. Now.” My voice was steel, and this time, it cut through the noise. The whole room seemed to freeze. “I’m calling the police if this house isn’t empty in the next two minutes.”
A furious woman | Source: Freepik
One by one, the partiers shuffled out, murmuring and stumbling toward the door. The house cleared out, leaving only broken furniture, empty bottles, and my son, who now stood alone in the wreckage he’d made.
When the last guest was gone, I turned to him. “I trusted you. Your grandmother trusted you. And this is how you repay her? This is what you thought ‘helping’ looked like?”
A woman confronting her son | Source: Midjourney
He shrugged, a defensive sneer twisting his face. “She didn’t need the space. You’re always on my case, Mom. I just wanted some freedom!”
“Freedom?” My voice shook with disbelief. “You’re going to learn what responsibility is.” I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of each word. “You’re going to a summer camp with strict rules, and I’m selling your electronics, everything valuable, to pay for the damage. You don’t get a single ‘freedom’ until you earn it.”
An angry woman in her living room | Source: Midjourney
“What?” His bravado faltered, fear flickering in his eyes. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I am,” I said, voice colder than I’d ever heard it. “And if you don’t change, you’re out of the house when you turn eighteen. I’m done with excuses.”
The next day, I sent him off to camp. His protests, his anger all faded as the summer passed, and for the first time, he was forced to face the consequences.
A teenage boy in a camp | Source: Pexels
As I repaired my mother’s house that summer, I felt the pieces of our family begin to mend. Bit by bit, room by room, I cleared the broken glass, patched up the walls, and held on to hope that my son would come home a different person.
After that summer, I saw my son start to change. He grew quieter, steadier, spending evenings studying instead of disappearing with friends.
A boy doing his homework | Source: Pexels
Small acts like helping around the house, apologizing without being prompted became routine. Each day, he seemed more aware, more respectful, like he was finally becoming the man I’d hoped for.
Two years later, I watched him walk up my mother’s steps again, head bowed. He was a successful gentleman now, about to graduate school with honors and enroll in a nice college. In his hand was a bouquet, his gaze sincere and soft in a way I’d never seen.
A young man with flowers | Source: Freepik
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” he said, his voice thick with regret. I held my breath, watching as the boy I’d fought to raise offered her a piece of his heart.
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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