Abandoned Hope

My mom's illness wasn't serious.

She had early-stage pneumonia. The doctor said that as long as she stayed in the hospital and focused on recovering, she had a 90% chance of making a full recovery.

The only inconvenience was that she had to remain hospitalized.

So I told my husband, Blaine Ramsey, "It's Christmas Eve, and my mom's all alone at the hospital. After I finish making dinner, I'd like to go spend the evening with her."

Blaine was in the middle of a video game. Without even looking up, he replied, "Sure. Up to you."

So I went grocery shopping, cooked, cleaned, and bustled around the house. By the time everyone had finished eating and was happily enjoying themselves, I finally had a chance to leave.

I packed up the meal I'd set aside for my mom and headed for the door, ready to spend Christmas Eve with her at the hospital.

Just as I was about to walk out, I heard the words that stopped me cold.

"Stop her treatment? What do you mean?" I turned to stare at Blaine.

He lowered his head and stayed silent.

My mother-in-law, Rosalia Ramsey, however, answered with an impatient glare, "It means exactly what he said. Your mother's treatment should stop. Her illness is nothing but a bottomless pit that's going to swallow who knows how much money."

She grumbled loudly enough for the entire family to hear, her voice dripping with contempt. It was as if the woman she was talking about were some stranger instead of her own in-law, my mother.

Clutching the lunch box, I tried to reason with her.

"The doctor said she has a 90% chance of making a full recovery. After surgery and about two years of rehabilitation, she'll be fine. She has medical insurance, so after reimbursement, it won't even cost that much."

My sister-in-law, Aviana Ramsey, rolled her eyes. "Doesn't that still mean there's a 10% chance she won't make it?

"And even if she does recover, she'll just be useless. She doesn't have a pension. She'll end up relying on Blaine to support her anyway.

"So why not stop the treatment now? At least she won't drag everyone else down.”

When she finished, she casually muttered to Rosalia, "I can't believe someone has the nerve to spend her husband's family's money treating her own mother."

Every word stabbed into me like a needle.

I looked at Blaine. "Is that what you think too?"

He kept his head lowered and didn't say a word. That silence was answer enough.

My father, Edward Simmons, died when I was young. My mother, Deborah Simmons, raised me by herself, working in an electronics factory.

Blaine and I had been married for three years.

When it came time to buy our home, his family refused to contribute a single cent. My mother took the savings she'd spent a lifetime building and paid for the entire house in cash.