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 Neighbors Left a Note That Shattered My Heart — My Granddaughter Discovered It and Gave Them a Learning Experience
The music I played on my piano was my last link to my late husband. But cruel neighbors shattered that joy with a hurtful message on my wall. When my granddaughter found out, she made things right, leaving those entitled neighbors scratching their heads.
“Oh, Jerry, did you love it today, darling?” I asked softly, the last notes of “Clair de Lune” filling my cozy living room as my fingers lifted from the ivory piano keys. My eyes fixed on the framed photo of my late husband, Jerry. His kind eyes seemed to twinkle back at me, just as they had for over fifty years of our marriage…
Willie, my tabby cat, stretched lazily near my feet, purring contentedly. I reached down to scratch behind his ears, feeling the familiar ache in my chest as I carefully lifted Jerry’s photo.
“I miss you so much, darling. It’s been five years, but sometimes… sometimes it feels like yesterday.”
Pressing a gentle kiss to the cool glass, I whispered, “Time for dinner, my love. I’ll play your favorite before bed, okay? ‘Moon River,’ just like always.”
As I set the frame back down, I could almost hear Jerry’s warm chuckle. “You spoil me, Bessie,” he’d say, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
I shuffled towards the kitchen, pausing to look back at the piano, my constant companion these past 72 years.
“What would I do without you?” I murmured, running my hand along its polished surface.
That night, as I lay in bed, I whispered into the darkness, “Goodnight, Jerry. I’ll see you in my dreams.”
The next morning, I was lost in Chopin’s “Nocturne in E-flat major” when a sharp rap on my window startled me. My fingers stumbled, the music cutting off abruptly.
A red-faced man glared at me through the glass. He was my new neighbor.
“Hey, lady!” he shouted, his voice muffled. “Cut out that racket! You’re keeping the whole neighborhood awake with your pathetic plinking!”
I stared at him, shocked. “I… I’m so sorry,” I stammered, even as a small voice in my head protested. It was barely 11 a.m., and none of my other neighbors had ever complained before.
The man stomped away, leaving me trembling. I closed the lid of the piano, my sanctuary suddenly feeling tainted.
The next day, I closed all the windows before sitting down to play. The music felt muffled and constrained, but I hoped it would keep the peace.
I was barely ten minutes into Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” when my doorbell rang insistently. With a heavy heart, I answered it.
A woman with pinched features glared at me. “Listen here, old lady,” she spat. “The grave’s calling, and you’re still banging on that piano? Cut the noise, or I’ll report you to the HOA!”
It was only then that I understood she was my new neighbor’s wife.
I felt like I’d been slapped. “I… I closed all the windows,” I said weakly.
“Well, it’s not enough!” she snapped, turning on her heel. “Quit making noise with your stupid piano!”
I slumped against the door frame, tears welling in my eyes. “Oh, Jerry,” I whispered. “What do I do?”
I could almost hear his voice, gentle but firm. “You play, Bessie. You play your heart out. Don’t stop… for anyone.”
But as I sat at the piano, my fingers hovering over the keys, I couldn’t bring myself to press down.
Days passed, and I tried everything. I taped cardboard over the windows, played only in short bursts, even considered moving the piano to the basement where it might not be heard.
But nothing seemed to satisfy my new neighbors, the Grinches, as I’d started calling them in my head.
The thought of being separated from my cherished instrument, even by a flight of stairs, made my heart ache. This piano wasn’t just an object; it was an extension of my soul, a living connection to Jerry and our life together.
Forgetting about those bothersome neighbors for a moment, I lost myself in the music as I played the piano that night.
The next morning, I stepped outside to tend to my small herb garden. The sight that greeted me stopped me cold.
The cruel words “SHUT UP!” were spray-painted across the wall in angry red letters.
I sank to my knees and wept. “Jerry, I can’t do this anymore.”
That day, for the first time in decades, I didn’t touch my piano.
As night fell, I sat in Jerry’s armchair, clutching his photo. “I’m so sorry, my love. I just don’t have the strength to fight anymore.”
The shrill ring of the telephone startled me from my thoughts. I fumbled for the receiver.
“Hello?”
“Mom? It’s me,” my son Jacob’s warm voice filled the line. “How are you doing?”
I swallowed hard, fighting back tears. “Oh, I’m fine, sweetie. Just a quiet day at home.”
There was a pause. “Mom, you don’t sound fine. Is everything alright?”
I sighed, debating whether to burden him with my troubles. “It’s nothing, really. Just… some issues with the new neighbors.”
“Issues? What kind of issues?”
I found myself spilling everything… the complaints, the threats, the vandalism.
“I don’t know what to do anymore, honey. I feel so… lost.”
“Oh, Mom, why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have helped.”
“I didn’t want to worry you. You have your own life, your own problems.”
“Mom, you’re never a burden. Never. Your music has brought joy to so many people over the years. Remember all those Christmas parties? The school recitals you played for? You’re not a nuisance… you’re a treasure.”
“Listen, I’m going to call Melissa. She’s closer. Maybe she can come check on you. And we’ll figure this out together, okay?” Jacob finished.
As I hung up the phone, I felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe I wasn’t alone in this after all.
Days crawled by. My piano sat untouched, gathering dust. I felt like a part of me was withering away.
One evening, a loud knock startled me from my melancholy. I opened the door to find my granddaughter Melissa standing there, her face glowing with a warm smile.
“Surprise, Nana!” she exclaimed, enveloping me in a tight hug.
As she pulled back, her eyes widened in horror. “Nana, who did this to your wall?”
I burst into tears, the whole story spilling out between sobs. Melissa’s expression darkened with each word.
Leave a Reply