Husband Wants to Unplug Mother's Oxygen,Reborn, I Didn't Stop Him

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My mother-in-law was gravely ill, and the medical account was empty.

My husband knelt in front of me, crying, begging me. Only you can save her, he said. He even pretended he was going to pull out her oxygen tube and give up on treatment.

I couldn't bear it. I sold my premarital property cheap and dragged my mother-in-law back from death's door.

And what did she do once she was discharged? Not a word of thanks. She complained that I hadn't let her die in peace, that I'd condemned her to a life worse than death.

While I was cooking, she made trouble on purpose and knocked a whole pot of hot oil onto me.

I was badly scalded.

No one took me to the hospital. They lied to me instead, said the family had an ancestral secret remedy that cured burns.

After I used it, the infection set in. My organs failed one by one, and I died.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day my husband made his decision.

1

"Where's Marcia Lawrence's family?"

The familiar shout jolted me awake.

The moment my eyes opened, Dr. Armstrong, her attending physician, was walking toward me.

"The patient's medical account is out of money. You need to pay the fees."

Hearing the same words again, I couldn't help glancing at Egbert Chavez, shrinking into the far end of the hallway. To keep from being spotted, he'd even stuck his head out the window.

I came back to myself and pointed Dr. Armstrong toward him.

In my last life I'd stupidly gone back and forth with Dr. Armstrong, and learned my mother-in-law could be cured for only four or five hundred thousand. Then Egbert knelt in front of me, begging and begging, and like a fool I agreed to let him sell off my premarital house cheap.

Every cent went to treating her illness, and in the end...

I drew a deep breath and followed behind Dr. Armstrong. This time I wanted to see whether Egbert planned to run the same trick.

Pretend to pull the tube and give up treatment, then drop to his knees and beg me?

"Mr. Chavez, the patient's medical account is empty. If you don't pay soon, she'll have to be moved to a general ward. Given her condition, moving her is the same as giving up on treatment..."

"I don't have money." Egbert cut Dr. Armstrong off.

He pointed at me. "My wife handles the money. Ask her!"

After we married, Egbert gave me five hundred a month for living expenses, but in front of other people he always said I handled the money. The truth was I didn't even know how much he earned.

I gave a bitter little laugh. Before, to save his face, I'd never called him out in front of anyone. I'd swallowed the broken teeth and the blood with them.

"You give me five hundred a month, and I have to cover the groceries out of my own pocket. The whole time your mother's been in the hospital, it's been my savings paying for it. I can't print money. Where would I have any left?"

Egbert stared at me, stunned.

"If nobody has money, then let's just stop the treatment!"

Dr. Armstrong didn't understand what was really going on and offered a well-meaning reminder.

"If you give up now, everything spent on her treatment so far is wasted."

Just as I'd expected, Egbert turned pitiful and started pleading with me.

This time I chose to look right through him.

He couldn't understand why I'd turned so cold all of a sudden. Frustrated, he muttered, "Is there really nothing we can do?"

I spread my hands, looking heartbroken. "I really don't have any money."

Egbert hadn't expected me to refuse so flatly.

Unwilling to let it go, he asked, "What about your house?"

Watching him finally ask it, so full of righteous nerve, I couldn't help rolling my eyes.

"The house is in my mother's name..."

"You'd really stand there and watch my mother die?"

Same as last life. Here came the guilt trip.

Last time I'd thought money could always be earned back, but a person once gone was gone for good. I didn't want him left with regret, and I never once questioned his motives. So I talked my mother around, and we scraped the money together to treat Marcia's illness.

And after she was discharged?

All day long she complained about how miserable it was to drag on sick and half-dead, how a quick death would have been so much better.

After she came home, her whole temper changed. Everything about me set her off. She could perfectly well use the toilet herself, but she'd soil herself on purpose just to make me clean it up.

If I was slow about it, she'd curse me up and down.

I treated her as a sick woman. No matter how vile her words got, I let it go. And she didn't rein it in. She only pushed harder, until she'd driven me into my grave.

I gave money and I gave labor, and in return I became her sworn enemy.

Since heaven had given me another chance, I would not let myself get shoved into that pit again.

I asked Egbert, my voice hard, "Then what about you? You're her son."