After chemotherapy, I returned home and saw that my belongings were standing on the doorstep: my daughter-in-law had thrown me out of the house, saying, “I don’t want to catch anything from you” 

At that moment, she had no idea what lesson fate had prepared for her  

At 60 years old, I heard the most terrifying words of my life: “You have brain cancer.” The doctor spoke calmly, explaining the treatment options, but I barely heard anything. My head was ringing. The world seemed to shrink to a single office and a single sentence.

We started chemotherapy immediately, and I spent almost a month in the hospital. The days dragged on slowly, and the nights were especially hard. I waited for my son or my daughter-in-law to come, at least to call. I thought it was simply too painful for them to see me like that — weak, without hair, a stranger to myself. I made excuses for them however I could.

When the treatment ended, I returned home. I stepped onto the porch and immediately knew something was wrong. My belongings were standing by the door. Bags, clothes, even old photographs. I knocked. The door didn’t open. Then my daughter-in-law came out. She had a bottle of water and a cloth in her hands. She didn’t even look me in the eyes. She began wiping the railing, the door, the doormat — everything I had touched.

“You’re contagious. I don’t want you living in our house,” she said coldly.

I tried to explain that cancer is not contagious, that it isn’t an infection, that I was still her husband’s mother. I spoke quietly because I had almost no strength left. She didn’t listen. My son stood beside her and said nothing. That silence was enough. I understood that I was no longer welcome there.

I left. I simply turned around and walked away. I returned to the hospital — the only place where no one was afraid of me and no one chased me away.

But my daughter-in-law had no idea what punishment awaited her.  I told the continuation of my story in the first comment 

Several months passed. The test results improved. Then the doctor said the tumor had retreated. The scans were clear. I should have been happy, but the joy was quiet and cautious. During all that time, neither my son nor my daughter-in-law called even once.

And one day the phone rang. It was my daughter-in-law. She was screaming, crying, accusing.

“It’s all your fault. You infected me. Because of you, I’m sick.”

I didn’t understand at first what she was talking about. Then I found out. She had been diagnosed with a tumor on her vocal cords. An urgent operation was needed. The doctors didn’t know if she would be able to speak afterward.

That is how fate decided in its own way. But honestly, I felt no sense of triumph. No matter how cruel a person may be, I wouldn’t wish anyone to go through what I went through myself. I know what it’s like to be afraid every day and not know whether there will be a tomorrow.