At 52, I had a stroke. «The trip’s paid for, get better,» my husband said, then jetted off to the Maldives with the kids….

Pamela was carefully transferred to a stretcher. At the last moment, just before the doors, she found the strength to weakly squeeze her daughter’s hand, as if trying to say, don’t worry, I’ll make it. In the hospital’s emergency room, everything happened quickly.

The attending neurologist, a full woman with short hair, quickly examined Pamela. Clear signs of ischemic stroke. Immediate CT and transfer to intensive care.

Pamela’s stretcher disappeared behind double doors, leaving a confused Miguel in the corridor. He sank into a plastic chair, his face hidden in his hands. The phone in his pocket vibrated incessantly, Victoria and Mateo demanding news.

The doctor emerged two hours later. Are you Mr. Miguel Vincente? Yes, Miguel jumped up. How is she? Ischemic stroke in the middle cerebral artery pool.

Her condition is serious but stable. We’ve administered thrombolytics and carried out initial procedures. She’s now in the ICU and the next 24 hours will be critical.

Will she survive? Miguel’s voice faltered. The prognosis is cautiously positive. It’s good that she was brought in so quickly, but recovery will be long and difficult.

Right side paralysis, speech impairment. The doctor spoke and Miguel felt the ground slip away from under his feet. You can visit her tomorrow if her condition stabilizes.

Miguel returned home in the evening, exhausted by the hospital waiting and bureaucracy. Victoria and Mateo met him in the hallway. Well, what do they say? Victoria was pale, her eyes red from crying.

Stroke, Miguel replied tiredly, taking off his coat. Serious? She’s in the ICU. Oh my God, Victoria whispered.

What now? Mateo asked. When will they release her? I don’t know, son, Miguel walked into the kitchen, mechanically putting the kettle on. The doctor said that even if everything goes well, recovery will take months.

The knife that had fallen from Pamela’s hand was still lying in the kitchen, the vegetables half cut on the chopping board. Time seemed to stop here. Mateo wiped his forehead.

What about the Maldives? We fly in three days. Miguel and Victoria looked at him, confused. What Maldives now? Victoria snapped.

Don’t you get it? Mom’s in the hospital with a stroke. I get it, Mateo snapped back. It’s just, everything was paid for, booked.

Mom worked so hard for this. I’m just wondering what we do with the tickets and the reservation now. Miguel sank heavily into a chair.

I don’t know. We’ll have to check the paperwork, maybe we can get at least part of the money back. The next three days passed in the hospital corridors.

Pamela was moved from the ICU to a regular ward, but a long road to recovery lay ahead. Her right side barely worked, her speech was impaired, but her consciousness remained clear, and as the doctor had said, that was a good sign. On the fourth day, Miguel, Victoria, and Mateo entered her hospital room.

Pamela propped herself up on the pillows at their entrance. Pale, drawn, with a vacant look, she seemed like just a shadow of the strong, energetic Pamela she once was. Hi, she said quietly, struggling to say the word.

How do you feel? Miguel sat on the edge of the bed, but instead of flowers or fruit, he held a leather folder with documents. The doctors say rehabilitation will take at least six months, Pamela replied slowly, struggling to articulate. An awkward pause hung in the air.

Victoria nervously fiddled with the strap of her bag, a birthday gift for her mother. Mom, we’ve been thinking about the Maldives trip she finally began. Yes, it will have to be postponed, Pamela answered with effort.

Actually, Miguel cleared his throat, avoiding his wife’s gaze. Pamela, we spoke with the travel agency. Postponing or cancelling will cost almost the full amount.

Essentially, it’s money down the drain. Pamela felt a chill run down her spine. What are you suggesting? Every syllable was difficult for her, but she had to understand what her husband was implying.

The tickets are already paid for, darling, just focus on getting better. Miguel tried to smile, but it came out guilty. We’re going to fly as planned.

You need rest, treatment now. And we, well, it would be foolish to lose all that money. Pamela stared at them, not believing her ears…