Lyudmila Andreevna had always been a disciplined and responsible person. Every day she arrived at the clinic twenty minutes earlier than her scheduled time—not just out of habit, but to have time to check the wards, review patient records, and make sure everything was ready for the start of her shift. For her, it was more than a routine—it was a ritual, a way to begin the workday with a clear conscience and a clear mind.
That day, nothing seemed to threaten trouble. The morning was warm and sunny, and Lyudmila was walking through the hospital corridors as usual, hearing the familiar sounds: footsteps of the medical staff, the clicking of heels, patients’ voices. But suddenly the chief physician called her:
“Lyudmila Andreevna! There has been a complaint filed against you. Directly to the ministry.”
Her heart seemed to stop. She instantly understood what it was about. Recently, an elderly man had been admitted with acute pancreatitis. His relatives were convinced he had been poisoned during a celebration and demanded immediate stomach pumping. However, relying on her experience and knowledge, Lyudmila made the correct diagnosis and began proper treatment. Thanks to her, the patient’s life was saved.
The chief physician looked coldly, without sympathy:
“Do you understand what this means? Inspections, commissions… I can only offer one thing—resignation.”
She couldn’t believe her ears. After decades of devoted work, after countless nights spent by patients’ beds, they wanted to make her the scapegoat?
At home, in her modest apartment where every corner was filled with care and love, her son Andrey—a twelve-year-old boy who had never seen his mother outside of work—greeted her. He asked fearfully:
“Mom, what will happen to us now?”
In his entire life, Andrey could not remember a single day when his mother was not working. Even on vacation, she found something to do—helping the family with the garden or repairs. So the question about the future sounded especially frightening.
“Nothing to worry about, son,” she smiled, though inside she trembled. “We’ll find something.”
But the next morning brought an even bigger blow. The dismissal documents bore the phrase: “for repeated violations of work duties.” It was unfair and harsh. With such a “stigma,” no one would hire her even for the simplest job.
Lyudmila sat on a bench in the park, sorting through her thoughts. She wanted to return to the hospital, demand explanations, confront them. But can you reason with someone who has already done something mean? No, better to start over.
Then she decided to try to find work on the internet. She happened upon an ad: “Article writer needed on medical topics.” Even as a student, Lyudmila loved reading scientific journals, taking notes, systematizing information. Now that interest became a source of income. She got to work enthusiastically, and soon orders started pouring in one after another.
Seeing how hard her mother worked, Andrey became her most reliable helper. He cleaned, cooked, even learned to heat up soup when Lyudmila was absorbed in her computer work.
“Mom, you forgot to eat,” he said one day, placing a bowl of hot soup in front of her.
“Oh, thank you, my dear. Time really flies behind this screen!”
But living on article writing alone wasn’t enough. Something else was needed. Then Lyudmila remembered her favorite herbs. Many medicinal plants grew around the village. Since childhood, she knew their properties, brewed teas, made herbal blends. Why not turn it into a business?
She ordered seeds online and started growing herbs on her plot. From them, she made various blends, carefully packaged and labeled: “For stomach,” “Calming,” “For digestive problems.”
The first buyer was her neighbor, Nina Egorovna:
“Lyudochka, give me something for my stomach. After all those pills, it’s all messed up.”
Lyudmila gave her an aromatic blend:
“Brew it like tea, drink a little at a time.”
A week later, the neighbor came back:
“Oh, it helped so much! Can I have more?”
Word spread quickly through the village. People began coming for blends. Then Lyudmila posted an ad online: “Healing herbs from a hermit.” The name was a hit. Orders poured in, and soon it became a real family business.
In summer, Andrey helped his mother pack the blends. They ordered special bags and boxes, created a whole product line. Everything was going well until Lyudmila fell ill. She was diagnosed with gallstones, and the doctors insisted on surgery.
Before the procedure, she asked a neighbor to look after her son. And on the morning of the operation, Andrey went to the hospital, passing through the park where local grandmothers sold dry bouquets of herbs. Their signs read: “From all diseases,” “For quick marriage”…
The boy thought: “How different our blends are! Neat, with precise names and instructions…”
The next day he brought a basket of his own bouquets. The grandmothers frowned:
“Look at this smart aleck! Get out of here!”
“My mom is a doctor,” Andrey replied calmly. “She knows what herbs are for what. And she grows them herself.”
A stroller with a thin elderly man pulled up. His companion took a blend labeled “For digestive problems.”
“What plants are these?”
Andrey explained each ingredient in detail, its benefits, even warned that such a infusion was contraindicated for gallstones.
“How do you know all this?”
“My mom is a hermit, a well-known online seller of medicinal herbs. She’s a doctor.”
The woman bought two bouquets and took his phone number.
A week later came a call:
“Could you make a few more blends? My husband is feeling noticeably better. His appetite has returned—before, the smell of food made him nauseous. Doctors suspected something serious, but tests showed nothing. Your infusions literally got him back on his feet!”
Andrey promised to bring new blends. When he came to the ward, the man was already sitting up in bed, eating on his own.
“Oh, my healer has arrived!” he smiled. “That’s how it goes—best doctors struggle, but a young guy comes along and cures!”
A week later, an expensive car pulled up to their house. Three people got out: a woman, her husband in a summer suit, and a man about fifty.
“Andryusha,” the woman said, “we had lost all hope for my husband’s recovery. We must repay you in kindness. Is your mother home? Lev Demyanovich would like to speak with her.”
Lyudmila stood on the porch, surprised to see the guests. When they approached, she recognized them.
“Lyudmila Andreevna? Is that really you?”
Silence fell. Lev Demyanovich’s son asked:
“Do you know them?”
His mother began to cry:
“Forgive us… My daughter and I were so rude!”
“I don’t understand,” Lev Demyanovich protested. “When did you offend the best doctor?”
“You see, when you came to the hospital, we were sure you were poisoned. After all, there was a celebration the day before. We asked to pump your stomach, but Lyudmila Andreevna said you had acute inflammation and acted on her own. We didn’t know…”
“You never know anything, but always stick your nose in!” Lev Demyanovich repeated Lyudmila’s words.
“So you wrote the complaint?” he asked sternly.
The woman nodded through tears.
Lev Demyanovich stepped onto the porch:
“Lyudmila Andreevna, our family ruined your life. I can’t imagine how to make amends.” He looked at their modest home. “I will buy you a house of your choice. I will pay for Andrey’s education.”
“Yes, I want to go to pharmaceutical college after ninth grade,” the boy answered.
“Excellent! You have a natural talent.”
Lyudmila listened carefully. Then she spoke:
“Thank you, Lev Demyanovich. You know, I’m even grateful to your wife for how things turned out. At first, of course, I learned what meanness was. But then I learned to live differently. And I do not regret not working at the hospital anymore.”
The old man’s wife looked up, eyes full of tears.
“Amazing,” the man whispered. “You are not only a good doctor but a worthy person. Do you want to return to your old job? I can arrange it…”
“Thank you, but no. The only thing to fix is the record in my employment book. And the house we live in suits me. It’s a paradise for the soul.”
Lev Demyanovich looked at his son—the owner of a construction company:
“Sergey, what do you say? I’ll take care of the employment record. Can we build a new house?”
His son nodded.
“Decided! In autumn Andrey will enter college, we’ll settle you in a hotel, and meanwhile we will build a cottage.”
“Lev Demyanovich, you forgot to ask for my consent,” Lyudmila smiled.
“Sorry, old habit to command. But won’t you give me a chance to make amends?”
Then Sergey joined the conversation:
“Agree, Lyudmila Andreevna. I was once treated by you too. You probably don’t remember—I was very young then. Since then, I dreamed of thanking you.”
She looked at him and suddenly remembered. Yes, her first patient was one with a rapid heartbeat. That was the first time she saved a life. Since then, there were hundreds, so the first was somewhat forgotten.
Her heart warmed from the memories:
“Alright, let it be your way. But the house should be small, and don’t touch the garden. I’ll live with Aunt Nina during construction and take care of her health.”
The guests applauded involuntarily. Sergey gallantly kissed her hand:
“Will you join us for lunch?”
“I’m not alone,” Lyudmila nodded to Andrey.
“Even better!” Sergey was delighted.
He was lonely. A year ago he divorced his wife, who for ten years didn’t want children and was absorbed in fashion and social parties.
Two years later, Lyudmila and Sergey became husband and wife. The house built by the Lakshin family was re-registered to student Andrey. They used it as a summer house for now. Lyudmila moved to Sergey’s place, where there was much more space for growing herbs.
And even her rounded belly did not stop her from watering the beds and gathering fragrant bouquets of medicinal plants.
For that was her new life—filled with meaning, love, and harmony.