13March
I sat down after dinner, a cup of tea steaming on the table, and tried to make sense of the endless demands that had piled up over the week. My wife, Emily, works as a remote senior accountant, her days already packed with quarterly closings and endless spreadsheets. When my motherinlaw, Margaret, began pleading for Emily to look after Aunt Maggiemy sisterinlaw who had just suffered a strokeit felt like the whole family was trying to push the same stone uphill.
Emily, you know Victors business keeps him in meetings for days on end and Lucy lives two hours away in a trafficjammed suburb, Margaret cooed, her tone sweet enough to make Emilys cheeks flush. Youre home, your schedule is flexible, you sit at a computer all day. Could you pop over to Aunt Maggies, warm up a soup, check her blood pressure?
Emily set her teacup down with care, trying not to let it clink. The conversation, which had started as a casual Sunday lunch chat, turned into a wellorchestrated siege. Around the table were Margaret, Victors brother, and his sister Lucy, all looking at Emily with a mix of affection and expectation, as if she were the only lifeboat in a stormy sea of family obligations.
Aunt Maggie, Margarets own sister, had had a stroke a week ago. The doctors had stabilised her, and she was due to go home the next day, but she was still on strict bedrest and needed constant care.
Margaret, Emily began, keeping her voice even despite the rising anger inside, my schedule isnt free. Im the chief accountant working remotely. Its the end of the quarter, and Im glued to my screen for fivehour stretches without even a sip of water. You ask me to pop over? Aunt Maggie lives three bus stops awayan hour each way, plus the time Id have to spend looking after her.
Lucy waved a hand, piling salad onto her plate. Your accounting wont disappear. You could just bring your laptop, sit with Aunt Maggie for a while, then pour her a drink. At least someone from the family would be there.
Emily turned to Lucy, whose immaculate manicure and job as a salon administrator meant she worked alternate days. Lucy, you work alternate days, which means youre free about half the month. Why not take half the shifts?
Lucy choked on her lettuce and widened her eyes. Ive got a social life on my days off! And Im terrified of blood, the smell of medicines makes me gag. I cant be near Aunt Maggie, Id lose it.
Victor, fiddling with the keys to his expensive SUV, jumped in. Emily, honestly. I could put money towards groceries. You know Im in a busy season, I hardly see my family, I only crawl home to sleep. If I stopped everything now, wed all be broke.
All eyes snapped back to Emily. My own head dropped as I poked at my roast with a fork, feeling the pressure of my motherinlaw and her relatives bearing down on me.
I finally straightened up. Lets set the record straight. Aunt Maggie has two grown childrenVictor and Lucy. Its their direct responsibility to look after her. I have a job, a house, and my own mother who also needs my attention. I can bring groceries on weekends, help with a tidyup once a week, but I will not become her fulltime carer.
A heavy silence fell. Margarets lips tightened, her face turning ashen. So youre saying just as Victor helped Oleg with building supplies at a discount, and Lucy gave you a salon discount, youve repaid us with complaints? Aunt Maggie, by the way, looked after little James when I worked double shifts at the factory. Shes practically a second mother to him!
I looked at my husband, James, whose guilty eyes were fixed on his plate. Margaret, please. Aunt Maggie needs help, but I cant abandon my own responsibilities.
James lifted his head, his voice soft. Emily, Aunt Maggie really helped me when I was young. Maybe we could organise something? I could swing by in the evenings
I stared him straight in the eyes. You come at eight at night. Who will be with her at eight in the morning? Victor got a cement discount seven years ago, and we paid for that cement without a markup. Lucys salon discount is five per cent, but I spend more on petrol to get there. Dont start invoicing me for family loyalty.
Victor stood abruptly, chair screeching. Fine, I get it. No help from you. Well hire a carer then. Just remember, when you need a glass of water, dont be surprised if its empty.
He tossed a £50 notelabeled for fruitonto the table and stormed out. Lucy followed, giving me a look that could cut glass. Margaret clutched her chest, rummaging for a painkiller in her bag.
The evening passed in oppressive quiet. James paced the flat, sighing, but said nothing. I could tell he thought I was cruel, yet I also knew that if I gave in now Id spend months, perhaps years, rotating blankets and listening to endless complaints while the caring children built their businesses and lives elsewhere.
The next day my phone rang nonstopMargaret, a distant aunt from Surrey, then another relative who decided to lecture me on life, and then Margaret again. I let the calls go to voicemail. My reports demanded concentration; my emotions needed strict control.
That night James returned, his shoes still on. Mother called, he said without taking off his coat. Aunt Maggie is crying, saying shes unwanted and will be sent to a care home. Victor hired a woman who can only be there two hours a day to heat meals. What about the rest of the time?
I asked, weary, Victor has two teenage kids, his wife doesnt work, Lucy has no children. Why cant they set up a schedule?
James replied, Victors wife says shes disgusted, that its not her mother. And Lucy you know Lucy. She threw a tantrum, claiming shed have a panic attack at the sight of a drip. So the aunt is left alone. Could you maybe manage a halfday? Until we find a proper carer?
I looked at James. Hes kind, generous, but his softness sometimes kills us both.
Alright, I said. Ill go tomorrow. But I have a condition.
Whats that? he asked, hopeful.
Youll see.
The following morning I packed my laptop and drove to Aunt Maggies flat in Croydon. The door opened to a parttime carera tired woman with a weary face.
Thank goodness someones here, she sighed. Maggies being picky, refuses porridge, wants chicken broth, and I have to rush off to two other elders.
Inside, the flat smelled of menthol and stale laundry. Aunt Maggie lay on a high bed surrounded by pillows, watching a telly programme. She pursed her lips at my arrival.
Ah, youre here. I thought Victor or Lucy would turn up, but youve sent the seventh water for jelly.
Good afternoon, Aunt Maggie, I said, keeping my tone steady. Victor is busy, Lucy is occupied. Im here to help. What do you need?
Broth! Fresh, with croutons! And a new sheet on the bedthese crumbs are stabbing my back. And fix the curtains; the suns in my eyes. Cant you see?
I sighed, set my laptop on the table, and headed to the kitchen. The fridge held a lonely slice of cheese and a jar of sour milkno chicken in sight.
Maggie, theres no chicken. Did Victor promise to bring some?
He promised maybe he forgot. Go to the shop, love. Its just around the cornerTesco. Get a whole chicken, some cottage cheese, fresh fruit, nothing thats rotting.
Wheres the money? I asked.
What money? she replied, puzzled. My pension comes on the fifth. You buy it, Victor will pay later. Or are you and James so poor you think a few pence from an old lady matter?
I pulled out my wallet, bought the items, and spent £30. I made the broth, fed her, changed the sheets, and tended to the curtains. Throughout, Aunt Maggie never stopped chattering.
Dont fluff the pillow so hard! Whos cutting the bread? Too big, Ill choke! Careful with my leg, youre trying to pull it off! Lucy would have done it gently, her hands are soft
Wheres Lucy? I finally snapped.
Dont touch Lucy! She has no personal life, needs a man, not to be dragging ducks for a granny. And youre married, you dont need anything, just sit and look after her.
By evening I was exhausted, as if Id unloaded a coal train. I opened my laptop and managed to work for fifteen minutes before Aunt Maggie dozed off. Then came the endless list of requests: Turn the water off, switch the channel, close the window, read the paper, why are you typing so loudly?
When James arrived to take the night shift, I was staring at the wall.
How did it go? he asked brightly.
James, I said quietly, I bought the groceries with my own money, cleaned, cooked, washed your aunt. I didnt hear a single thank you, only comparisons to Lucy, the angel who isnt even here. Your aunt thinks Im obliged because I married you. She says Ive got it easy.
He started, Shes ill, her temper
No, I cut in. Shes always been like this; the stroke just gave her a licence to complain. Listen: Im not coming back. Not tomorrow, not the day after. Never again as a carer.
He stared, baffled. Who will look after her then? I have work
Thats up to Victor and Lucy.
I left for home, holding back tears of frustration. I needed a plan.
The next morning Victor called.
Tanya, hey. I spoke to my mum, she said you did a great job, the broth was tasty. When can you come back? The carer fell ill, she can only do two hours a day.
I wont come, Victor, I replied.
What? We agreed he snapped.
I was there to assess the workload, and I concluded that your mother needs a professional, roundtheclock carer. Im not a nurse, Im an accountant. Yesterday I lost four hours of billable work and spent £30 on food.
Youre billing me?
Im billing reality, Victor. If neither you nor Lucy can handle it, you must hire a livein professional. Thatll run about £600 a month plus meals.
I dont have extra cash! The business is tight, theres a recession!
Then sell the SUV and buy a modest car. Or let Lucy sell her coat. Or rotate shifts every other day. I wont move a finger until I see you actually invest in proper care, not empty promises.
I blocked Victors number, then Lucys, then Margarets. I knew a storm was coming, and I decided to shelter in my quiet bunker.
That evening James returned, pale and shaking.
Tanya, what have you done? Mother called, she was screaming that you left a helpless person to die. Victor called me a mercenary. Theyre all shouting at each other.
Whos with Aunt Maggie now? I asked, chopping vegetables.
My mother went off. Her blood pressure is through the roof, but she left anyway. She said, If the young are so cruel, Ill lie down on my own bones.
See? No one died. James, sit down and eat.
He muttered, I cant eat! You dont understandthey now see us as enemies! How do we live?
I replied, We wont speak to them until they apologise. James, understand this: whoever drives, everyone rides. Ive cut the rope. Your mother will sit there a day, realise health is priceless, and push Victor. When Victor sees the free ride is over, hell find the money. He bragged last week about buying a new warehouse.
James looked at me, half horrified, half impressed. Hed always gone with the flow; now I was building a dam.
Three days passed. Margaret, trying to lift her sister, actually threw out her back and needed an ambulance. Victor and Lucy were forced to go.
On the fourth day, a knock sounded at our door. Victor stood there, looking dishevelled, the business sheen gone.
May I come in? he grumbled.
I stepped aside, letting him in. He shuffled to the kitchen, asked for water, his hands trembling.
This is hell, he said after a gulp. Maggie is impossible. She swings from hot to cold, blames me for wanting her dead so she can inherit the flat. She accuses me of wanting her death for the house.
I smiled to myself. Welcome to reality, dear cousin.
Wheres Lucy? James asked.
She bolted an hour ago, said she had a migraine, Victor replied. Margaret is in hospital with sciatica. Im left alone. My deliveries are burning, my clients need me!
He looked at me, desperation in his eyes.
Help me. Ill pay. How much? Sixty? Ill give a hundred. Just find someone decent enough to stand this. Youre a woman, youre good with people, youve got the knack
I sat opposite him.
Fine, Victor. Ill find a carer through an agency, someone with proper qualifications. Itll cost about £800 for the first month plus a deposit. Transfer the money now, and reimburse the £30 I spent on groceries.
He fumbled for his phone. Anything else?
Call your mother and tell her to stop slandering me in front of the family. Make it clear that hiring a carer is YOUR responsibility, not because Tanya is a bad daughterinlaw.
He agreed, and within two hours the money hit my account. Using my networkaccountants know everyoneI secured a reputable homecare agency. By evening a sturdy, experienced carer arrived, a woman with steel nerves and a background in psychiatric care, unfazed by complaints about tasteless broth.
Margaret was discharged a week later. She still wore a corset and sighed, but never again claimed I was ungrateful. At the occasional family gatheringnow a rarity for meMargaret finally admitted, Tanya was right. Caring for someone bedridden is hard work. A professional is needed. Victor did the right thing by paying.
Lucy never turned up, limiting herself to occasional calls. Victor, oddly enough, began to treat me with genuine respect, even seeking my advice on finances. It seemed my firm stance showed him I was not just a wife to James, but a person worth counting on.
James learned the biggest lesson of all. One night, while we watched a film, he put his arm around me and whispered, Thank you.
For what? I asked.
For saving us from a mad house. And for saving me from guilt. I saw Victor go pale there, Id have broken in a day. Youre strong, Tanya. Ill learn from you.
I rested my head on his shoulder, smiling. I know more challenges lie aheadrelatives are foreverbut I now have clear boundaries, and the keys to the gate are in my hands. Aunt Maggie, according to the carer, has become calmer, having realised that arguing with a stranger brings no audience, no applause.
So this is how a family duty, tossed around like a hot potato, finally landed where it belongson those who are truly responsible. The lesson I take from it is simple: set your limits, protect your own wellbeing, and never let others’ expectations erase your own sense of worth.
