Refusing to Care for My Husband’s Sick Aunt, Who Has Her Own Children

Emily, you know David runs his own company, he spends days in meetings, and Sophie lives on the other side of town; she spends two hours in traffic just to get here, the plaintive voice of Margaret Doyle, Jamess mother, oozed a saccharine sympathy that made Emilys jaw clench. You work from home, you have a flexible schedule, you sit at a computer all day. It wont be a problem to pop over to Aunt Helen, heat up her soup, check her blood pressure, wont it?

Emily set her tea cup down gently, trying not to let it clink against the saucer. What began as an innocent Sundaylunch catchup had morphed into a wellorchestrated siege. Around the table sat Emily, her husband James, Margaret, Davids cousin Victor, and Victors sister Rachel. Their eyes were warm yet demanding, as if Emily were the only lifeline in a stormtossed sea of family woes.

Aunt Helen, Margarets sister, had suffered a stroke a week ago. Doctors had steadied the crisis, and she would be discharged tomorrow, but she was still forbidden to get up total rest and roundtheclock care were prescribed.

Margaret, Emily began, forcing calm into her voice even as irritation rose like a tide. My schedule isnt free. Im the senior accountant, working remotely. Its the end of the quarter, Im glued to the monitor for fivehour stretches, even to drink a glass of water. What do you mean pop over? Helen lives three bus stops away thats an hour each way, plus caregiving.

Sophia, youre exaggerating, Rachel snapped, piling salad onto her plate. Your accounting job wont disappear. Just take your laptop with you. Sit with Aunt Helen, do a bit of work, then serve some water. At least a family member is watching over her. Were one family, after all.

Emily turned to Rachel. The impeccably manicured woman, a salon manager who worked a splitshift schedule, smiled thinly.

Rachel, your splitshift means youre free fifteen days a month. Why dont you take half the shifts?

Rachel choked on a leaf of lettuce, eyes widening.

Youre kidding! I have a social life on my days off, and Im terrified of blood, of medicine smells. It makes me nauseous just thinking of lying next to Aunt Helen. No, I cant. My nerves are too delicate.

Victor, twirling the keys of his expensive SUV between his fingers, interjected. Emily, listen. I could foot the bill for groceries. You know my business is booming, Im barely home, I only crawl back to sleep. If I quit now, were all ruined.

All eyes fell back on Emily. James sat with his head bowed, poking at his meatball with a fork, always the one who wilted under the pressure of his mother and her relatives.

Hold on, Emily said, straightening her back. Lets be clear. Aunt Helen has two adult children David and Rachel. Its their duty to look after their mother. I have my own job, my own home, and, mind you, my own mother who needs attention too. I can swing by on weekends, bring supplies, help with a weekly cleanup, but I will not become her fulltime carer.

A heavy silence settled over the room. Margaret pressed her lips together, her face turning the colour of a baked apple.

So thats how youre talking now, she hissed. Just as David helped you get building supplies at a discount, just as Sophie gave you a discount at her salon, now youre saying my house, my mother, my job. Aunt Helen, by the way, nursed James when I was pulling double shifts at the factory. Shes practically a second mother to him!

James finally lifted his head, guilt etched across his features. Emily, honestly Aunt Helen helped me a lot. Maybe we could organise something? I could drop by in the evenings

James, Emily said, looking him straight in the eyes, you arrive at eight at night. Whos there for her at eight in the morning? David got a cement discount seven years ago and we never paid a premium for it. Sophies salon discount is five percent, yet I spend more on petrol getting there. Dont start billing me for family favours now.

Victor sprang up, chair screeching. Fine, I get it. No help from you. Well sort it ourselves. Well hire a carer, since the familys so heartless. And remember, when you reach for a glass of water, dont be surprised if its empty.

He slammed a £5,000 note labeled for fruit onto the table and stormed out. Rachel followed, casting a scorching look over her shoulder. Margaret clutched her chest, rummaging for a bottle of herbal tablets in her purse.

The evening passed in oppressive quiet. James paced the flat, sighing, never starting a conversation. Emily knew he saw her as cruel, yet she also understood that if she gave in now, the coming months perhaps years would be spent changing nappies and listening to Aunt Helens whims while loving children built businesses and lived their own lives.

The next day her phone rang nonstop Margaret, a distant cousin from Norwich, a random aunt offering unsolicited advice, then Margaret again. Emily let the calls go to voicemail. Numbers in her accounts demanded her focus; emotions required tight control.

That night James trudged back home, looking as gloomy as a storm cloud.

Mother called, he said, not even taking off his shoes. Aunt Helen is crying, saying nobody needs her, that theyll send her to a care home and forget her. Victor hired a woman, but she can only be there two hours a day to heat food. What about the rest of the day?

Victor has two teenage children, his wife doesnt work, shes a housewife. Rachel has no kids. Why cant they work a schedule? Emily asked, weary.

Victors wife says she cant stand her mother, that it isnt her business. And Rachel you know Rachel. She threw a tantrum, saying shell have a breakdown at the sight of ducks and IV drips. Everyones extreme, and Aunt Helen is alone. Emily, could you at least do a halfday until we find a proper carer?

Emily looked at James. She loved him, his kindness, but his softness sometimes felt like a death sentence.

Alright, she said suddenly. Ill go tomorrow. But I have a condition.

What condition? James asked, eyes brightening.

Youll see.

The next morning Emily, laptop in tow, drove to Aunt Helens flat. The door opened to the twohourcarer, a weary woman with a tired face.

Oh thank God someones finally here, the woman sighed. Aunt Helen is being pettish, refuses porridge, wants chicken broth, and I have two old men to run to.

Emily entered the room. The flat reeked of cough syrup and stale laundry. Aunt Helen lay on a high bed, surrounded by pillows, watching television. She pressed her lips together on seeing Emily.

Oh, youre here. I thought Victor or Sophie would pop up, but you brought the seventh water for jelly.

Good afternoon, Aunt Helen, Emily said, keeping her tone steady. Victors busy, Rachels occupied. Im here to help. What do you need?

Broth! Fresh, with croutons! And change my sheets, the crumbs are stabbing my back. And pull the curtains, the suns in my eyes, cant you see?

Emily exhaled, set her laptop on the table, and headed to the kitchen. The fridge held a lonely slice of cheese and a jar of sour milk no chicken whatsoever.

Aunt Helen, theres no food. Did Victor promise anything? Emily asked.

He promised must have forgotten. Go to the shop, love, theres a Tesco round the corner. Get a whole chicken, cottage cheese, some decent fruit, nothing rotten.

Wheres the money? Emily inquired crisply.

What money? the aunt replied, bewildered. My pension comes on the fifth. You buy it, Victor will pay later. Or perhaps you and James are short, and you think Im worth peanuts?

Emily slipped her wallet out, bought the items, and spent £3,000. She cooked the broth, fed Aunt Helen, changed the bedding, and listened to a relentless stream of complaints.

Dont you cut the bread so thick! Look at my leg, careful! Sophie would have done it gently, with soft hands

Wheres Sophie? Emily snapped.

Dont touch Sophie! She has no life, needs a man, not ducks for a granny. Youre married, youve got nothing to do, just sit and tend.

By evening Emily felt like shed unloaded a coal train. She managed fifteen minutes at her laptop before the aunt dozed off, then a parade of demands: Turn the water off, change the channel, close the window, read the paper, why are you tapping so loudly?

When James arrived to take over the night shift, Emily was slumped in the kitchen, staring at the wall.

How did it go? James asked cheerfully.

James, she whispered, I bought the food with my own money, cleaned, cooked, washed your aunt. Not a single thank you came, only endless comparisons to Sophie, the angel who isnt even here. Your aunt thinks Im obligated because I married you, that I should do it for free.

Shes ill, her temper is, James began.

No. Shes always been like this; now the brakes have failed. Listen: I will never come back. Not tomorrow, not the day after, never as a carer.

What? Who will look after her then? I have work

Thats for Victor and Rachel to sort.

Emily left, tears threatening, but she forced herself onward, needing a plan.

The following morning, at ten, Victor called.

Tanya, hey. I talked to my mum, she said you did great yesterday, the broth was tasty. When will you be back? The carer fell ill. She needs injections at noon.

Im not coming, Victor, Emily said calmly.

What do you mean? We agreed. You were there, everything was fine.

I was there to assess the workload. Heres the reality: your mother needs a professional, roundtheclock carer. Im an accountant, not a nurse. Yesterday I lost four hours of billable time and £3,000 on groceries.

Youre billing me? Youre charging the family?

Im charging reality, Victor. If you cant look after her yourself and Rachel cant, you must hire a livein professional. That costs at least £60,000 a month plus food.

I dont have that kind of money! The economys in a slump!

Then sell the SUV, buy something cheaper. Or let Rachel sell her coat. Or rotate shifts every other day. I wont move a finger until I see you actually invest, not just promise.

Emily hung up, added Victors number to the block list, then did the same to Rachels and Margarets. She knew a storm was brewing and she intended to weather it from a quiet bunker.

That night James returned, pale and shaking.

What have you done? Mother called, screaming so hard the phone vibrated. She says you left a helpless woman to die. Victor called me a mercenary. They all fought.

Whos with Aunt Helen now? Emily asked, chopping vegetables.

My mother went. Her blood pressure is 200, yet she left. She said, If the young are so cruel, Ill lie down and die.

See? No one died. James, sit down and eat.

I cant! You dont understand they now see us as enemies! How do we talk?

We wont talk until they apologise. James, understand this: when someone carries you, you ride on them. Ive cut the rope. Your mother will sit there for a day, realise health is priceless, and start pressuring Victor. When Victor sees the freebies run out, hell find the money he bragged last week about buying a new warehouse.

James stared at his wife, half terror, half admiration. Hed always gone with the flow; now Emily was building a dam.

Three days passed. Margaret, ever the heroine, spent herself caring for her sister, calling James every two hours with dramatic reports: My back is killing me my heart is pounding Helen is screaming Im dying on the carpet. James wanted to help, but Emily blocked him.

Youll only go when Victor pays for a carer. Otherwise youll just replace your own mother and Victor will relax again, she warned.

On the fourth day, the climax arrived unexpectedly. Margaret, attempting to lift her sister, actually threw out her back, unable to straighten herself. An ambulance was called for her.

Victor had to drive in, Rachel as well.

That evening, a knock sounded at Emily and Jamess door. Victor stood there, looking dishevelled, the sheen of a businessman gone flat.

May I come in? he growled.

Emily stepped aside, letting him in. James tensed, ready to protect his wife, but Victors eyes were trembling, not angry.

He sat on a stool, asked for water, and gulped it down.

This is hell, he whispered. My mother shes impossible. She accuses me of wanting her dead so I can inherit the house. She swings a teaspoon at my head, then says its too hot, then too cold, then blames me for breathing wrong. She said I want her gone, that Im after the property.

Emily smirked inwardly. Welcome to reality, dear cousin.

Wheres Rachel? James asked.

Rachel fled an hour ago, said she had a migraine. Margaret is in hospital with a slipped disc. Im alone. My deliveries are burning, my clients are on fire. I cant sit there, Emily! I need help. Ill pay. How much did you say? Sixty? Ill give a hundred. Just find someone decent who can stand her temper. Youre good with people, youve got the nerve

Emily sat opposite him.

Alright, Victor. Ill find a carer through an agency, with a contract and proper medical qualifications. Itll cost, given Aunt Helens temperament, about £80,000 plus food. Transfer the money to my account now for the first month and the agencys deposit, and reimburse me £3,000 for the groceries.

Whatever you need, just get it done! Victor fumbled for his phone. Even five, just get me out of this.

Emily halted his hand. One more thing. Call your mother and tell her to stop slandering me in front of relatives. Make it clear the carer is YOUR responsibility, not because Emily is a bad daughterinlaw.

Agreed. Ill do everything.

Within two hours the transfer hit Emilys account. Using her accountant contacts, she quickly sourced a reputable homecare agency. By evening a professional carer arrived a sturdy woman with steel nerves and psychiatric experience, unfazed by complaints about tasteless broth.

Margaret was discharged a week later, still walking with a brace and wincing, but the saga of the ungrateful Emily ceased. At the occasional family gathering, now rarely attended by Emily, Margaret suddenly confessed, Tanya was right. Its hard to look after someone bedridden. A professional was needed. David did well, he paid for it and didnt skimp.

Rachel never showed up, limiting herself to occasional calls. Victor, strangely enough, began treating Emily with unexpected respect, consulting her on financial matters and dropping the condescending tone. He finally realised that Emily was not a mere appendage to James but a person to be reckoned with.

James learned the biggest lesson of all. One night, while watching a film, he pulled Emily close and whispered, Thank you.

For what? she asked.

ForFor rescuing us from the endless turmoil and teaching me the strength to set firm boundaries.