«You’ve always been a burden,» the husband said in front of the doctors.
«Margaret, really, leave those IV drips for nowyouve been at it for hours! Go home and finish in the morning,» Dr. Harrington, head of the medical ward, paused in the doorway of the treatment room, watching the elderly nurse methodically sorting through vials. «Your Thomas must be waiting.»
«My Thomas has been waiting for thirty years, and hes fine,» Margaret smiled, but her hands kept workingsorting, checking, arranging them in trays. «Dont worry, Dr. Harrington, Ill be done soon. I just want everything ready for the morning rounds.»
The doctor shook his head but didnt argue. After forty years at the hospital, Margaret had earned the right to work at her own pace. Her precision, attention to detail, and dedication were legendary on the ward.
«By the way,» he added, turning to leave, «a patient from Room Seven was asking for you. Charlotte Davies. Said you promised her some drops.»
«Oh, goodness, I forgot!» Margaret clasped her hands to her cheeks. «Shes been struggling to sleep, poor thing. I told her Id bring Dr. Bennetts prescription.»
«Sort that out, then go home,» he said firmly. «Or your Thomas will ring me tomorrow, complaining Im overworking you.»
Margaret laughed. «He wont. Still refuses to use a phonesays hes too old for newfangled nonsense.»
Once the doctor left, she finished with the IVs and made her way to Room Seven. There, by the window, lay a woman in her fiftiesthin, worn, with premature silver streaks in her light brown hair. Despite her illness, her eyes held quiet dignity and a hint of sorrow.
«Charlotte, you were looking for me? Sorry, I got caught up,» Margaret said, perching on the edge of the bed. «How are you feeling?»
«Better, thank you,» Charlotte replied softly. «The shortness of breath has eased. But I still cant sleep at nightjust thoughts, endless thoughts…»
«Thats the nerves,» Margaret nodded. «Your body needs time to heal after surgery. Here, Ive brought the drops Dr. Bennett prescribed. Twenty drops in half a glass of water before bed.»
«Thank you,» Charlotte took the bottle. «Youre always so kind. Ive met few people like you in my life.»
Something in her tone made Margaret study her more closely.
«Is everything all right? I dont mean your health. Does anyone visit you?»
«My daughter comes when she can,» Charlotte said. «Shes sweet, very caring. But she lives far away. And my husband» she hesitated, «hes busy. Work keeps him.»
Margaret frowned but stayed silent. Years of nursing had taught her to recognise the unspoken. Something here was wrong.
«Tell you what,» she said suddenly, «let me brush your hair. Its lovely, but tangled. Youre still too weak to manage, and theres little comfort in hospitals as it is.»
Without waiting for an answer, she took a comb from the bedside drawer and began gently working through the knots. Charlotte tensed at first, then relaxed under the steady, soothing motions.
«My mother used to do this,» Charlotte murmured. «Said it was the best cure for sadness. I did the same for my daughter when she was little. But my husband» She trailed off again.
«What about him?» Margaret prompted gently.
«He called it nonsense,» Charlotte finally said. «Said long hair was just extra work. That with my bad back, I should keep it shortmore practical. But I refused just this once.»
«Good for you,» Margaret nodded. «A womans hair is her strength. Men dont understand.»
They sat in silence as Margaret finished combing and began braiding.
«Tell me about yourself,» Charlotte asked. «Do you have family? You mentioned your husband»
«Just me and Thomas,» Margaret chuckled. «Our sons in Canadashows us the grandchildren over video calls once in a blue moon. The two of us rattle around the house. Forty-five years togetherhard to believe!»
«Forty-five» Charlotte echoed. «Victor and I will have been married thirty-two this year. If I make it.»
«Dont say that!» Margaret scolded. «Of course you will. The surgery went well, your tests are improving. Youll be chasing great-grandchildren yet.»
«Victor doesnt want grandchildren,» Charlotte whispered. «Says Im trouble enough. More would mean no peace.»
Margarets hands stilled. Something in Charlottes voice made her chest tighten with unease.
«Charlotte, love,» she began carefully, «does your husband always speak to you like that?»
A long silence followed before Charlotte sighed.
«No. Not always. When we were young, he was differentattentive, thoughtful. Brought me flowers, said sweet things. Then I fell ill. My spine started giving me troublepinched nerves, constant pain. I had to leave my job. And Victor he changed. Got frustrated with my complaints, the medicines, the fact I couldnt keep house like before.»
Margaret squeezed her shoulder, urging her on.
«At first, I thought it was stresswork wearing him down. Then I hoped things would ease once our daughter grew up. But she left for university, and it only got worse. I became» she searched for the word, «a burden. Thats what he calls me: Youre a burden, Charlotte. Nothing but trouble and expense.»
«The nerve!» Margaret burst out. «Why on earth do you put up with it?»
«What choice do I have?» Charlotte shrugged. «Where would I go? No one would hire me with my back. My pensions a pittance. My daughters just starting outI cant saddle her with my problems. So I stay, trying not to be too much trouble.»
Margaret finished the braid and sat facing her.
«Charlotte, dear, this is no way to live. A husband should stand by you in sickness, not throw it in your face. Youve shared decades, raised a child. Doesnt he see you didnt choose this?»
«Victor says its my fault,» Charlotte looked away. «That I ate poorly, didnt exercise, sat wrong at my desk when I worked. And the endless costs I try to save, skip medicines I should take. Then this surgeryhe was furious when he saw the bills.»
«Wait,» Margaret frowned. «But the NHS covered the operation.»
«Yes, the surgery itself,» Charlotte nodded. «But the scans, the special brace, the rehabit all added up. Moneys tight with the mortgage, his car payments»
«His car, I assume?» Margaret arched a brow.
«Of course,» Charlotte gave a joyless smile. «He needs it for work. Hes the breadwinner.»
Margaret opened her mouth, but a young nurse entered.
«Margaret, youre needed at the desk. Your husbands on the phone.»
«Thomas? On the phone?» She blinked. «Something must be wrong. Right, Charlotte, Ill pop back later. Dont forget those drops.»
In the hallway, she spotted Dr. Bennett speaking with a well-dressed man in his fiftiespolished shoes, a Rolex, the air of someone used to giving orders.
«I need a prognosis,» the man was saying. «How long before shes home? When can she manage alone?»
«Recovery from spinal surgery takes time,» Dr. Bennett explained patiently. «A month here, then home care. Initially, shell need help moving, bathing»
«Help? I cant take time off indefinitely. Arent there ways to speed this up? Extra treatments?»
«Medicine doesnt work that way,» Dr. Bennett said. «But you could hire a carer. Or perhaps family could assist?»
«Carers cost money,» the man snapped. «And weve no family nearbyjust our daughter, and shes in Manchester.»
Margaret picked up the phone, catching Thomass gruff voice:
«Luv, when are you home? The boilers acting upthe engineer needs someone here.»
«On my way,» she promised. «Put the kettle on, Im starving.»
Hanging up, she overheard the mans rising irritation:
«Doctor, Id like to speak to my wife. Make her understand she must push harder. She lacks motivation.»
Dr. Bennett straightened.
«Your wife had major surgery. Shes doing all she can. Recovery cant be rushed.»
«Just take me to her,» the man insisted.
Margaret followed, uneasy.
In the room, Charlotte was struggling to sit up. Seeing her husband, she froze.
«Victor? You came?»
«I did,» he stayed by the door. «Your doctor says youll be lounging here indefinitely.»
«Im trying,» she said quietly. «Doing every exercise»
«Not hard enough, clearly,» he cut in. «Do you realise what this is costing? Ive taken three days off alreadyfetching your things, signing forms. And these medicines you keep demanding»
«I dont demand,» Charlotte whispered. «Only whats necessary. Ive tried to cut costs»
«Cut costs?» he scoffed. «Thats how we got here. I told yousee a doctor before it got serious. But no, you waited. Now look.»
Dr. Bennett cleared his throat. «Spinal conditions often»
«Doctor, Ive known my wife thirty-two years,» Victor said coldly. «Shes always been this wayprocrastinating until problems snowball. Her job, our daughter, now her health.»
Charlotte sat silent, fingers twisting the blanket.
«Victor, please,» she finally said. «Not now. I am getting better. Ill be home soon, out of your way.»
«Out of my way?» He laughed humourlessly. «Charlotte, youve always been a burden. First the postnatal depression, then the migraines, now this. Our whole marriage is me carrying your dead weight.»
The room went still. Dr. Bennetts jaw tightened. Margaret stepped forward.
«Sir,» she said, surprising herself, «this is a hospital. Youre speaking to a post-op patient. Show some respectif not to your wife, then to this place.»
Victor turned, noticing her for the first time.
«And you are?»
«Margaret White, senior ward sister,» she said crisply. «And Ill ask you to leave if you cant speak civilly.»
«This is my wife»
«You have visiting rights during designated hours, conducted respectfully,» she interrupted. «Right now, youre disturbing my patient.»
«I wont be spoken to by some nurse!» Victor raised his voice.
«And I wont tolerate abuse in my ward,» Dr. Bennett said firmly. «Leave. Return when youve calmed down.»
Victor glared at them, then at Charlotte.
«Fine. But remember, Charlotteno carers when youre home. Manage alone.»
The door slammed behind him.
Silence lingered. Charlotte wiped her eyes but kept her voice steady.
«Im sorry. Hes not usually like this. Just stressed.»
Dr. Bennett and Margaret exchanged glances.
«Charlotte,» the doctor began gently, «does he often speak to you this way?»
«No, no,» she forced a smile. «Works been hard, and now my surgery»
«Thats no excuse,» Margaret said firmly. «No man speaks to his wife like thatleast of all when shes ill.»
«You dont understand,» Charlotte whispered. «Ive nowhere to go. I depend on himfinancially, physically. My daughters just starting outI cant burden her.»
Dr. Bennett sat beside her.
«There are shelters. Rehab centres. And this could be considered coercive control.»
«Control?» Charlotte shook her head. «No, hes never hit me. Just words. And exhaustion. Thirty-two years is a long time.»
Margaret took her hand.
«Love, not all long marriages look like this. Thomas and I have had our rows, but neverneverwould he call me a burden on my sickbed. Thats not stress. Thats cruelty.»
«But what can I do?» Charlottes voice broke.
«First, heal,» Dr. Bennett said. «While youre here, well help you plan.»
Later, before leaving, Margaret gave her the drops.
«You know,» she said, «when I met Thomas, he was just as proud as your Victor. Thought the sun rose for him. Then I fell illpneumonia, terribly bad. He stayed up nights, made broth, changed compresses. Thats when I knew he was a real man. Not one who flatters you in health, but stands by you in sickness.»
«You were lucky,» Charlotte murmured.
«I chose well,» Margaret corrected. «And you can still choosenot a new love, but a new life. Without humiliation, without guilt. Think on it.»
At home, Margaret told Thomas everything. He listened, shaking his head.
«Absolute rotter,» he grumbled. «How do such men sleep at night?»
«Ive no idea,» she sighed, pouring tea. «But seeing them makes me grateful for you.»
Thomas reddened but smiled. «Ah, go on with you. Im just an old codger.»
«The best codger,» she patted his hand.
Meanwhile, in Room Seven, Charlotte lay awake despite the drops. She thought of Victors words, of thirty-two years with a man who saw her as dead weight. Of how many more she could endure. And for the first time in years, a quiet, stubborn thought took root:
Maybe it wasnt too late to change.
