“You’ve always been a burden,” the husband said in front of the doctors.
“Margaret, really, leave those IV drips for nowits been three hours! Go home and finish in the morning,” the head of the internal medicine department paused in the doorway of the treatment room, glancing at the elderly nurse as she methodically sorted through the vials. “Your William must be waiting for you.”
“My William waited for me thirty years ago, and hes still alive and well,” Margaret smiled, but her hands didnt stopneatly sorting, checking, arranging the trays. “Dont worry, Dr. Harrison, Ill be done soon. I just want everything ready for morning rounds.”
The doctor shook his head but didnt argueafter forty years at the hospital, Margaret had earned the right to work at her own pace. Her precision, care, and dedication were legendary in the department.
“By the way,” he added, turning to leave, “one of the patients in ward seven was asking for you. Emily Carter. Said you promised her some drops.”
“Oh, thats right!” Margaret gasped. “Completely slipped my mind. Poor thing cant sleep. I told her Id bring Dr. Bennetts prescription.”
“Well, sort that out and go home,” the doctor said firmly. “Or else your William will ring me tomorrow, complaining Im overworking you.”
Margaret laughed. “He wont. Never got the hang of mobiles. Says hes too old for ‘those modern gadgets.'”
Once the doctor left, she finished with the IVs and headed to ward seven. There, by the window, lay a woman in her fiftiesthin, worn, with premature silver streaks in her chestnut hair. Despite her illness, her eyes held quiet dignity and a lingering sorrow.
“Emily, you asked for me? Sorry, I got caught up,” Margaret said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, thank you,” Emily replied weakly. “The breathlessness has eased. But at night I just cant sleepthoughts keep spinning.”
“Thats your nerves,” Margaret nodded. “After major surgery, your body needs time. Here, Ive brought the drops Dr. Bennett prescribed. Twenty in half a glass of water before bed.”
“Thank you,” Emily took the bottle. “Youre always so kind. I havent met many people like you.”
Something in her voice made Margaret study her more closely.
“Are you all right? Not just health-wise. Does anyone visit?”
“My daughter comes,” Emily said. “Shes sweet, caring. But she lives far, cant always get away. And my husband” She hesitated. “Hes busy. Work keeps him.”
Margaret frowned but stayed silent. Years of nursing had taught her to hear the unspoken. Something was very wrong here.
“Tell you what,” she suddenly decided, “let me brush your hair. Its lovely, but tangled. Youre still too weak, and theres little comfort in hospitals.”
Without waiting for an answer, she took a comb from the bedside drawer and gently worked through the knots. Emily tensed at first, then relaxed under the soothing rhythm.
“My mother used to do this,” Emily 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 asked softly.
“He calls it nonsense,” Emily finally said after a pause. “Says long hairs just extra work. With my back problems, I should cut it shortmore practical. But I refused at least in this.”
“Good,” Margaret nodded. “A womans hair is her strength. Men never understand that.”
They sat quietly. Margaret finished braiding Emilys hair into a loose plait.
“Tell me about yourself,” Emily asked. “Do you have family? You mentioned your husband”
“Not much to tell,” Margaret chuckled. “Just me and my William. Our sons in Australia, shows us the grandchildren on video calls once in a blue moon. The two of us rattle around together. Forty-five years marriedhard to believe!”
“Forty-five” Emily echoed. “David and I wouldve been 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 bounce back.”
“David doesnt want grandchildren,” Emily whispered. “Says Im trouble enough. Adding children would be chaos.”
Margarets hands stilled. Something in Emilys tone made her chest tighten.
“Emily, love has your husband always spoken to you like this?”
Emily took a long breath. “No. When we were young, he was different. Attentive, kind. Brought flowers, said sweet things. Then I fell ill. My spinetrapped nerve, chronic pain. Had to quit work. And David he became another man. Irritated by my complaints, the medicines, the chores I couldnt manage.”
Margaret squeezed her shoulder gently.
“At first I thought it was stresswork was hard. Then I hoped once our daughter grew up, things would ease. But she left for university, and it got worse. I became” She searched for the word. “A burden. Thats what he calls me. ‘Youre a burden, Emily. Nothing but trouble and expense.'”
“The nerve!” Margaret burst out. “And you put up with it?”
“What choice is there?” Emily shrugged. “My back means no job, my pensions tiny. My daughters starting her lifeI cant saddle her with this. So I endure, try not to upset him more.”
Margaret finished the braid and faced her.
“Emily, dear, this isnt living. A husband should stand by you in sickness, not scorn you. Youve given him years, raised a daughter. Does he really blame you for being ill?”
“David says its my fault,” Emily looked away. “Claims I ate poorly, didnt exercise, sat wrong at my desk. Then the endless medical bills I skip medicines to save. And now this surgeryhe was furious at the cost.”
“Wait,” Margaret frowned. “But the operation was covered by the NHS.”
“The surgery, yes,” Emily nodded. “But scans, the brace, rehabit all added up. Moneys tight with the mortgage, his car loan”
“And the cars his, I suppose?” Margaret raised a brow.
“Of course,” Emily gave a joyless smile. “He needs it for workhes the breadwinner.”
Margaret opened her mouthbut a young nurse entered.
“Margaret, youre needed at the desk. Your husbands on the phone.”
“William? On the phone?” Margaret blinked. “Must be important. Right, Emily, dont forget those drops.”
Outside, she spotted Dr. Bennett speaking to a well-dressed man in his fiftiespolished shoes, a Rolex, the taut posture of someone used to command.
“I need a prognosis,” the man said. “How long before shes functional? When can she come home?”
“Recovery takes time,” Dr. Bennett explained patiently. “At least a month here, then home care. Initially, shell need help moving, bathing”
“Help?” The man scowled. “I have a career. Cant procedures speed this up? Special medications?”
“Bodies dont rush,” Dr. Bennett said. “But you could hire a carer. Or perhaps family could assist?”
“Carers cost money,” the man snapped. “Our daughters abroad. No other relatives.”
Margaret picked up the phone, pretending not to eavesdrop.
“Hello, William?”
“Love, when are you home?” His voice was tense. “The boilers acting up. The engineer needs the homeowner present.”
“Twenty minutes,” she said. “Put the kettle on, Im famished.”
Hanging up, she caught the mans next words:
“Doctor, Ill speak to my wife myself. She lacks motivation.”
Dr. Bennett straightened. “Your wife had major spinal surgery. Shes pushing herselfbut healing cant be rushed.”
“Just take me to her,” the man insisted.
They headed to the ward, Margaret trailing uneasily.
Inside, Emily was struggling to sit up. Seeing her husband, she froze.
“David? You came?”
“Clearly.” He stayed by the door. “Your doctor says youll be lazing here indefinitely.”
“Im doing the exercises”
“Not enough, apparently,” he cut in. “Do you grasp what this costs? Ive taken days off to fetch your things, sign forms. And these endless prescriptions”
“I only take whats essential,” Emily whispered. “Ive tried to save”
“Savings expert,” he sneered. “Saved your way into surgery. I told yousee a doctor sooner. But no, you feared the bill. Now its worse.”
Dr. Bennett cleared his throat. “Spinal conditions often”
“Doctor, Ive known my wife thirty-two years,” David said coldly. “Always procrastinatingwork, parenting, now health. Consequences never occur to her.”
Emily stared at her lap, fingers twisting the sheet.
“David, please,” she finally said. “Not now. Ill be home soonI wont be in your way.”
“In my way?” He laughed harshly. “Emily, youve always been a burden. First postpartum depression, then migraines, now this. Our marriage is me carrying your dead weight.”
Silence fell. Dr. Bennetts jaw tightened. Margaret stepped forward.
“Sir,” she said, surprising herself, “youre in a hospital. Speaking to a postoperative patient. Show respectif not to your wife, then to this place.”
David turned, noticing her for the first time.
“And you are?”
“Margaret Hayes, senior ward sister,” she said crisply. “Ill ask you to leave if you cant speak civilly.”
“This is my wife”
“Visiting hours allow civil discussion only,” she interrupted. “Youre disturbing the patient.”
“I wont be lectured by a nurse!” David barked.
“Nor will I tolerate abuse in my ward,” Dr. Bennett said firmly. “Leave. Return when youve composed yourself.”
David glared at them, then at Emilystill silent, head bowed.
“Fine,” he spat. “Coddle her. But Emily” he turned to her, “when youre home, therell be no carer. Sort yourself out.”
The door slammed behind him.
Emily wiped her eyes but smiled weakly.
“Sorry you saw that. Hes not always works been tough.”
Dr. Bennett and Margaret exchanged glances.
“Emily,” the doctor said gently, “does he often speak to you this way?”
“No, no,” she said quickly. “Just stress. His job”
“Thats no excuse,” Margaret said firmly. “No one deserves cruelty, least of all when theyre ill.”
“You dont understand,” Emily whispered. “Ive nowhere to go. No income, no strength. My daughters just starting outI cant burden her.”
Dr. Bennett sat beside her. “There are resourcesshelters, rehab centers. This treatment could qualify as emotional abuse.”
“Abuse?” Emily shook her head. “Hes never hit me. Just words. And exhaustion. Thirty-two years thats a long time.”
Margaret took her hand.
“Love, not all long marriages look like this. William and I have had rows, but never cruelty. Sickness shows a persons true colors.”
“But what can I do?”
“First, heal,” Dr. Bennett said. “Well help you find options.”
Later, as Margaret helped Emily settle, she said,
“You know, my William was just as proud when we met. Thought the sun rose for him. Then I fell illpneumonia, terribly bad. He stayed up nights, made soups, changed compresses. Thats when I knew he was a real man. Not one for pretty words when its easybut one who stays when its hard.”
“You were lucky,” Emily murmured.
“No,” Margaret corrected. “I chose wisely. And you still can choosenot love, but a life without scorn. Think on it.”
That evening, Margaret told William everything over tea. He shook his headhis face weathered like old oak.
“Some people,” he muttered. “No decency.”
“Watching them,” Margaret said, squeezing his hand, “makes me grateful for you.”
William huffed, but his eyes softened.
“Oh, go on. Im just an old fool.”
“The best kind,” she smiled.
Meanwhile, in ward seven, Emily lay awakethe drops forgotten. She replayed Davids words, the thirty-two years with a man who saw her as dead weight. For the first time in years, a small, stubborn thought took root:
*Maybe its not too late to change.*
**Life isnt measured by the years you endure, but by the love you nurtureand sometimes, the courage to walk away.**
