“You’ve always been a burden,” the husband said in front of the doctors.
“Margaret Elizabeth, really, must you fuss with those IVs? It’s gone ninego home and finish in the morning,” the head of the medical ward said, pausing in the doorway of the treatment room. He watched the elderly nurse methodically sorting through vials. “Your Edward must be wondering where you are.”
“My Edward wondered where I was thirty years ago, and yet here we both are,” Margaret Elizabeth replied with a smile, but her hands never stilledchecking labels, arranging them neatly in trays. “Dont fret, Dr. Whitmore, Ill be done soon. I just want everything ready for morning rounds.”
The consultant shook his head but didnt argueafter forty years at the hospital, Margaret Elizabeth had earned the right to work at her own pace. Her precision, care, and dedication were legendary on the ward.
“Oh, by the way,” he added as he turned to leave, “that patient in Bed SevenEleanor Charlottewas asking for you. Said you promised her some drops?”
“Oh, goodness, yes!” Margaret Elizabeth clapped a hand to her forehead. “It slipped my mind entirely. Poor thing cant sleep. I told her Id bring Dr. Harrisons prescription.”
“Right, well, sort that and then go home,” he said firmly. “Else your Edward will ring me tomorrow, complaining Im working you too hard.”
Margaret Elizabeth chuckled. “He wont. Never did get the hang of mobiles. Says hes too old for all that modern nonsense.”
When the consultant left, she finished with the IVs and made her way to Bed Seven. There, by the window, lay a woman in her fiftiesfrail, tired, with premature silver streaking her light brown hair. Despite her illness, her eyes held quiet dignity and a hint of something deeper.
“Eleanor Charlotte, you wanted to see me? So sorry, I got caught up,” Margaret Elizabeth said, perching on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, thank you,” the woman murmured with a weak smile. “The breathlessness has eased. Only, I cant sleep at nightjust thoughts, endless thoughts…”
“Thats the nerves,” Margaret Elizabeth nodded. “Your body needs time to recover. HereIve brought those drops Dr. Harrison prescribed. Twenty in half a glass of water before bed.”
“Thank you,” Eleanor Charlotte said, taking the bottle. “Youre always so kind. Ive not met many like you.”
Something in her voice made Margaret Elizabeth study her more closely.
“Is everything all right? Not just the illnessis someone visiting you?”
“My daughter comes when she can,” Eleanor Charlotte said. “Shes lovely, very caring. But she lives in Manchestercant always get away. And my husband…” She paused. “Hes busy. Work keeps him occupied.”
Margaret Elizabeth frowned but said nothing. Years of nursing had taught her to hear what wasnt said. Something was off.
“Tell you what,” she said suddenly, “let me brush your hair. Its lovely, but its all tangled. Youre still too weak to manage, and heaven knows theres little enough comfort in hospital.”
Without waiting for an answer, she fetched a comb from the bedside drawer and began gently working through the knots. Eleanor Charlotte stiffened at first, then relaxed under the soothing rhythm.
“My mother used to say brushing hair was the best cure for sadness,” she murmured. “Did the same with my daughter. But my husband…” She trailed off.
“What about him?” Margaret Elizabeth asked gently.
“He called it nonsense,” Eleanor Charlotte said after a long pause. “Said long hair was just more work. That with my back, I ought to cut it shortmore practical. But I kept it. One small rebellion.”
“Good for you,” Margaret Elizabeth said. “Men dont understand. Hairs a womans strength.”
They lapsed into silence as she finished brushing and began plaiting the hair into a loose braid.
“Tell me about you,” Eleanor Charlotte asked. “Do you have family? You mentioned your husband…”
“Oh, nothing grand,” Margaret Elizabeth chuckled. “Just me and my Edwardthats our lot. Our sons in Canada, shows us the grandkids over video now and then. Forty-five years togetherhard to believe!”
“Forty-five…” Eleanor Charlotte echoed. “Victor and I will be thirty-two this year. If I make it.”
“Dont talk like that!” Margaret Elizabeth chided. “Of course you will. The surgery went well, your tests are improving. Youll be bouncing grandbabies yet.”
“Victor doesnt want grandchildren,” Eleanor Charlotte said quietly. “Says Im trouble enough as it is. More would just mean more bother.”
Margaret Elizabeths hands stilled. Something in the womans tone made her chest tighten.
“Eleanor Charlotte,” she asked carefully, “has your husband always… been this way?”
A long silence. Then a sigh. “No. When we were young, it was different. He was attentive, brought flowers, said sweet things. Then… I fell ill. My spinetrapped nerve, chronic pain. Had to leave my job. And Victor… he changed. Snapped about the medicines, the costs, how I couldnt keep house like before.”
Margaret Elizabeth gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“At first I thought it was stresswork, money. Then hoped itd ease when our daughter grew up. But she left for university, and it only worsened. I became… a burden. His word. Eleanor, youre a burden. Nothing but expense and trouble.”
“The nerve!” Margaret Elizabeth burst out. “And you put up with it?”
“What choice have I?” Eleanor Charlotte shrugged. “Where would I go? No one hires a bad back. My pensions a pittance. My daughters just starting outI wont weigh her down. So I endure, try not to rile him further.”
Finishing the braid, Margaret Elizabeth sat facing her.
“Love, you cant live like this. A husband should support you in sickness, not reproach. Thirty-two years togetherdoesnt he see you didnt choose this?”
“Victor says I did,” Eleanor Charlotte looked away. “Says I ate poorly, didnt exercise, sat wrong at my desk. And the costs… Ive skimped on medicines, but this surgeryhe was furious at the bill.”
“Wait,” Margaret Elizabeth frowned. “But the NHS covered the operation?”
“The surgery, yes,” Eleanor Charlotte nodded. “But the scans, the brace, the rehab… Moneys tight with the mortgage, his car payments…”
“And the cars his, I suppose?”
“Of course,” she gave a joyless laugh. “He needs it for workhes the breadwinner.”
Margaret Elizabeth opened her mouth, but just then a young nurse entered.
“Margaret Elizabeth, phone call for youyour husband, at reception.”
“Edward? On the phone?” She blinked. “Something must be wrong. Right, Eleanor Charlotte, Ill dash. Dont forget those drops.”
In the hallway, she spotted young Dr. Harrison talking to a middle-aged manwell-dressed, expensive watch, the polished sharpness of someone used to giving orders.
“I need a timeline,” the man was saying. “How long before shes functional? When can she come home?”
“Recovery takes time,” Dr. Harrison explained patiently. “A month here, then home care. Shell need help moving, washing…”
“Help? Ive a jobI cant nurse her full-time. Cant you speed it up? Extra treatments, stronger pills?”
“Bodies dont work like that,” Dr. Harrison said. “You could hire a carer, or perhaps family?”
“Carers cost money,” the man cut in. “No family nearbyjust our daughter, and shes in Manchester.”
Margaret Elizabeth picked up the phone, trying not to eavesdrop.
“Edward? Everything all right?”
“When are you home?” His voice was tense. “The boilers acting upthe engineer needs the homeowner.”
“Twenty minutes,” she said. “Put the kettle on, Im famished.”
Hanging up, she couldnt help overhearing the mans rising irritation.
“Doctor, Ill speak to my wife. She needs to push harder. Shes… lacking motivation.”
Dr. Harrison straightened. “Your wife had major spinal surgery. Shes doing brilliantly.”
“Just take me to her.”
They headed for the ward, Margaret Elizabeth following uneasily. Something about him set her nerves on edge.
Inside, Eleanor Charlotte was struggling to sit up. Seeing her husband, she froze.
“Victor? You came?”
“Obviously,” he stayed by the door. “Your doctor says youll be here ages.”
“Im trying,” she said softly. “Doing all the exercises.”
“Not hard enough,” he snapped. “Do you even know what this costs? Third time Ive taken leave to fetch your things, sign papers. And these endless pills…”
“I dont ask for extras,” she whispered.
“Economised your way to surgery,” he scoffed. “How many times did I tell yousee a doctor before its serious? But no, too cheap. Now look.”
Dr. Harrison cleared his throat. “Spinal conditions”
“Doctor, Ive known my wife thirty-two years,” Victor cut in. “Always putting things offwork, parenting, now health.”
Eleanor Charlotte sat silent, fingers twisting the blanket.
“Victor, please,” she finally said. “Not now. I am getting better. I wont be a bother long.”
“Bother?” He laughed coldly. “Eleanor, youve always been a burden. First the depression after the baby, then the migraines, now this. Our whole marriageme, hauling your dead weight.”
The room went still. Dr. Harrison looked furious. Margaret Elizabeth stepped forward.
“Sir,” she said sharply, “this is a hospital. That woman just had surgery. Show some respectif not for your wife, then for this place.”
Victor turned, noticing her for the first time.
“Who are you?”
“Margaret Elizabeth, senior ward sister,” she said crisply. “And Ill ask you to leave if you cant speak calmly.”
“This is my wife”
“You may visit during designated hours, politely,” she interrupted. “Right now, youre disturbing a patient.”
“I wont be ordered about by a nurse!”
“And I wont have patients insulted in my ward,” Dr. Harrison said firmly. “Leave, or Ill have you removed.”
Victor glared, then turned to his wife.
“Fine. But remember, Eleanorno carers when youre home. Sort yourself out.”
The door slammed behind him.
Eleanor Charlotte wiped her eyes but forced a smile.
“Sorry about that. Hes… not always like this. Just stressed.”
Dr. Harrison and Margaret Elizabeth exchanged glances.
“Eleanor Charlotte,” the doctor said gently, “does he often speak to you this way?”
“Oh, no,” she said quickly. “Just… work troubles, and my being ill…”
“Thats no excuse,” Margaret Elizabeth said firmly.
“Ive nowhere to go,” Eleanor Charlotte whispered. “I depend on himmoney, my health…”
“There are options,” Dr. Harrison said. “Support services, shelters. This… could be considered abuse.”
“Abuse? No! Hes never hit me. Just… words. Thirty-two yearsit wears on a person.”
Margaret Elizabeth took her hand.
“Love, thirty-two years shouldnt look like this. My Edward and Iweve had rows, yes. But to call your sick wife a burden? Thats not stress. Thats cruelty.”
“But what can I do?”
“First, heal,” Dr. Harrison said. “Well help with the rest.”
Later, at home, Margaret Elizabeth told Edward everything. He listened, shaking his head.
“Bloody bastard,” he muttered. “How do men like that live with themselves?”
“I dont know,” she sighed, pouring tea. “But hearing it… I thanked my stars for you.”
Edward reddened. “Ah, dont. Im just an old fool.”
“No,” she smiled, patting his hand. “Youre the best man I know.”
Meanwhile, in Bed Seven, Eleanor Charlotte lay awake, the drops forgotten. She thought of Victors words, of thirty-two years as a burden. Of how many more she could endure. And for the first time in years, a quiet, stubborn thought took rootmaybe it wasnt too late to change.
