Off The Record
Husband Made My Mom Sleep On A Hallway Mattress During Chemo — I Taught Him A Lesson
I trusted my husband to take care of my mother, who was fighting cancer, when I left town for work. However, I couldn’t believe what I saw when I arrived home early and discovered her shivering under a single blanket on a small mattress in the hallway. How could he have been so mean?
It still feels like a nightmare, even though I never imagined that I would be writing something like this. I’m Julia, a 41-year-old married mother of a daughter who just left home to attend college.
Our home felt oddly quiet for the first time in years. I made an effort to enjoy it by preparing smaller meals and going on walks with my husband, Daniel, in the evenings, but I secretly missed my daughter and the vitality she added to our house.
The news that followed completely upended my existence. My mom received a cancer diagnosis. Anyone who has witnessed chemotherapy knows how cruel it can be, and she began it.
In order to ensure that she didn’t have to face everything alone, I wanted to be her pillar of support and stability. I informed Daniel that I wanted to spend some time with her at our place.
For background, my mother and Daniel were never close. Something never clicked between them from the start, even if they weren’t technically enemies.
One of the nicest persons I’ve ever met is my mother. When things become rough in life, she listens without passing judgment and remembers every birthday. However, Daniel seemed to feel the same way about her and always kept her at a distance.
They disagreed on nearly everything, even how to raise our kid and how to spend the holidays. Daniel believed Mom was too opinionated and intrusive, while Mom believed Daniel could be too haughty and contemptuous.
At family gatherings, they were kind and friendly despite their feelings for one another.
Since Sophie, my daughter, loves her grandmother and would leap into her arms as soon as she entered the house, their relationship has frequently remained harmonious.
However, I felt as like the floor had fallen out from under me when the doctor eventually told us the diagnosis. The hit was terrible.
I’ve always been close to my mom, and the idea of seeing her go through something so terrible devastated my heart in ways I can’t even describe.
She would require support and supervision during chemotherapy, the doctor made clear to me.
He informed me that she would become weak, confused, and occasionally unable of caring for herself as a result of the therapies. There has to be someone there every single day.
I didn’t even think twice about it then. I informed her right away that the only way I could give her the tranquility, affection, and attention she so richly deserved was for her to come stay with us.
In order to give her a sense of belonging while she was away at college, I offered her the guest room or even Sophie’s room.
I believed Daniel would understand and that I was acting in everyone’s best interests. I thought compassion would triumph over old resentment.
I had no idea how mistaken I was.
Since the guest room was comfortable, quiet, and near the kitchen, we felt it would be the best choice for Mom when I brought her home with me.
She continued to thank me from the first evening.
She said, “I don’t want to be a burden, Julia,” while she held my hand. “You’re doing too much for me.”
“You could never be a burden,” I firmly responded, squeezing back. You’re my mother.
It was almost flawless how smoothly she adapted to our home life. She was quite modest, courteous, and respectful.
She made an effort to assist around the house despite the fact that the chemotherapy left her feeling worn out most days. Even when I pleaded with her to take a break, she would meticulously sweep the porch or fold the laundry when I returned from the grocery store.
I would beg, “Mom, please,” and use a blanket to lead her back to the couch. “Here, you don’t need to do anything. Your sole task is to improve.”
She would add, “I just want to feel useful,” in her kind manner.
Then I had to depart for work in a different city one morning. Even though it was only for a day, I was nonetheless nervous about going.
I added, “I’ll be back tomorrow around lunchtime, but I’ll leave in the morning,” as I sat on the edge of Mom’s bed and brushed a lock of hair out of her face. I swear I won’t stay gone for too long. Without me, will you be okay?
She grinned. “I’ll be alright, Julia. It’s just one evening. I’ll relax now that Daniel is here. You’ve already accomplished more than enough.”
Her assurance was helpful, but the knot in my stomach persisted. I gave her a forehead kiss, wrapped her blanket around her, and promised to give her a call that night to see how she was doing. I kept telling myself that it was only one night before I went.
I chose to come home before lunch the following day because I finished work sooner than I had anticipated. Mom adored that bakery downtown, so I wanted to surprise her by maybe bringing her something wonderful to eat. However, I shall always remember what I saw when I entered the house.
A flimsy mattress had been thrown straight onto the wooden floor in the center of the hallway. My mother was lying on it. Her weak body shivered even while she slept, curled up under a blanket.
I had trouble breathing for a while. Then I hurried over to kneel next to her.
“Mom?” I yelled. “Mom, wake up, what are you doing here?”
She opened her weary eyelids and stirred. She sounded feeble, almost contrite. Daniel informed me that there was no room for me. I couldn’t sleep there, he informed me, because the guest room and even the other complimentary rooms were undergoing mold treatment. He told me that I had to remain in the hall for the night.
Mold? I pondered. Every room?
When I departed, the house was immaculate. And when I phoned to check in yesterday, why hadn’t he brought up this topic during our phone conversation?
I said, “Wait here,” and pulled the blanket more around her shoulders.
She gently took hold of my hand. “Please don’t be angry, Julia. Daniel requested that I keep it a secret. He stated that he didn’t want you to worry while traveling.”
I felt awful. She was attempting to protect me from conflict even now, laying on the cold floor in her feeble state.
“Don’t tell Daniel I came home early, Mom,” I muttered, leaning closer. Not quite yet. Please.
I forced myself to leave the house softly, acting as though I hadn’t witnessed what I had seen, after she gave me a weak nod and I kissed her forehead.
When I returned at midday, I did so loudly and with my baggage in tow, as if I had just arrived back from my vacation precisely on time.
Daniel was grinning as though nothing had happened while brewing coffee in the kitchen.
“Hey,” he uttered informally. “How was your trip?”
I made an effort to grin. “All right. Was there anything new while I was away?”
He gave a headshake. “Not at all. Here, everything was good.”
I realized then that he had deceived me. He had deceived us both.
“And how’s Mom?” I inquired. “Did she sleep okay?”
“She’s all right. No grievances. She appeared at ease when I checked on her a few times.”
He was lying with such ease that I was astounded. I feigned a smile, nodded, and remained silent.
However, as I crept down the hallway later that afternoon, I caught sight of something that made my heart skip a beat.
The corridor appeared immaculate, as though nothing had ever been there, and the mattress was gone. No pillow, no blanket, and no reminder of what I had witnessed that morning.
He seemed to have meticulously removed all traces of the evidence, creating the ideal appearance of a clean, well-organized home.
I was certain of one thing at that point. I couldn’t let this pass. There was no way to ignore it and act as if nothing had occurred.
Daniel was lounging in the living room that night, browsing through his phone, when I entered holding a box. I maintained a composed, even agreeable, expression.
I remarked lightly, “I brought you something from my trip,”
He raised his head, intrigued at once. His gaze shifted to the box, and a small, avaricious smirk appeared on his face. “Oh? A present? You were not required to.”
Between us, I placed the package on the coffee table. “All OK. Crack it open.”
Daniel eagerly leaned forward and tore off the lid. However, his smile vanished as soon as he looked inside.
Because there were pictures I had snapped with my phone that morning of my mother curled up on that little mattress in the hallway, her face wan and tired, her fragile body covered with nothing but a blanket, and they were carefully arranged at the top.
Daniel froze his hands. “What the hell is this?”
My response was, “This is the truth,” “While I was away, you did this to my mother. You informed her that there was no space for her. You told her a falsehood. You misled me. You then attempted to hide it as if it had never occurred.”
He looked at me for a while without saying anything. Then a snarl curved his lips.
His words, “She deserved it,”
The words cut like glass through me.
Daniel blew up before I could even reply. “Yes! I will reiterate what I said. She is a burden! Why did you initially invite that woman into our home? I didn’t consent to live with her. I don’t give a damn about her health or possessions. It’s not my issue.”
“That woman?” My voice trembled as I repeated. “She is my mom. I was born because of her. And you treat her like trash on the floor while she battles for hers every day?”
“Don’t make me the bad guy, Julia,” he screamed. “I maintain this place, work, and pay the expenses. And now I have to share it with an elderly woman who is so ill that she is unable to care for herself? No. I refuse to do it. Do you wish to act as a nurse? Alright. Don’t expect me to give up my life for her, though. I refuse to.”
A rage that was burning than anything I had ever experienced sprang within of me.
“Sacrifice your life?” “I said.” “You only needed to provide her with a bed, Daniel. A roof. fundamental deference. You couldn’t even handle it, either. You made her sleep on the floor like she was nothing, despite the fact that she has cancer.”
“Don’t expect me to stay if you decide on her. I refuse to live in a household where your mother arrives before your spouse.”
I looked at him for a moment and saw that the man I believed I knew was incredibly self-centered.
“Then maybe this isn’t your house anymore,” I let him know. “Because if I have to choose between my husband and my mother, I’ll choose the woman who raised me, loved me, and never once treated me like a burden.”
I didn’t give Daniel the opportunity to insult me again, but his expression darkened and his mouth opened. I got up and gestured toward the door.
“Get out,” I said. “You’re not allowed to remain here. Not after this. Not after what I’ve witnessed from you today.”
With a sneer, he snatched his keys from the counter and snarled something as he hurried away.
After he was gone, I collapsed on the couch and sobbed uncontrollably.
For the first time, I saw Daniel for who he really was. Not even a man capable of providing basic decency, let alone a spouse or protector. He was little, harsh, and self-centered. And for too long, I had been oblivious to it.
Mom was awake and sitting up, looking troubled, when I came back down the hall.
She said, “Julia, is everything alright?”
I took her hands while kneeling next to her. “Mom, it will be. I swear. He won’t harm you once more. He won’t return here at all.”
She squeezed my fingers and nodded despite her mouth quivering. “I never wanted to cause trouble between you two.”
“You didn’t,” I said in a whisper. “He revealed the truth to me. I now understand what I need to do.”
After assisting her into the guest room that evening, I took out my laptop and sat at the kitchen table. Even though my hands were still shaking, it was out of resolution rather than fear.
I entered the words that I never imagined I would have to look up. divorce lawyer in my area.
Divorce filing wasn’t simple. It required me to face years of denial, dismantle the world I had created, and come to terms with the fact that the man I thought I loved was never who I thought he was. I felt lighter, nevertheless, as if a chain around my chest had been snapped, after the documents were signed.
For the remainder of her therapy, Mom remained with us. Sophie came home every weekend to spend time with her grandmother, and I witnessed her battle with quiet strength.
Daniel called me several times, but I never picked up. Nothing else could be said. I no longer had a place in my life, and my daughter’s life, for the guy who had pushed my ailing mother onto a mattress in the hallway.
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