Tom and I dated for only four weeks before we married. It didn’t seem to matter at the time as we were soul mates. However, a few months into the marriage I wondered about the wisdom of this.
Night after night he would return home late from work explaining that he’d been visiting his elderly parents. It didn’t add up and one week, after four consecutive late nights, I confronted him. If he was having an affair, I wanted to know.
Tom took my hands in his and sat me on the sofa. I steeled myself for the inevitable news that my new husband had been playing around. Tom took a deep breath and explained that his sister, Jen, was mentally ill. His frequent visits to his parent’s house at all hours of the day were to help his parents coax Jen into taking her medication. If she didn’t take the medication she became aggressive towards her parents and eventually she needed to go to the psychiatric hospital. Tom and his parents spent most of their time trying to prevent this from happening, but it was a relentless process as Jen refused to admit she had any sort of problem and wasn’t convinced that the medication, which gave her side-effects, was needed.
After Tom disclosed this emotional information to me, I smiled like a fool. I was so happy that Tom wasn’t having an affair. I assured Tom that together we would get through this crisis and it wasn’t a big deal. Tom grimaced in return. Only someone with a relative who is mentally ill knew what sort of life the family of that person led. Our lives were to descend into an endless cycle of turmoil.
With the birth of my two daughters, it was a mutual decision that I give up my career and become a stay-at-home mum. Resentment soon set in as night after night I dealt with the dinners, baths and bedtimes whilst Tom spent late nights at his parents’ house dealing with Jen. When he arrived home he was mentally and physically exhausted. Money was tight as Tom couldn’t apply for promotions because of all his family commitments. Running two families was hard work.
We never had a family holiday as Tom felt he couldn’t leave his sister. His stress levels increased to the point where our relationship became monosyllabic. And then my husband’s elderly parents passed away within a month of each other.
It was taken for granted that Tom and I would look after Jen. His sister moved in straight away and life became much worse. I couldn’t deal with the weird comments about my children and the general paranoia. I didn’t mind so much for me but I was angry that my children had gone from having an easygoing home life to a situation where we all had to watch what we said in case we set Jen off.
The last straw was when Tom and Jen returned from yet another psychiatric appointment and she threw the medication script down on the lounge and stormed off to her bedroom screaming that there was nothing wrong with her. My husband turned to me and for the first time since I had met him I saw tears glimmer in his eyes.
Enough was enough. I slipped the script into my purse and picked up the medication on my next visit to the chemist. Jen always had a cup of tea at 4pm each day without fail and I was the one who made it for her. So, from that day on, I meticulously slipped the medication into my sister-in-law’s cup of tea unbeknownst to anyone. I convinced myself that I wasn’t doing anything wrong. After all, the doctor had prescribed the pills and I was giving the correct dose. What could be the harm in that?
The effect on Jen was almost immediate. Jen was suddenly this bright, lovely person and life as we knew it changed. Tom’s stress levels decreased and it was as if we had embarked on a second honeymoon. The change in Jen was so distinct that Tom even suggested we take that long awaited holiday. And out of necessity, at my insistence, we asked Jen along. I managed to slip the medicine into her drinks on the holiday as well.
On returning from the holiday Tom commented to me that he’d never been happier. He just couldn’t get over the change in Jen.
However, our happiness was short-lived. The prescription had only been for a year, which was nearly up and I was hoping Jen’s annual psychiatric appointment would provide another repeat script.
When Tom and Jen arrived home from the psychiatrist appointment I greeted them at the door. Grinning, Tom told me that the psychiatrist couldn’t believe Jen hadn’t been taking any medication as her behaviour had improved so much. The psychiatrist said that in some cases people do improve with age. He said it could actually be considered a minor miracle and that there no need for him to see Jen again. I gasped as I realised my plan had backfired. Jen skipped to her room laughing happily.
There was no way out. How could I confess to my husband that I had been medicating his sister? I could be put in jail. I had the children to think about.
Jen’s condition deteriorated suddenly as the medication was eliminated from her system. Hello to that familiar endless cycle of chaos. Oh well, we did manage to have one good year. And a family holiday to boot!
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