From real life. “I hope your children do the same to you”: My aunt told me when I put my sister in a care center

I got a sister late. I already had my own family at that age and I didn't think my parents would have a new family member at that age.

Or rather just my mother, because my father died shortly before she found out she was pregnant. She gave birth to a girl, Bogusia. Unfortunately, she was not healthy. You can count on the fingers of one hand what was wrong with that child, but my mother did not despair. She ran around to doctors and rehabilitation centers, hoping to cure her sister.

All this made me feel like I had lost my mother. She talked about Bogusia all the time, she wasn't interested in me or my children. It hurt me, but I kept it to myself so as not to seem selfish. I visited them from time to time, but I didn't stay long. My sister didn't accept me at all, she would barge in and mutter indignantly. That's why I stopped trying to get in touch with her. Of course, taking care of a sick child didn't go unnoticed by my mother. She lived for fifteen years, after which she hired an assistant who would sometimes come to their place and help.

Then she lived for another five years and completely died out, giving all her strength to Bogusia. Before she died, she asked me to take care of her sister, and I couldn't refuse her. My relatives practically swore they would help me. Not physically, but financially. For this reason, I didn't send her to a special facility where specialists would take care of her. It was very difficult. My husband and I had to move into my mother's apartment to take care of her. The children were already adults and didn't need to stay in this hell.

Bogusia was unbearable. She would only calm down in her room and would throw a tantrum every time I went to feed her or take her to the bathroom. Remembering my promise to my mother, I held on with all my strength. After my mother's funeral, my relatives would sometimes call to see how I was doing. I would ask them for help, to look after my sister, so I could go out sometimes, but they always had something to do. My husband didn't last long either, but I don't blame him for that. No, we didn't get divorced: he moved back to our apartment.

Bogusia and I were left alone, I hoped she would get used to me, that we would get along, but it got worse. I stopped even leaving the apartment, I was afraid to leave her alone. My husband or the children would bring me food and everything I needed. I was so involved in my sister's care that I didn't notice how my own life was shaping up. I only realized this when my youngest daughter got pregnant. She refused to come to me, and I couldn't leave. The nurse was expensive, and I didn't have that kind of money. “You're becoming like a granny,” my daughter said, offended, and then I fainted.

I felt like I had woken up. I looked around, looked at myself in the mirror, and realized with horror that I had aged five years in six months. It terrified me. That was when I started frantically looking for a good special care facility for my sister. My aunt somehow found out about it and made a big deal out of it. She said it was wrong, that I had to take care of my sister, and that it would count in the afterlife.

That's when I broke down and suggested that she take the “key to heaven” with her, but for some reason she refused. She started talking about my sisterly duty and something else, but I wouldn't listen to her anymore, and then I threw her out of the house. I felt bad about it, but then again, was I going to sacrifice my life to care for my sister who was doing everything in her power to resist my care? Honestly, it seemed to me that Bogusia didn't even fully realize that the people around her had changed.

I didn't see a drop of understanding in her and that made me feel better. All my relatives condemn me for this, but I don't care. I stopped communicating with them. My family is important to me and the fact that I can share important moments of our lives with my husband and children.

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