Previously, when I was sick and resting at home, I was bedridden with a high fever. My husband, Brandon, my son, Bryan and my mother-in-law, Brenda, each came to my bedside one after the other.
"Mom, I'm hungry. Get up and make me some food."
"Where's the soy sauce in the kitchen? Mom can't find it, so why don't you get up and cook?"
"My grandson is too much to handle and Brandon can't manage. Hurry and get up to take care of your son."
They weren't concerned about me, they just wanted to see if I was pretending to be sick so they could make me get up and do housework. In the end, I couldn't get up and heard complaints all around the house as my mother-in-law cooked and everyone ate together.
In that family gathering, I was not included. I was starving and was left with nothing but a bowl of cold porridge.
"Aren't you running a fever? Eat something cold to bring it down."
I washed the dishes from that meal the next day after my fever broke. They only needed me when there was a problem. Otherwise, I was invisible. No one in this family ever listened to me, nor did anyone care about my feelings.