It’s great. Things are great.
Actually, things are better and worse than I expected. My sister was just too overwhelmed to function, so she left on Monday, after I got there, to go back to Asheville, with the promise that she’d be back today.
Which was fine by me. Her inability to function as an adult would’ve only gotten in my way. Having her gone cleared a lot of stuff up for me.
All the thousands of issues she just couldn’t handle on her own? Yeah 90% of that was smoothed out within the first few hours I was at the hospital. Most of it, I probably could’ve done from Vegas, if I’d been given an accurate account of what was going on.
So that’s great.
My mom’s still a fucking idiot. Her pain is out of control, so learning how to manage it, without morphine, is a priority. Since she won’t have access to it when she’s discharged to her rehab facility. But they only give her any kind of medication when she asks for it, and they have repeatedly told her she needs to not wait until it’s agonizing before she asks for it. And she repeatedly waits until it’s agonizing before asking for it.
When I’m there, I have to remind her to ask for it. When I don’t, then she doesn’t ask.
And that sums up, in a nutshell, what it’s like trying to get her to manage her illness. The pain pills are just one of many things she could be doing that would make her life a hundred times more comfortable.
But then she wouldn’t be the center of attention.
She needs a constant fucking babysitter for every fucking thing. I keep reminding her that I’m leaving on Monday. I won’t be here to make her do shit. I won’t be here to remind her to do shit.
And she says she understands. And then she does the exact thing she’s not supposed to do.
Her health sucks, by the way. I highly doubt she’s going to be around much longer. I honestly don’t care, I’m just trying to get her to a point where she can manage her pain and manage her illness without me holding her hand and reminding her of every single tiny thing. Even when I write shit down for her, it doesn’t matter. She just doesn’t do it.
I’m not staying here indefinitely. I’m not going to drop my entire life to babysit her for the rest of hers.
And then, my sister.
Who was supposed to be back today. We need to go to my mom’s house to pack up a bunch of her shit for her to take to the rehab facility. And we need to sit down with my uncles and figure out a plan for the longterm (since I’m not going to be here to walk them all through it, which they apparently don’t believe or don’t want to acknowledge).
She decided she’s not coming back until Saturday (I’m leaving Monday morning, by the way). And she decided not to tell us about this decision.
So at 4 o’clock this afternoon, my mom finally called, to ask if she was almost here. And that’s when she saw fit to let us know she wouldn’t be back.
Oh but I had to drop my entire goddamn life and fly across the country rightfuckingnow.
I could’ve been at a hotel with star tonight. That’s where I should be. That’s where I want to be.
Instead, I’m babysitting two infantile adults who can’t handle the smallest fucking things on their own.
I could’ve been spending time with a sexy slut, doing amazing things to her.
Instead I’m holding the hands of two adults who I’m increasingly convinced are legitimately mentally handicapped.
It’s great. Things are great.