Broken. It’s just mind over matter now. Home and rest is so far away…
Getting my brother moved (a Herculean feat) will help my parents’ mental state immensely. But I can’t make up for 30 years of heartbreak and difficulty. And I wasn’t always so understanding of their ordeals in dealing with him.
My Dad’s out of the hospital. He has a leaky heart valve, for which he’ll not be getting open heart surgery. So apparently he’s been sent home to die. Which will get him first–the heart or the cancer or a stroke caused by both…?
I’m crushed and I want to lie in bed and have a good cry. But I can’t. And the bitchy older sister who has heretofore not lifted a finger and refuses to have anything to do with my brother isn’t doing much for my health either. But I’m glad for at least some support. She’s the only one not ill (probably because she has no qualms walking away).
Melodrama, I know. But it really is tragic. I envy people whose lives aren’t one giant inferno.
I’m so tired and sad.