Tomorrow my sister is going to Homewood. She’ll be there for 6 weeks. She was there two years ago and for most of those two years she did quite well. Still every time she relapses the wait begins again. It reminds me of when our dog was sick last year. He had 4 surgeries. In between each surgery we had up to a week to see if the stitching in his intestine would hold. Each time he went in his chances of recovering decreased until by the last surgery he only had a 5% chance of surviving. The days and hours after each surgery were brutal. Normal life, like eating, drinking, getting a little sleep, going for walks, continued but you were always in this suspended state of wondering what would happen next. And sure enough he would relapse.

 

That’s what it’s like with my sister. You just wait until it happens again. Normality I guess is one of those things that helps you survive but I hate the suspense of waiting for that terrible thing to happen. I feel like I have that most of my life. Probably because I grew up in drama central. (I haven’t even touched on the rest of my family. Oi.)