I literally just burst into tears and had a severe anxiety attack in the middle of a hospital with my grandmother asleep in the bed.
My grandmother doesn’t speak English. That means there has to be someone in the hospital room with her as often as possible, because no one there can translate to Arabic.
And that responsibility has fallen to me. So, I wake up at 5:30 every morning, drive two hours to get to work, work for eight hours, drive two hours back, and then sleep on the hospital room couch–waking up every twenty minutes to get her a nurse–then rinse and repeat the next day. I have a shit ton of backed up papers and projects that I haven’t touched, work for this volunteer thing I already got roped into and material for a standardized exam I need to study for.
It built up astronomically today, and I just had a complete nervous breakdown.
And as if that isn’t enough, my blood sugar is over 200 every single morning, despite the fact that I eat basically nothing, now.
Why has this all fallen to me? Because my mother and one of my uncles are overseas, and my grandmother’s other children just don’t seem to think it’s fucking important to be here. They haven’t even fucking visited. Their excuses are just lovely.
One of them is a teacher, and said that she had an open house, so she couldn’t come during the long weekend (Labor Day). She had to work.
Another one of them does not work or go to school, but is too busy studying for a licensing exam to come allllll the way here. Yes, because it is so impossible to study in Jersey, right? No, home is the only place that she can read off a fucking index card.
Their mother has been in a hospital for eleven fucking days. Eleven. Fucking. Days.
How about a round of applause for the worst children ever?
They all know that I go to school and work 2 hours away from the hospital she is in. I spend ten hours of my day out, and then come back to a woman who needs my help too much for me to get some real sleep. I have epilepsy and diabetes. I fucking need sleep or I really will collapse. It doesn’t matter, because I have zero choice in the matter. She is alone for long periods of time as it is. I can’t just leave her like that.
I am constantly too tired to do anything at all, and everything is piling up into a huge mound of dirt that I am going to be buried six feet under very soon.
This is a really hard time for us, and I will keep doing my part and making up for their absence.
But I will never forgive them.
Hopefully, I won’t break down like that, again. My grades cannot afford for me to slip.
Just say a little prayer for her. Things aren’t looking up.