The Sisters are Sick.
Caregiving for my mom and her sister, 14 years apart.
I am in the car with my dad. He’s picking me up from the airport. I just spent a few weeks with my grandma. It’s summer vacation.
I am 16, and I just graduated high school. I’m going to college in a month.
I am not proud of myself. I am angry. I am bitter. I finished high school early because I wanted a gap year to travel, but my dad didn’t think it was a good idea. I was old enough to graduate early, so shouldn’t I be able to do what I want with my time?
That’s when my dad tells me my mom is sick. The doctors don’t know with what. She throws up all the time. She eats just eggs and Gatorade. The doctors insist that it’s linked to her depression, her anxiety, her eating disorder, her agoraphobia. My mom is convinced that there is another, more “physical” cause.
My dad asks if I can help take care of her while he’s at work.
I’m surprised. No one told me while I was gone. I had spoken to Mom on the phone and she sounded fine. And I had wanted to have one more fun summer before going away to college.
I come home and mom is on the couch. Even though it’s summer in Texas, she is wrapped in our Christmas blankets. She’s pale. I think of a painting of Juliet dying when I…
