My sister got hurt again

Warning: post contains profanity and may trigger those dealing with trauma, either in terms of caretaking abuse or carelessness.


I call my family every Friday night. It’s the start of our Sabbath, and it’s a time for family and relaxation and connection. Lily comes home for dinner and stays with my parents overnight, which eases the strain on her staffing needs. But tonight, for the second week in a row, things are not going according to plan.

My sister has one broken finger and several bruised ones.

I have no idea what happened; I am too far away and everyone is too upset for coherent conversation. They’re trying to balance dealing with Adult Protective Services and making dinner and my sister’s oscillating moods. (Just in the few minutes I talked to her, she fretted that someone was talking about eyes and bragged that she’d pulled Mom’s hair and happily discussed the food she was eating as a snack.)

This is horrible. One week ago, we buried my grandmother. My parents are in no shape to deal with this. Hell, I’m in no shape to deal with it, and I’m pretty well removed from all of it. The shock and anger and concern.

…and, you know, the tiny issue of this being the second time in a month that Lily has presented with a serious injury. Part of the reason this feels so jarring is that my parents now have to figure out if they can let Lily stay in this program.

If Lily can’t stay in her apartment, but has to move back home? I can’t imagine that. I just can’t. Lily has blossomed so much in her own life! And my parents are just not really up for the task of 24/7 care of a young woman who wants to live an active, social, busy life…while living their own lives.

But my G-d! A broken finger! I gather that what’s been said is that someone stepped on her hand. How the fuck hard do you have to step on someone’s hand to break a finger? And bruise the other ones? I bruise myself with startling frequency, including having a furniture dolly drop onto me during my recent move, and I have NEVER BROKEN A BONE. (Unless a tooth counts, but it was a dying baby tooth that cracked.) Is my sister that fragile? Maybe. But that still would shock me.

My guilt over not being there to help protect her, care for her, ease my parents’ burden…well, it’s not lessened by this.

My poor sister. I hope her hand heals quickly and she is okay and gets to live the life she wants.


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