...

       A few nights ago, while watching Lucifer, my DVD player crashed on me...again. It normally goes into Standby mode or whatever when you don't interact with it enough, but it didn't do that even after half an hour. I couldn't even shut the TV off. I thought it was dead and I wanted my disk, so I tried breaking it open (and only succeeded in breaking off the cover for the tray) by myself because everyone else was sleeping. Well, this month we had more money than usual, so my brother told me, "You're getting a flat screen that can hook up to Netflix."
      I cannot wait. I mean, I can, because I'm unfortunately patient, but I am excited. I get to watch new shows, new movies, in my bedroom. Which means I can watch the movies that I own but can't see, too! For some reason they have issues so serious that they kill the DVD player. And there's the one DVD that's the wrong region, too; I tried changing my computer settings so I could watch it out here, but of course I need to pay for the DVD program first.

      At least this way I can watch shows I've never seen before, in my bedroom like normal people do. I don't even so much care if my GameCube can't hook up to it, since I never use it anyway (another device that crashes, sometimes 50 times before I can even get into the game, only to have it die when I'm playing it). So, yes, I'm finally excited to be getting an upgrade. Everything I own is from the '70s, '90s at the latest. My flip phone, my TV with its ridiculous antenna and the weight of a boulder... I am so ready for this change!

...

       Guess who's back in the hospital? In, out, in, out, in, out, in, out, I do not know why she does not just stay there until she's cured. It's almost as though she wants to waste money on taxis so that she can complain about it. This time, though, she went by ambulance; I was in bed, actually feeling good for once, when the paramedic's voice disturbed me. Naturally when I went back to bed the pain flared up. I'm beginning to think it's arthritis, because my shoulder has been screwed for about a year. It's hard to move, and my back pain can get brutal. Like, hurts-to-breathe, makes-me-sick brutal.

      Anyhow. I expect her to be home in a few days, still puffy and gross. She was so swollen with water retention that she was leaving puddles everywhere. I had to put on Latex gloves I can't even count how many times, and lift her legs up onto the couch. I'm allergic to Latex, so my hand rash came back, and of course she just kept getting heavier. Over 50 pounds of just...swelling. She couldn't help but stomp on the floor. Her arms were getting big, and this is a woman who wouldn't weigh 100 pounds soaking wet (although, I suppose she is now). Her face was getting puffy, she had fluid in her lungs, she'd been dealing with it for over four months. I was afraid her throat or her brain would swell next, or the area all around her lungs would swell and squish them. I was afraid she would burst.

      And she's probably going to bust out of the hospital again. Last time, she called home and said she was being discharged, but the doctors said she was escaping. Too late, the taxi was there to get her home. She spends so much time complaining that she can't live like this anymore, and she does everything in her power to keep on living like it.

      I had a phobia of hospitals from when a nurse ripped my IV out through the tape and sprayed my blood everywhere. I had a phobia from when the radiologist grabbed a handful of my lady parts, but you know what I did when I had my stones? I sat my ass in the chair, smiled at the doctors, told them jokes, and didn't go home until they cleared me. I wasn't enjoying it, but I didn't want to make them regret treating me. They are doctors and nurses; they probably had a hell of a day already. They likely did, because people suck.

      Honestly, she's sitting in a chair, getting taken care of, it's not all that different from home. I do not know how many more times I can lift her off the couch or the toilet without my back breaking; I need her to stay inside. And I think we all need her sisters to not come down here. It's just not a good time for them to come in here and demand attention, pressure us to join them for coffee at a restau-rant, and take unwanted pictures of us. It's not a good time for them to want our advice on where they should sit. It's not a good time for them to say they found a particle of dust and blast us for not doing anything when their homes look like the garbage dump.

      I just want them to stay away. I want all the people who love me to stay away and I want all the people who hate me to talk to me. But because life is such a joke... Here I am. Getting ready to tell my aunts that the person who desperately needs, or will have already had surgery, cannot go to a restaurant! And that we, her caretakers, who need to keep an eye on her, have an ethical obligation to do that.

      God, why are all the adults in my life such children? I guess they never thought that, maybe, we live nine hours away for a reason.

      What I want, is for one thing I want, to happen. It's like the universe is working against me.

      I want to sleep so bad right now. I am so, so, so exhausted. But the pain makes it really not worth it. I'd go for a walk, but the heat would probably kill me. It's around 40 degrees Celsius today; 104 Fahrenheit. Disgusting. I hate the heat, I hate the bugs, I hate dripping. I do not understand people who love summer. Give me a week of rain, give me a blizzard, and I'll be happy. I'll go walking. And I'll still turn my fan on and open my window, guaranteed.

     I'm going to go watch some more Lucifer. Hopefully the DVD player and the disk don't break. My luck...