Sasha was doing better and now she's kind of in the middle; she's not dying and we're not in panic mode, but she's not doing as well as the last trigger point injection. [read: I want my bed back!] Emily is actually doing better tiny bits at a time as she eats fewer corn derivatives and weans off the migraine preventatives. Steven was around and helping but he gambled away all the money and stopped helping or paying child support and is allegedly in rehab. I think we'll qualify for state aid as soon as I empty the girls' education funds. As I have slightly fewer migraine days each month but more functionality, I am still crushed by the overwhelming amounts of slack to pickup by the loss of even a shitty parent.
For a brief moment, it looked like hope. Instead it's life, like it's always life. For my next trick I'll not lose my shit when my relatives continue to support white supremacy, or the next time my face hits the pavement in a bike wreck, or when there are obscene amounts of phone calls and paper work to get the expensive meds that are late due to too many errors from too many places. Honestly, my biggest sadness is that the house will never be clean. It will never be clean. I'm still motivated to kick ass like my mom kicks ass day in and day out, there is just no feasible goal beside survival anymore. And that's shitty.