So fairly shortly I will revert to being primary caregiver on an open-ended basis. My sister will be carrying as much of the load as I (and she carried far more than I while our mother was in the hospital), but the logistical stuff like overnight meds falls here, except when I am out traveling.
Even with my aunts en suite, this is taking up a lot of my time, attention and emotional resources. How could it not? This is my mother we're talking about. All this while cramming calendula_witch's birthday and many other things into my schedule. In turn, that means I have gotten virtually no writing done. I'm almost a month behind on launching my efforts on Kalimpura. As a practical matter, today is pretty much shot for writing time, but I hope to re-enter novel space tomorrow for the process of first drafting.
I am frustrated by life at the moment. I pride myself on being able to write through just about anything. For the most part, this is true. Though I've never tested this assertion, I'm pretty sure I could write in a bar fight. Apparently what I cannot do is write through 11.5 months of ongoing healthcare crisis and stress.
I want my mother healthy. I want me healthy. I want everyone else around me to stay healthy, damn it. Then I want to write books and stories.