Yesterday morning, my husband's aunt, a dear, dear woman whom we all loved immensely, died suddenly (from something that should have been easily diagnosed MONTHS ago; thanks, worthless doctor). Not so suddenly that she didn't have time to be life-flighted to a major hospital in our city, so we saw her beforehand, which was terrible (but for which I am grateful nonetheless). She was far too young for this to happen.
My own mother is staying with us because we are trying to figure out why she keeps getting MRSA in her lungs. Living with her stresses me out, as always; I see in her my own bad tendencies, and it's hard to be reminded of them. And it's hard to watch her grow smaller in so many ways.
My husband is STILL fighting this horrible back pain that hasn't yet been diagnosed (FINALLY this week we will have the neurology appointment that's been delayed for months while his primary care physician didn't want to order an MRI, and then the neurologist was on sabbatical). There is no amount of encouragement or inspiration or anything that can make him get up and out of bed for a simple walk. I'm pretty sure I'm a terrible caregiver because on one hand I enable him--I mean, damn, who would want to get up with back pain that is regularly an 8 on the pain scale?--and on the other hand I sometimes am short tempered and less than kind.
Work, stressful work. Errands. Housework. Trying to make sure I take care of myself too, so that I can be there for everyone.