Every day: get up, do my best

Sis had a mildly better day yesterday. Still, it breaks my heart to see how emaciated she is in spite of all of her effort to drink the Ensure. It breaks my heart that I must be at work and earn a living to keep the roof over both of us when I also want to stay put and assist her. So, I get up every day, do my best at work; go home, assist Sis, do my best. Try to sleep for the next day all over again.

I am NOT Wonder Woman, Super Girl or Mother Teresa

I am angry that my sister has to suffer her illness. I am angry that I am a caregiver yet again. When is all I have finally enough? On top of that all, I know that my sister is also doing the best she can. We are both scared. I try to think back and console myself with this thought: a year ago we were scared that she would be paralyzed and then die. And she is still here and moving. Maybe only to the bathroom and back, but she is STILL MOVING. But she is slowing down, moving less and demanding more. And I have absolutely no one to help me. No one.