Dramatic Sigh

It’s been awhile, so if you need a reminder, here’s part 1 and part 2.

When I last left off, my sister had returned to her old high school for her senior year. Per my ever so subtle foreshadowing, this was a bad idea. Like, really bad. Even after a year away, and sobriety, my sister wasn’t any more popular with many of the girls at her school. Unlike me, though, when someone makes fun of my sister, she’s more likely to make that person cry and/or punch them in the face than to get upset herself. She can be extremely mean, and she’s quick about it. A lot of her senior year was spent fighting in one way or another, which wasn’t great for her school work. She was suspended for a couple of (for her) minor problems and was about to be expelled again, so she dropped out in April, a month before graduation. She took her GED and scored in the 99th percentile on every area, which makes it even more depressing that she couldn’t graduate. My sister’s a goddamn genius.

After high school, she moved in with one of her best friends from her alternative high school. Don’t get me wrong, I like this girl, but she had problems on top of problems. Her dad died when she was young and left her a large trust fund, and her stepdad started getting her high and sexually abusing her when she was probably 11 or 12. She was clean at the time, but a lot of her friends weren’t, and one day my sister decided that meth sounded like fun. Or something. I can’t even claim to understand the thought process there. Meth is the filthiest, most disgusting drug I can imagine, and seeing an addict up close is not pretty.

The next year, we barely saw my sister, and when we did, it was…well, gross. She was always thin, but she dropped to about 85lbs. Her skin was gray, it was clear she never slept, and she said her teeth were getting loose. She never had the sores that a lot of meth addicts get, so it took us awhile to figure out exactly what she was doing; she claimed she was clean, but it was pretty obvious she was lying. My cousin worked for the local police department at the time, and he found out that the drug taskforce was watching the apartment my sister lived in. I think that finally scared her, and one day she called and said, “Mom, I want to come home.” She changed her phone number and didn’t tell any of her old friends where she was. And she ATE. I think she went through more ice cream in the next year than she had in her previous 18 years. (And then she got chubby, which was hilarious.)

She started dating a smart, motivated guy who ::gasp:: graduated from college and got a real job, which we think motivated her to go to cosmetology school. It was like his success made her want to be successful too, and she was. If there’s one thing my sister is good with, it’s hair. Unfortunately, they broke up after about 3 years, and she started dating her current boyfriend. Don’t get me wrong, we get along great, but he also sells drugs. And I know my sister helps. My parents don’t know everything I know, but enough to be concerned when my sister recently lost 20lbs, started sleeping constantly, and having low energy. Oh, and being a total cuntrag when she WAS around. wWe thought she was using again, even though she insisted she wasn’t (yeah, we’d heard that one before).

My sister finally went to the doctor a few weeks ago, and was diagnosed with diabetes and hypothyroidism. She was told she will be insulin dependent within a year, and started taking medication. The big, fat HOWEVER is that the doctor she went to is apparently a fucking idiot, because she called to make a follow up appointment and the receptionist said, “Oh, yeah, he got the rest of your tests back and said you’re not diabetic so stop taking that medicine.” He didn’t call her, didn’t come to the phone to explain, nothing. My mom is a nurse and I thought she was going to commit murder, but instead she made her an appointment with a specialist, because her symptoms are real, and her sugar and thyroid levels are out of control. We still don’t know what it is, so we’re sort of waiting in limbo to figure out what’s really wrong. Whatever it is, we’ll get through it because, when my sister and I got each other’s names tattooed on our backs, we promised we’d add wings if anything ever happened to the other. I’m not getting fucking wings, so she has to be ok. The end.

(Coincidentally, today is also my sister’s 24th birthday, so I’m going to make a diabetic friendly cake (just in case) and thank god I still have a sister, even if she CAN be a total bitchface and make me want to smother her with a pillow.)