Yesterday I wrote about my depression and hitting a very rough patch. Today, I'm doing a little better.

Writing about it yesterday, I surprisingly found, helped. I don't know why. Maybe because I was very literally in the moment of it when I wrote.

I also talked with my roomies about what was going on too. They we're supportive, and that helped too.

At 8amish this morning, I got a phone call. My sister was back in the hospital. End of February this year, she had to have hip revision surgery on the hip she had a replacement done from a few years back. Everything was going great recovery wise, and then 2 weeks out her husband took her to the ER. After extensive testing, they discovered she had a form of MRSA.

Back into surgery they wheeled her to flush the incision and clean everything up.

A week and a half ago, Birdy, as we call her-nickname for Roberta, had finished up her intravenous antibiotics, and had the PIC line removed. She was prescribed another oral antibiotic, and would be on it for a year.

Things began to gradually go downhill again. However, Birdy being Birdy, kept alot of what was going on until something like this happens where she winds up back in the ER.

It was quickly determined that the MRSA was back, and the oral antibiotics weren't doing anything. This time, the Drs here determined there wasn't anything more they could do, and that Birdy will have to be transported, via ambulance, to University Hospital in Denver for treatment. She leaves Tuesday. It's going to be a very long day for her, in an ambulance.

When I heard what she was saying on the phone, I actually took it all well. My sister is pretty much the only immediate family I have left. She is the reason I'm where I'm at now, and she has been pretty much my rock with this whole struggle of me waiting to get on disability.

However, Birdy is notorious for running herself ragged; spreading herself way too thin. While in rehab on IV antibiotics fighting MRSA, she still left the facility to help an elderly friend with their yardsale. At times she can be selfless to the point of self destruction. She's also a workaholic, like our father, and generally has only two speeds. Go go go! And stop. Stop pretty much being for sleeping.

I kid not about this. My sister has had three hip replacement surgeries, prior to this surgery, wobbles like a weeble and STILL walks so fast, I generally can't keep up with her. I am 10 years younger than her too.

As previously stated, I took the news pretty well. Maybe a little too "well".

I got up, showered and dressed, and began going about my day and doing all I could to try and support Birdy however I could. I reached out to friends in Denver to see if they'd be willing to give her a visit: people I trusted. Due to my current situation, I had no way to get over to her in Denver, and at this point, her husband wouldn't be going over either (a story for an-other time).

The good thing about Denver, is that it was far enough away, that it would force Birdy to slow down, and focus on getting well.

The bad thing about Denver was that due to isolation, Birdy could become depressed thus complicating her recovery.

My sister has the same depression diagnosis as me. She just deals with it in a different way.

Dressed and with errands to run, I headed out the door. My van needed gas before I could do anything else, and as I pulled into the gas station, I noticed a young family, parents with 3 small children, sitting with the back hatch of the van up, and the father holding a sign asking for help with food and gas.

Car after car passed by, people going in and out, with occasionally someone waving at them. Really? Waving? They don't need new friends, they need HELP!

As a disabled person doing the "hurry up and wait" routine for disability, I have been there. I have had no place to sleep except for my van in my sister's backyard. I also had spent a night or two camped out in my van in a Walmart parking lot. With no money, and very little gas- or vice versa. I have pulled into gas stations with a little change in my pocket to get gas, and risked the look of judgement, asking someone if they had $5 to spear. Fortunately, they did and were kind as well.

More cars went by. One with an RV stopped to talk to them, but then went on their way. I had very little money, but thought maybe if they we're just trying to get up the road a ways, $10 could help.

These were people, with little children, 3 of them mind you, that needed help and no one was stopping!

I was furious!

I approached them. No. They we're trying to get to Sacramento. They had a little gas, but $10 wouldn't be enough. What about food? They had a little food. I'd go and get them some water and food. I didn't have much, but there was a dollar store up the road with water and food, and that would help a little.

I pulled out of the gas station with tears in my eyes and angry. I could tell by their accents the couple we're probably of Arabic decent. In this area where I live, people loved to judge, and judged even more harshly those who were different from most here. I can't be for certain, but I couldn't help wondering if the few people approached them, changed their minds upon hearing the accent.

At the dollar store I multi-tasked: shopping and fuming at the same time! This stupid valley! The people could be so mean and heartless!! Judging anyone they could where ever they could! Serving up their versions of "tough love"!

I wanted to scream! I wanted to break the windows of all the fancy cars that drove by and did nothing!

I could so identify with their situation! At a precipice with no where to go but further down. Completely alone with what seemed like no one caring what happened, and I could only imagine they were even more scared for their children then anything.

I returned with 2 gallons of water, baby wipes and snacks. I don't know if it really helped much. I don't know what will happen for them.

They kept saying to me "God Bless You" over and over. I felt that I didn't do nearly enough."

I thought about how so many judge and say that these people aren't struggling that hard and were only trying to make an easy dollar. In this case, I actually hope it's true. Not because I want them to be guilty of trying to take advantage, but because I rather their pockets be full of money, and them and their kids sleeping in a motel room tonight on beds. Them rising in the early morning to hit the road, warm food in their bellies: content and strong to continue their journey on the road.

And my hope is that my sister returns home to us sooner then later: healthy and close to her old cheerful self. Maybe then, I can be her rock.

All images Pixabay

Out of privacy for this family, I did not take any pictures