I’m sitting here at my computer after a day that feels like a missing chapter from Dante’s Inferno.

This year has been an absolute walking hell for my family in terms of medical problems.

I don’t talk about it often, but I am an identical twin. (I’ll let you see if you can figure out which is which.)

My sister’s name is Loraina.

Her name is Loraina, we are twins, and we really haven’t spoken much in about 7 years.

And five minutes ago she was rushed into emergency surgery.

And I am in the process of packing up my work and life to go and camp out in her hospital room (and work from there) to help take care of her and to advocate for her care.

There isn’t anyone else to do it.

Trust me, if there were someone, ANYONE, else to do this, it would happen.

But there isn’t.

Just me.

And I am frustrated, angry, a bit bitter and scared out of my mind.

I also know I will take EXCELLENT care of her and keep these feelings to myself.

I’m used to this with her.

She has a world of health problems. They started manifesting in earnest in high school and have gotten steadily worse (sometimes by leaps and bound) as we have gotten older. I have health issues as well (we share some of the same ones) but mine look like absolutely nothing in comparison to hers.

In fact, it was just last year that we were pretty much where we are again today.

And those problems have reared their heads again. She had surgery a few days ago and has been in the hospital. (She’s being rushed into emergency surgery to deal with complications from the first surgery.)

And like I did last year, I have been sitting here the last few days wondering what to do.

Because I felt so flipping conflicted.

I didn’t know if I was going to see her.

Like I said, we have barely spoken since my son died and there is a lifetime of issues with us and I just didn’t know what I should do. I poured out my frustration to a wise friend and their response to me was, “Be the bigger sister, Loralee.”

I wanted to throat punch them in that moment.

I wanted someone on my freaking side.

I raged in my head at them, totally being a juvenile brat and pissed when they had known me and her long enough to KNOW BETTER. Or so I thought.

Why SHOULD I have to always be the bigger person in this?

WHY?

I have been the bigger sister our whole damn lives and it really hasn’t gotten me far.

In a nutshell, we have an extremely complicated relationship.

If you know, you know.

If you don’t, you don’t.

And you won’t.

Basically, you’re not going to find out what those issues are here.

Don’t get me wrong, there is a LOT to say about what those issues are. And the pettier side of me is mightily tempted to just lay it all out there on the table because there is a lot that could explain and justify why I feel so conflicted and somewhat angry at all of this, but really…it’s something that is none of your business and if that means that you think I’m a blogging cock-tease, drama hag or think less of me for my baser feelings of anger and frustration in a life threatening situation, so be it.

I don’t really give a damn what anyone thinks of me right now.

So, there I sat, hemming and hawing over the words of my long-time friend and their advice. I try very hard to really listen and think when someone I trust gives me advice and I got very little sleep last night churning everything over in my head.

In the end, my friend said something that not only negated my pissed off umbrage at them, but finally made me come to the decision to go see her.

“If you don’t do this entirely for her, what about doing it for you and your mental heath?”

That made me step off the bratty ‘DON’T YOU FLIPPING CARE ABOUT ME IN THIS SITUATION?!” soap box of pissiness. Of COURSE they cared. They cared when they offered their first bit of advice, I was just being too selfish and whiny to listen.

Like it or not, she is my sister.

My twin sister.

I know if something happens to Loraina, I will be in a special state of hell. I am her twin and no one will feel that loss the way I would, even with all our problems. I know that if I didn’t do everything in my power to be there for her I would never forgive myself.

I had very little confidence a visit and some flowers would make it all better, but I had to try.

I know WAY too much about regret and what it does to you to not at least see her.

So, I got in my car, picked up my elder sister for emotional support and went to see her today.

And it was absolutely….horrible.

It had nothing to do with our relationship, really. Her situation and condition was HORRIBLE. Horrifying. Critical. So awful, I’ve never seen anyone in such a state.

And it became VERY clear that someone needed to physically be with her at the hospital during the day. Her husband getting there at 7pm is not going to cut it. Plus, issues or not, I know how to deal with her in a way that really few can.

And there is NO ONE ELSE THAT CAN DO IT.

So, here I am, waiting for my laundry to finish so I can pack and deal with all the fallout and make sure that I have everything I need to work out of her hospital room. I am also trying to process the fact that she was just rushed into a nightmare emergency procedure and no one knows how it is all going to turn out.

And most importantly, I am trying to push all the emotions of the situation far, far away so that I can focus and be the best damn advocate and caretaker I can for her.

But I feel overwhelmed.

I haven’t really recovered from taking care of my mother yet.

I feel like I’ve aged a decade in a day.

I’m exhausted.

And the real work has yet to begin.

But I know I can, and will, do this.

Because she is my sister.

You know the moment when the night turns from black to midnight blue?

I have always hated that time of day.

It often feels so gloomy and sad that it is almost physically oppressive to me.

I tend to have really intense nightmares. The worst part isn’t that I have them. I could live with that, as much as they can suck. The thing that REALLY frustrates me is that once they appear I am very unlikely to get back to sleep.

Which leaves me alone and staring at the ceiling at 4 am.

When Matthew was alive he ALWAYS woke me up for a feeding around this time. When Butterlump still had night feedings he was pretty much is in a coma by the end of the bottle so his feedings were so quick and effortless I was back in bed asleep before I could overly think about anything.

He was a very easy baby.

My Little Bug was very different.

I saw a lot of 4 ams with Matthew.

We were almost always awake nursing when it happened. The physical urgency of needing to feed him woke me up without fail. It was quite a chore to feed Matthew. He was very fussy and difficult in a lot of ways, though I loved him more then anything in the world. It would take me a long time to feed him and get him back to sleep. We spent MANY hours in the wee smalls rocking and soothing and singing endless lullabies.

When he was he was alive, this time of day simply didn’t bother me. I had a pal, a friend, someone to love on and snuggle and sing to and rock. I loved having his wee little presence keep my heart company in that melancholy atmosphere.

Then he died.

For months and months afterwards, I would often wake up automatically at his feeding time, just as that cold, hard, sad light seeped into my bedroom. It would hurt my heart so much it was physically painful and the only thing I could do is wrap my arms around myself and shake and sob until I was exhausted.

I wished more than anything in those moments that I had a remote control to my life so that I could fast forward past that godawful pain.

Slowly, over time, the nights have gotten easier. For the last several years I’ve had a lot of nocturnal preoccupation of one kind or the other, mainly thanks to ye olde Internet and that crack whore called “Twitter”.

And then Aaron, my wee little Butterlump, was born and the nights got so much easier.

I have had a lot of healing going on the last 7-and-a-half- years. (Wow. Has it really been so long since I’ve seen him? UGH.)

I have the most adorable little toddler snoring in the next room and sucking on his thumb. He is one of the very best blessing of my life and he has healed my heart more then I can describe, and yet right now?

I want my Matthew.

I want my friend.

No one has replaced him.

No one fills this time of the night like he did, not even Aaron.

I’d almost forgotten how lonely four o’clock in the morning can be.

Almost.

Matthew has been gone a long time.

And still…nights like tonight somehow manage to find me.

I think they probably always will.