Sister has stopped taking her antidepressant. It explains much. She now claims she never hung up on me. I just wrote her several notes I'll probably live to regret.
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I'm not sleeping well at night. Dad wouldn't let the nurse turn off the light in his room last night. He's not getting the care he needs. I fear I'm always going to be the evil sister who tried to kill Dad by getting him on hospice.
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I'm trying not to care, but I do care, and the whole situation is breaking my heart. He'll be dead soon, with or without hospice. It shouldn't matter, but it does. After 24 years of seeing all the good hospice can do, my own sister doesn't trust that maybe I want what's best for Dad.
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