The good news is, my sister's ok (physically, at least). She swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills, but thankfully realized as she started getting sleepy that she really didn't want to die after all. So that's good, I guess.
I went up on Saturday, first flight out in the morning, last flight home at night. It's awful -- she's stuck in the er at a kind of crummy-looking hospital, just sitting there until a bed opens up, possibly today. So yeah, three days of sitting in a waiting room, staring at the walls. How very therapeutic.
At some point, I'm going to need to talk to someone about all this. Right now, I'm just struggling with the feeling that I should be there, even if it's just to stare at the walls together. But see, there are these kids, one of whom doesn't take a bottle and is still nursing. It's a catch-22. I can't take E to the hospital, but I can't really leave her, either. So I'm stuck with daytrips when I can arrange babysitting, and even those I'm hoping don't leave E to wean early. And then I feel guilty that I'm thinking about things like that when my sister is going through hell. I should be dropping everything to be there, doing whatever it takes, right?
I don't know. I'm a mess right now. (a thoroughly non-suicidal mess, just in case anyone thinks that I'm sounding worse than I am.) I hope that once we figure out where she's going to be long term, things will get clearer and easier.