Just got back home from St. Louis just now.

Saw Grandmother. She had nothing better to do than to "clean" my bedroom. Clothes are stacked neatly and the other shit was pushed aside so there's a sizable amount of floor I can see. I hate it. Not only did I not want her nor anybody fucking with my stuff, now I don't know where all my shit is.

Apparently she did that instead of taking her insulin shots. I had prepared a dozen syringes for her, I think. When I came back and looked in the fridge, I see that there were 11 left.

Very disappointed. Very angry. And very worried.

She's seeing the doctor tomorrow morning. Maybe she does need to be put away.