The saga with my sister continues. As you have already heard a zillion times, my 22-year-old sister, who lived with us rent-free for 3.5 years, recently moved out. We turned her room into an office.

Last night, she called me from the emergency room as she has a severe case of mononucleosis. Her lymph nodes are so swollen she can hardly speak.

Markos is out of town and I am alone with the two kids. I will add a third to my brood as my sister requires care. I am about to pick her up at her friend’s house and she will live with us for the next two to three months, or until she gets better. The doctor ordered rest and a drastic cutback on her work schedule. (My dad has agreed to help pay her bills to make up for the loss of income.)

While Markos groaned upon hearing of her impending (re)arrival, I jumped at the chance to take care of her. I had a bout of mono in college and it was terrible. I had a fever, was weak all over and my spleen was swollen to the point that part of my belly was sensitive to touch.

Mono, by the way, is an infection caused by a virus and is prevalent among college students or adolescents who get no sleep, tend to share cups and cigarettes and their immune systems are especially susceptible to illness. If left untreated, it could turn into Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, leaving you with a bone-weary feeling and depression the rest of your life.

I have to say since my bout of mono in 1997, I was never the same. My body was unable to pull any more all-nighters and I am more susceptible to depression when I do not sleep. It is one of my regrets from my youth and something I wish I had learned about at college orientation. I wish I had told my sister that if she did not have a manageable schedule she could get it.

I spoke to the kids’ pediatrician and she told me as long as we did not kiss my sister or share her toothpaste, it should be safe for her to stay with us. Mono is passed through saliva. I am taking the extra precaution of having my sister eat with disposable plastic forks and knives as well as paper plates. (It sounds crass, but that's what Markos and I did when I contracted the illness. And hey, I will be serving her the meals!)

But something even more frightening occurred to me: What if she had gotten a more serious and contagious illness? Who would have cared for her? My parents are 3,000 miles away, work full-time and take care of two elderly women (my grandmother and great aunt). I was depressed at not just my sister's and all of our vulnerability to illness, but the deficit in day care providers in this country. Shudder.