Nobody calls you a caregiver. They call you la hija mayor. You never applied for this. You got the job the day you were born first. Translating at citas since you were nine. Managing mami's pastillas. And when someone asks who takes care of your parents you say nobody, somos familia. That's why you don't count yourself. Y por eso nadie te cuenta. Pero mira, the numbers already counted you. 63 million adults doing unpaid care work in this country right now. And 43% of Latino caregivers are raising a kid under 18 at the same time. The sandwich generation, they call it. Tú eres el jamón. Squished between mami's diabetes and the parent-teacher conference, feeding everybody but you. And somos familia is costing you like $7,200 a year. De tu bolsillo. No invoice, no reimbursement, ni un gracias. Meanwhile your own labs? Unordered. Your mammogram? Rescheduled por tercera vez because Tuesday is her cardiólogo. Y aquí entre nos: you know her A1C by heart. You don't know your own blood pressure. Eso no es devoción, amiga. So book your cita this week. Before hers. Not after, before. Your appointments go on the calendar con la misma permanencia que las de todos los demás. Porque no puedes llevar a mami a dialysis from a hospital bed. La hija mayor is not a diagnosis you have to accept untreated. Te elijo. Ahora tú.