This Crazy Life

I know she’s going to have bad moments.  Or even bad days.  But what is really hard is when you see her having a bad day after a bad day after a bad day.  The fear in the pit of your stomach that never actually leaves intensifies because you just feel it coming.  I don’t think we’ll make it as long at home as we did last time after the hospital stay.  I think we’ll be back.  We’ll be repeating this vicious cycle.  Smells are a big trigger right now.  She could smell us cooking food.  Even though I was in the kitchen, working, not cooking, and no one else was in the kitchen at all.  But she could smell food and it was making her gain weight.  I know smells are hard.  She has fans outside her area to keep smells pushed back up to us, but that has been enough.  We haven’t had tears and needing to wash everything and smelling phantom smells for months.  Between that and trying to tape the car doors shut which then turned into locking them and her having the keys since tape on cars doesn’t sound like a good idea, I’m concerned that her symptoms are increasing.  I hate that we are adding precautions instead of working on quitting existing ones.  I hate that she knows she can’t go back to school, even though I feel the same.  I liked that she was at least considering it.  She knows a trip anywhere away from home is hard.  I hate it hate it hate it.  And at this point my goal is to not spend Thanksgiving in the hospital.