This Crazy Life

We’re back in the hospital.  It all got to be too much.  Keeping stuff safe was too much work.  Eating and drinking wasn’t happening and we are starting to wear her down on trying medicine.  So we’re back in my favorite, most expensive hotel, with the worst accommodations.  But she’s safe.  That’s what I keep reminding myself.  Except they are making accommodation after accommodation for her.  Because they of course want to get her to eat and drink because her body needs that to recover.  But then we just make the OCD and contamination worse.  It’s just hard.  It’s so hard.  And no one seems to know how to help.  And what to do.  And then we start talking about a higher level of care.  Which I hate that idea.  I hate it with my entire being.  But sometimes I do wonder if it would help.  And maybe give her some quality of life back.  Maybe.  Because she currently has none.  And honestly, neither do I.  So while we sit here for hospital stay number 5,367, where they are giving her sealed bottles of water because she can’t trust them to bring her in her normal water, I wait to see if we can come up with a medicine plan that can actually help, can kick in asap, and can take some stress off of her and me.