This Crazy Life

We are currently at a holding spot.  She’s stable.  From a medical perspective.  From every other perspective she is not.  She’s living on Perfect bars, but she’s happy.  She went mini golfing the other day.  This is the first thing out of her room she’s done in a long time other than doctor apts and grocery shopping.  She was able to do it because everyone else was gone too.  She’s currently upset with me because we’ve been talking about family vacation plans and going to the lake.  Without her.  Which I guess I should try to include her more.  But when you can’t even begin to think how it could possibly work it’s hard.  Things aren’t supposed to be this hard.  And maybe her wanting to do things will help motivate change.  Or her being willing to try some additional therapy and support.  I plan on talking to her OCD therapist about this next week.  She can’t ride in a car with anyone.  Her food can’t be left unattended around anyone.  She can’t sit on any furniture anyone else might have sat on or eaten on.  But she’s going to go to the lake with us.  To a house.  Where her sisters will be.  With one refrigerator.  Without a lock.  What’s she going to do with her food?  Where is she going to sit?  Is she going to stand for hours?  I plan on asking her all these things when we go shopping tomorrow to replace perfect bars (yes, that’s still all she’s eating going on almost 2 months now, but that also means we’ve been out of the hospital for almost 2 months!) that were “coated in oil”.  Maybe we didn’t do it, but someone at the manufacturer did.  This is the part where I almost think it’s the hardest.  She’s well enough to want to do things, but nowhere near well enough to actually do things.  And I really just want to hug her.  That’s my wish for Mother’s Day.  A hug.  I couldn’t even tell you the last time I got one from her.  It was before all this last round of hospital stays started.