It Never Seems to get Better

For me, writing is an outlet, a venting of sorts. Not really working well, given as the stress doesn't seem to go down, least not that I am noticing.

Today was the weekly weigh in for Mom. In some ways, wish I had her problem, of losing, but for her, not good. So last week she gained a half pound, this week, lost a pound.

She's eating well, even back to having something at lunch, but she lost a pound. Now I don't know, but seems to me that she has to be either pooping too much now, and not, somehow, knowing it, or there is something more serious happening.

Problem is, the Doctor is aware of her rapid weight loss, ordered blood work, and so far, not a peep out of him. And in the meantime, I keep struggling forward, trying to keep cool, trying to keep on top of things. I don't know who to listen to, or not.

She's on laxatives, 2 a night, but I cut that down to 1 a night for 2 nights, then nothing. And yet, if she is plugged, it is a risk. I can't follow her into the bathroom, and can only sneak around. If she hasn't flushed, I can see, or by my sense of smell, but is it poop or gas?

This is tough, and I know, it isn't going to get easier. I don't even know how I can handle this, or even continue. I have to, but still, my guts are in knots, and now I am resorting to laxatives, not every night, but after a few days, sometimes. I know it is stress, but how do you relieve it, how do you stop your mind from thinking the worse, imagining the worse, hoping for the best, yet knowing it won't be?

I can't crawl under the covers, I want to, but I can't. Yet I can't face this each and every day for hour on end. I wonder, how does this all fit?