I was doing the dishes for the fourth the night in a row as my older sister, Olivia, poured the oil onto the pan on the stove to cook the chicken and rice, also for the fourth night in a row. The sink water was getting hotter and hotter as I scrubbed harder and harder the plates with the sponge that reeked of must and old food.

“When do you think she’ll get better?” I asked Olivia who was now placing the chicken and trying to dodge the olive oil that was jumping up put out of the pan.

“Catherine, I don’t know,” she responded. “It seemed like she was doing a little better today, but they checked her colonoscopy results and they still don’t know what could be causing it.”

Angry at the uncertainty of the situation, I threw down the sponge and slammed the dishwasher door closed. I wanted to know why my mom couldn’t get out of bed. I wanted to know why my mom couldn’t eat anything and keep it down. I wanted to know why I had to help my mom in and out of the bathtub. I just wanted to know why.

“Can you please tell Amelia that she has to fold the clothes that are in the dryer and match Dad’s socks?” Olivia yelled to me as I began to walk up the stairs, “and tell Will that he’s going to have to cut the grass sometime this week.”

I responded with a yes and did what I was asked to do. When I got to my room, I heard a ping and felt a vibration in my hand. Before I could even open the message, I heard three more ping ping ping.

“Do y’all want to meet at Puccinos to do some homework?” the text from my friend Mason read.

“Sure, I’m down. Even though we won’t be doing much homework. Lol. We are never productive when we’re together!” the text from my friend Sophie read. They kept sending more messages about the plans they were making, and I wanted to join in. However, I knew that I was going to have to make sure that nothing else around the house needed to be done before I did anything fun.

I sat on my bed, took off my sweaty tank top that was sticking to my skin, and flipped my tennis shoes off of my feet. I had gone on a run earlier to lower my stress levels and relieve my headache that had made my head pound and pound all day. I threw my clothes in the bin in the corner of my room. I walked to the bathroom that was across the hall and began to run a bath and felt the water to make sure the temperature was just right.

As I reached for the cabinet to grab a towel, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My hair was getting thinner and thinner. Every morning, a new nice, red blemish decided to show up on my face. The bags under my eyes were getting more and more prominent, and my shoulders began to look bonier and bonier.

I wished my body wasn’t so weak when it came to handling stress. I wished that I could be strong and look strong. I wanted to be a rock and a stable shoulder to cry on for my mom who was having trouble even standing up at all.

I finished my bath and stepped out of the tub, and I got water all over the floor. I brushed my hair and even more strands came out today compared to yesterday. I left the bathroom, letting out loads of steam behind me, and got dressed in my room. Hoping to join my friends at the coffee shop, I went to my mom’s room to ask if I could go.

“Hey mom, how ya feeling?” I asked as I opened the door to her dark room with the only source of light being the slightly opened curtains hanging from the windows only to realize she was sound asleep. “Momma,” I rubbed her back to wake her up. “Did you eat anything today?”

She flipped over and opened her eyes. Her face was so pale and her cheeks were getting so hollow. Yet, despite the pain I knew she was enduring, she looked up at me and smiled.

“Oh I’m feeling a little better” she scooted over and patted the part of the bed next to her, “Come lay down with me and tell me about your day.”

I told my mom about my busy day. I told her about the chemistry test I had taken that morning that I knew I had aced. I told her about how sore my stomach was from laughing so hard at lunch with my friends that day. I told her about how I started learning about World War II in history class that day and how my heart broke when learning about the number of lives that were lost.

“I’m so glad your day went well Catherine Rosie,” she forced a smile on her face.

I smiled back at her, trying to hold back the tears. I’ve never seen my mother like this. I’ve never witnessed her so weak. There was never a time where she physically couldn’t do the laundry. Where she physically could not cook dinner. Where she physically could not clean the dishes.

A couple of days later, on a Tuesday afternoon in May, my parents came home from the doctor’s office with some results and conclusions about my mother’s sickness. My mom still looked so pale and weak, but there was a different look on her face today. My dad helped her to the couch, and all three of my siblings and I came from the several rooms in the house to meet in the living room.

“Everything will be alright,” my dad told us, “we know what it is, finally.”

“I’m not going to die,” my mom said first, addressing the elephant in the room, “the doctors said that I have Crohn's Disease.”

Crohn’s Disease. So that was the enemy that my mom has been fighting for weeks now. This is what was slowly taking my mom away from me.

“What’s that?” my little sister, Amelia, asked so bluntly. Her words were like sharp blades that sliced through the air. But she was just as curious as the rest of us.

“It’s a chronic inflammatory disease that will affect her whole digestive system” my dad explained. It so nice to finally see my dad so sure of something again. For the last couple of weeks, he tried but failed to look certain about anything. Finally, my dad seemed like the know-it-all that he’s always been.

My parents went on to explain that now that the doctor’s had the answers they were searching long and hard for, my mom could start on the medicine that was going to help her. Although the disease has no cure, my mom said she is going to do everything in her power to reduce the symptoms and eradicate stress.

“It’s up to y’all to know when mom is getting sick again and to help out as much as possible around the house,” my dad said, “if we all have faith and work together, we can get through this.”

Suddenly, the room seemed a little brighter as the sunlight shone through the blinds in the living room and landed across my mom’s face. My brother began to rub my back and I saw a small smile form on my little sister’s face. All that was left for me to do was to take care of my mom and let God do the rest.