watching myself

Sometimes it helps me to stand back and watch my reactions as if I was holding a video camera.

This morning, my mom was crying because the nurse's aide didn't bring her any coffee for breakfast. Between my mom's tears, and my immediate rush of frustration at yet again hearing something that I can't do anything about, I could see that already my day was not getting off to a positive start. I asked my mom why she didn't tell the nurse's aide that she needed coffee. I mean, come on. I had to hold back on not asking this question with an edge in my voice. After all, my mom forgets things, and she doesn't need me jumping on her.

At the same time, I realized that, three days running, the home health service hasn't called me back to tell me how her pressure sore is looking, if it is healing at all.

No, not a good way to start the day. I took a mental step back and watched myself, this guy standing in the middle of his apartment trying to have a conversation with his mom, who has trouble making herself heard over the phone, and feeling the weight of the world, or at least his world, on his shoulders. I also saw a guy who is trying to do his best, but isn't in control, and can't make everything perfect.

I took a few deep breaths. No, I didn't hyperventilate. I told my mom I would ask the facility to remind the nurse's aides that she needs coffee in the morning, and gently reminded my mom that she can ask for what she needs. And I'll call the home health care service again. They are doing the best job they can do, too.