"Yo mom, how YOU doin'?"

I am lucky as a caretaker in the sense that my mom can be her own caretaker much of the time. While I like to be with her most of the time, some of the time, I need time for myself. So does she.

This wasn't easy to come to terms with. For the first few weeks when she was home from surgery we paid a 'sitter' to stay with her while I was at work. She may have needed it... for a few days. Mom told me it was not necessary. I thought it was. I also thought it was necessary for me to check on her every move.

Every time she flexed a muscle I would ask, "Where are you going?" "Need anything?" "What can I get you?" Mind you, she moves around a lot.

I had my eagle eye on her. There would be no slips, no falls. Not on my watch. I was the sergeant of safety, the CIA of mom's every move, the Barney Fife of home healthcare. Poor mom.

I didn't count, but I can guess I asked her, "How ya' doing?" "What ya' doing?" "Where ya' going?" dozens of times a day. How annoying for her.

She would always answer me, "To pee." "Get something to eat." "Blow my nose." "Change my (colostomy) bag."

I realized that all of this vulturesque behavior was probably not necessary after she sat me down and told me that very directly. About 13 times. I also got a clue that the home healthcare aide didn't need to be there on a regular basis because mom was making the aide breakfast. It may have helped that the Hospice social worker and other former caretakers told me I could leave her at times, health permitting. Mom is OK, much of the time.

Things have changed. We got her LifeAlert, which is like a 9-1-1 button around her neck. But of course, with my twisted mind, when she falls and can't get up I worry the button will be wedged someplace like under her back, just out of reach. I know, that probably won't happen. The more likely scenario is the cat will set it off laying on her stomach.

I have been home (to my house) just three times. I live about an hour away in the mountains. However, I did spend the weekend in Kernville for Whiskey Flat Days. Our close friends Robert and Randy physically checked on her, as I did verbally with frequent phone calls. I needed that time away. She needed the time away from me. But I did still feel guilty.

Mom started eating solid food again yesterday, and was getting along just splendid. So, I planned to head for the hills today. My hills, my home. I was excited about seeing my house, my dogs, my real bed. Then I got home (mom's home) after work. Mom is having a small episode. She was vomiting and is nauseated. She was laying in bed when she told me this. There was a cat sitting directly on her stomach.

"Maybe the cat is making your tummy hurt," I said.

No, she said, that wasn't it.

There will be no frolicking in the hills for me, at least for today. I'm OK with that. My house isn't going anywhere. But my mom is. So tonight, I will be here.