Direction

The hardest thing is when I don't know what to do.

My mom and I both knew that she won't be able to get changed into people seeing clothes, traverse her own stairs, climb into a car, get out of car, reception, sit a few hours in a hospital, climb into a car, out of the car, traverse her own stairs, back into her chair by the window. It was impossible yesterday,  impossible today, impossible tomorrow. A decision to cancel Dr. B's appointment for tomorrow.

It feels like the next step on this journey. Not being able to go out. This is new. Mom isn't well enough to mind.

Wouldn't it be utopian if doctor's all came home when people are sick? Sometimes it makes way more sense. Now. And when little kids are really sick. Or when you wonder if this is pneumonia and it's -40C and your car is frozen? I'm naive.

Previously we made decisions about what  to do that weren't this clear. Clear decisions make life so much easier. And now, it's up to Dr. B. what to do.  I remember when we first met him. Up to that point we didn't know who or how many were my mom's caregivers. There seemed to be many people involved but no one really "involved". No one person had the reins. I was trying to hold them. My mom was trying to hold them. Like that was working. We met Dr. B. and he gently, ever so gently, took the reins from both of us. And we both sat back and felt safe. As it should be. (Though my mom points direction). (A good thing she still can).