Apparently, Life Did Not Receive My Itinerary

Yesterday, I once again turned into someone I don’t like very much.

Not dramatically. Not in a yelling at everyone in the room kind of way. More like that tight, impatient, irritated version of myself that shows up when I’m tired, overextended, and one more thing lands on top of the already-too-much pile.

As I was driving my Mom, five hours into the urgent care crisis, a thought occurred to me. I didn’t have to keep being that person. I could choose to be someone I actually like.

What a concept!!
Also… not easy.

A little background. My mom is 91, almost 92, and her health is starting to shift in a way that feels bigger, faster, and more demanding than it used to. She is still mentally present, which I know is a gift. I know I’m lucky she is still here. I know time with her is limited. And yes, I love her very much.

All of that is true.

Also true? The crises are exhausting.

The appointments, the ER visits, the finances, the doctor calls, the follow-ups, the “can you just help me with this one thing” that turns into seven things. I live two hours away, so when I go visit, I usually stay for a week and arrive with a plan in my head. I’ll do this errand, take her to that appointment, handle those papers, get the groceries, and maybe even have one quiet cup of coffee.

Ha.

Apparently, life did not receive my itinerary.

It often feels like my mom saves up the crises for when I get there. Even my brother and sister-in-law, who live in the same town as her, have noticed it. And when something comes out of left field, I get angry. Not because I don’t love her. Not because I don’t care. Not because I don’t understand that she’s aging and scared and dealing with a body that is becoming less reliable.

I get angry because I’m tired. I get angry because I had a plan. I get angry because I wanted one visit where nothing extra happened. Just one month without a new medical issue. One doctor visit that didn’t become an all-day affair. One simple thing that stayed simple.

Apparently not.

This is where I had to get honest with myself. She is not going to become easier to care for. Her health challenges are probably not going to get smaller. The appointments are not going to magically become quick and breezy. The unexpected stuff is not going to stop being unexpected just because I would really, really appreciate a break.

So the question becomes: how do I stop becoming the impatient, angry version of myself?

Not perfectly. Not forever. But at least more often.

How do I walk into these visits without setting myself up to be furious when they don’t go the way I imagined?

Maybe the answer is expectations. Maybe instead of expecting a doctor visit to take an hour, I expect it to take the whole day. Maybe instead of thinking, “I’ll get all this done and then I’ll have time,” I begin with, “This may be the thing I do today.” Maybe instead of treating every interruption like it is ruining the day, I remember that this is the plan now.

Being here. Helping her. Handling what comes up. Breathing through the parts that make me want to snap.

Boring but true.

Yesterday, once I finally caught myself, I tried to soften. Not into some saintly version of myself — let’s not get carried away — but into a more present one. I reminded myself that her time is limited.

Someday, I'll miss those texts telling me she has diarrhea.

And honestly, if that isn’t love, I don’t know what is.