Being the Dutiful Daughter

I love my mom. I really do. And I love that I am right around the corner from my parents' house. We could walk there if we really wanted to.

What I don't love is that I am the closest child. My sister is about fifteen minutes away, so we all get together for Shabbat dinner and all other holidays, and my brother is in Conneticut (we're outside Philly), so I am the go to if there are any big problems. Which, as the middle child, I am fine with - I'm the peacemaker and the caretaker.

Unfortunately my mom has lots of health problems. She has a really bad back (degenerative disk disease) that is made worse by her weight. She has asthma and, even though she finally gave up smoking (YES!), still is very susceptible to respiratory infections. And she gets really bad vertigo every once in awhile, bad enough that she cannot move for fear of falling.

I just got a call from my mom, a "just-in-case call." She had spent a lot of the morning very short of breath, dizzy, experiencing heart palpitations, and raising her arms made it worse. She feels better now (though still short of breath some). I mentioned that maybe the fact that she has had a cold now for a few days is affecting her breathing and that she should call the doctor.

"Don't worry," she reassured me, "I have an appointment for Monday."

Great.

So when I get the next phone call where she can only gasp out my name on the phone and I call 911 and we take her to the ER, I'll be sure to explain to all the doctors there that it's all okay: she is going to see her doctor on Monday.