Trip Legs and Trip Knees

My sister sent me an email with the breakdowns of where our road stops might be in four-hour increments. Last night I charted three-hour legs, so I was really excited to see this layout instead.

Until I took stock of our status this morning.

Mom has had a little breakfast and her morning meds. She's now lying down and working a crossword. She will probably nod off while she's doing the puzzle. She actually looked kind of peaceful when she said she wanted to do one, unless, she said, I was in a hurry to get going. I honestly didn't have the heart or the will to say, "Look, do it in the car." Getting started on the right foot each day makes a huge difference in both our lives.

So I could try to get her all loaded up in the car (SO much easier said than done, by the way) to puzzle and nap there, while we churned out some miles, but it's not that simple. She also really wants to take a bath this morning (or some facsimilie of it) and that is going to be quite the project. Hopefully it will go off without a hitch, but it will only be if she moves at a snail's pace to avoid wobbling or falling. And if she skips a nap to try to be more efficient regarding the bath, forget it. That's a scenario I don't even wish to entertain.

Her medicine knocks her out and if she doesn't get that nap, as she often hasn't in the past few weeks, she's more disoriented and weak than usual. Those are not aggravations we can afford. She needs all her available strength to negotiate walking -- and it takes a lot of thought. She stopped for a full minute at the curb trying to figure out which foot should go first to best support her. She's already stepped off numerous curbs since she hurt her knee but she confessed (with some embarrassment) that she can't remember the formula that works each time she has to do it. So it's like starting all over again. If she picks the wrong foot, she crumples and/or winces and goes forward even more gingerly.

I told her it was okay that she had to take the extra time. I'm not sure she can believe me because she feels like she's a burden at this point. I'm hoping that she can find some enjoyment out of the day, but that surely can't happen if we're operating under tension.

On the other hand, when she came out of the bathroom this morning, she pointed at her head and said, "Look at my hair," and we both cracked up. Her bed head was most impressive! I would have snapped a photo but my phone was charging...and she might have killed me!

Having those chuckles is worth the extra time. Going three hours or four hours each day will add up to how long the trip takes overall, but I don't feel like forcing a system. So I'm going to take a few minutes to set myself, probably meditate a little, ponder all the ways I am deeply grateful mom and I can do this (even in strained conditions) and then let go of any notions of how this day could or should unfold.

It is what it is. I'd like to enjoy it.