Balancing Act

Tomorrow Mom will have been on the new dosages of two of her meds for a week. The Phenytoin (generic for Dilantin) did not make her dizzy, for which we are very thankful. She thinks it has made her doze more during the day, but I'm not sure there is much difference. The increase in her water pill sends her to the bathroom more often, which is understandably irritating, but I am more concerned about how her kidneys are handling it. Monday we'll go in for a blood test and find out. She is still coughing a little more than is normal and the last few days she has complained about her hearing being worse. Terrible daughter that I am, I thought she was just not paying much attention to me when I talked, even if I was answering her own question to me. We'll run it by the doctor when he calls about the blood test, but in the meantime, I am concerned by it. She thinks she has had a cold for two months, but I don't think it seems like a virus and I am afraid it has more to do with her heart.

For me, this is an example of the hardest part of caregiving: the constant inner battle between worry and exasperation, concern and irritation, enjoyment and guilt, priviledge and failure. At dinner tonight, when she asked me (NOT for the first time) to please make her glass of water in the morning warm when I bring it in, I wanted to scream because I am so careful to test it every single time I get her a glass, yet she insinuates that I don't give it a thought and need to be told again. Er-r-r-rgh. Does it cool off between the kitchen and her room? Is her idea of warm different from mine? Is she assuming I do it wrong because she has forgotten? Does it get cold? But, in the next moment I see her sitting next to us at the table, trying to follow our conversation, and I can tell that she's not hearing us well enough even though she is just inches away. How could I ever get irritated over water? I love her and would do anything for her. What is the matter with me?