What i learned caring for my mom during our 13-day power outage

I also wisely reached out for help because I knew my own brain and emotions were frazzled by the outage. So, when Mom began doubling over in pain, I called our next-door neighbors, both

nurses, to check on Mom before we went to the ER. They not only explained why it was necessary, but helped us determine which hospital to visit and checked wait times. They also assisted us

in packing a quick overnight bag with pjs, medicines and toiletries in case Mom needed to be admitted. We were also lucky that she had enough of her medication on hand, and that we were able

to get the pain medication she needed after the first visit. All CVS stores, for instance, were out of narcotics, and other pharmacies were low on, or out of, insulin, according to a list

the discharge nurse provided us.  BUT I OUTSOURCE TOO MUCH EMOTIONAL SUPPORT TO OTHERS. As with so many mothers and daughters, ours is a loving but at times fraught relationship. Mom’s

struggles with depression make her hard to engage with, especially because even at her best she’s not someone who seeks out fun. She’s not much for jokes; she’s never liked word or board

games. A perfectionist with OCD, she’s always got a critical eye on everything. And when she’s upset, it’s hard to bear the brunt of her anger. (Especially when she has a point.)  I’ve

therefore allowed everyone from pundits on streaming services to family members and friends to keep her company. But during the power outage, those voices were mostly silenced. Thanks to our

neighbors, who would charge our devices daily using their generator, and our cell service, Mom could still talk to people when her insomnia kept her up at night. However, she would emerge

from the bedroom each morning worked up about something. One day, she showed me pages of calculations in her notebook and insisted I help her track every penny of her retirement portfolio,

convinced she had lost thousands of dollars and determined to fire her longtime financial advisor. It took half the day (and used up both battery life and my cell phone’s personal

hotspot),but I’m glad I did it. Not only was she reassured afterwards, but it was also a powerful reminder that she worries not for her financial future — but for mine. The storm also gave

me more time — or, rather, less online distraction — to just sit with her. Listen as she complained of her pain or wondered why we still didn’t have power. And most importantly, just hug her

more and tell her I love her. Give her full, undivided attention and share a bit more of my day. Since power has returned, I’ve been working nonstop, reporting on the storm. But I am still

trying to spend more one-on-one time with her throughout the day, even if it is just for a few minutes at a clip. I (MOSTLY) DID WELL TO GET HER OUT OF THE HOUSE. Without the internet or

television, Mom had no context for the true destruction Hurricane Helene had wrought. So, I drove her and my stepfather out of the neighborhood — friendly neighbors had chopped up the giant

tree that fell across the road at the bottom of our mountain, so it was passable — and showed her the lines of cars for gas, the chunk of a road that the water had swept away, the downed

trees and power lines.