I woke up to the whirring of the fax machine this morning and the thought, "Why is someone sending me a fax this early?" I didn't know exactly how early it was, especially after I checked the clock by the bed and it said it was 5:15 pm. I knew better than that, but I got up anyway. All the other clocks in the house were blinking different times, but my watch said it was 8:21 am.

And no one was faxing me anything. It was just the machine resetting itself after the power outage.

It didn't make any sense to go back to bed, so I showered and dressed and was just about to phone Mom when she called me. Before she could tell me she was feeling a little better, I offered to come over right away, and to bring her anything she needed. She said she had what she needed, which was her bed, her walker and her medication.

By the time I showed up at her house she'd already fixed herself breakfast. Her neighbor had brought in the morning paper, and she was watching a nature show on the TV by her bed. She didn't seem to need me to help her rest, so I left her to it and went on about my morning errands.

Later on, after the ballgame, I went back and stayed with her for a couple of hours. She had some minor things around the house that I could help her out with, and that made me feel better. (This is about me, right?) She doesn't take the pain pills often, and when she does she only takes half of the dose in the instructions on the bottle.

She was feeling well enough to shuffle out of the bedroom and sit at the dining table for a little while. That's her usual spot in the house, where she makes her phone calls and does her paperwork. She was definitely moving better than yesterday, when every movement was so obviously painful. It was good to see her in her chair, almost as if nothing had happened.

Now she knows that it only really hurts when she twists that leg, and she's finding ways of compensating so that she doesn't have to bend and stretch the affected area any more than necessary. It's amazing the accommodations we can make for ourselves when we have a strong enough motivation.

I'm impressed with how far along she's come in just a day. She has so many plans for trips and outings in September, and I think she'll be able to go on most of them. She won't even have to go back to the doctor for this muscle pull unless she's not feeling better in a week.

Obviously, if she's this much better in a day, she'll be dancing in the aisles when we go see Mamma Mia next weekend.

I don't begrudge Mom one second of my time when she needs me. I don't resent any of this, and in fact I cherish the chance to be of use for once. I'm so grateful I was available and able to do what needed to be done in a crisis. That's not patting myself on the back at all. It's a heartfelt sentiment.

But all this trauma and all these changes in routine have thrown me off somehow. My stomach is totally at sea, my head is spinning, and I feel on edge constantly. I'm just not used to being at the eye of the cyclone, and it's having a physical effect on me.

I'll get over it, and all will be well, but it's a weird feeling, as if I've lost control of my life. I usually know what's going to happen next, but if you can't step on a curb without having your life turned upside down, who knows what other realities you can no longer believe in.