So I got a phone call from my mom yesterday, from the ER, where she was alone, with a broken arm after a fall down the stairs in her apartment. She had called grandma to take her to there, but sent her home. At this point, little was known except that it was broke and the Dr. had called in another Dr. and I was approximately 938 miles away.

So anyways. I tracked my brother down at work, which was a trick and a little bit since the first call got me to his voicemail (after getting his voicemail on his cell, and his girl’s voicemail on her cell) so I called back again and before I got sent to his voicemail again hurriedly explained who I was and that I needed to speak to him directly because his mother was in the hospital. Ok, only a little exaggeration, but enough to get him found.

I filled him in on what little I knew and he was off, and has since been taking care of mom with her pretty badly broken arm that needs surgery to repair it, pretty extensive time off work to heal it, and lots of tlc. He’s got her situated in a pretty comfy looking corner of the couch at his new home with his girl and their family has been there for mom, thank God. I say that with more sincerity and grace than any word on a screen could ever convey.

Here’s my mom’s shoulder, that white line right underneath the nub is the break.  She’ll be getting plates and pins on Sunday morning after spending Saturday afternoon and night admitted in the hospital.

It’s been strange, in a way that I can’t explain, hearing all of what is going on, seeing photos on facebook and getting updates in email. And here I sit, approximately 938 miles away, going on with my life, when hers, and my brother and his family’s has been halted in a way that was unexpected, very unwanted and just plain sucky. It’s surreal and I feel helpless and maybe I am just feeling a little sorry for myself because I can’t do anything, and I am a doer by nature, by disaster survival, by learned habit. When things go to hell, I just naturally kick into this do or die mode and here I am, 938 miles away in do or die mode and I can’t do. It’s bizarre.

But you know what? She’s my mom too. I -should- be there too. I should be helping too. It shouldn’t all just be on my brother, and I am so, so very thankful that he is there, and that he has been there the past 10 years that I have been gone, and maybe he is thinking ‘why does she care now’ but I always have. I always have. I never didn’t not care. I just never said so. That was my ultimate mistake, but I am not the same person anymore, and there was a lot that was never said. But I am saying it now. I want to be there, I wish I could be. If I could be, I would. I know it doesn’t change anything, or make anything different, but maybe just knowing will help even a little.