Here, let me fix that for you...

Sometimes I'm an over-aider. Being a caregiver means being constantly aware of what needs to be done, what might need to be done, and what could have been done better. So I listen closely for the sound of Mom's walker, signaling that I should pop out of bed to help her to the bathroom. Or, if we're watching TV and she rearranges herself in her chair, I jump up to "help". And when I'm leaving for work, if I notice that her covers are slipping or her pillow seems to be in the "wrong" place (it's under her head, shouldn't that suffice?), I try to make adjustments without disturbing her. Invariably, of course, when I shift her covers she wakes up and says, "What are you doing? What's going on?"
"I was just rearranging things so you'd be warmer."
"Oh, thanks, but I was fine. Now the sheets are cold. . . but thanks."
"Would you like me to fix your pillow?"
"What's wrong with it?"
"Nothing, really, but it's not the way you usually like it so I just thought I'd . . ." and I gently lift her head so I can slide the pillow out and reposition it so it's not under her shoulders and she's lying on the bottom corner, not the center, and facing away from the bulk of the pillow, not into it "Oh! Thanks, you're right. That is better."

Recently I've been trying to let things be, to let her do what she's able to do without my interference. We share a very large bedroom that is arranged so that her bed is within a few feet of the bathroom and her favorite chair is directly across from her bed. That seems to be the "magic triangle" that makes her life manageable. When I hear her with her walker in the middle of the night and hear the tiny crash as she bumps into the bi-fold doors that lead into the bathroom, I remind myself that she's done this hundreds of times and will probably manage just fine without me. Once I sense that she's back in bed, I peek around the corner to reassure myself that she's under the covers and not sitting awkwardly half off the bed, trying to pull her robe around her for warmth, the way I found her once a week or two ago.

We have a recurring conversation nearly every evening. "Where do I sleep?" she asks. I point to her bed. "Oh, that makes sense, . . well, I think I'm ready to hit the sack." (My dad was a Marine. We also "make a head run" instead of going to the bathroom and there was a time when it wasn't unusual for us to stand up when the Marine's Hymn came on the radio or TV.)

Mom manages to get up on her own during the day, while I'm at work and before Linda arrives, but when I'm at home I can't sit on the couch watching her struggle with her walker as she tries to lift herself out of her chair or off of the bed. "I need a hand," she says. So I give her a boost and point her in the direction of the bathroom. I know to allow fifteen to twenty minutes (or more) before she's ready to come out, walker clanging, wondering where I am, where the bed is, what time it is, who does that cat belong to, where are we, is it time for bed?

And so it goes. Each situation calls for a quick decision--do I give her a helping hand? allow her to struggle a bit with something she can usually do? encourage her to carry on when she can? or jump in and take charge, if only to make myself feel better?

The one thing I know for certain is that she will thank me for my help, whether she needed it or not.