Puerto Rican Hospital Twice Removed

I had in fact seen it coming, and tossed and turned the night before vacation, when Brad finally asked what the hell was the matter with me. "Why are we taking my mom to Puerto Rico again? She's prone to panic attacks, has to pee every 5 minutes and needs constant direction!" I worried. Brad laughed "oh yeah" he said remembering our last vacation 2 years earlier in the Gulf Shores- "good call" he said and rolled over to sleep. Why should he care? My mother only makes him neurotic when she makes me neurotic, and although usually guaranteed by the time she and I part ways, I actually believe that I have the patience of a Saint with her. Speaking of saints, her ultimate goal is to be canonized- which is in fact possible. She is the most giving, selfless, and caring person I have ever met. She's the type of person that would build churches in Jamaica, volunteer in the orphanages of Lithuania, travel dirt roads on the backs of donkeys through war torn countries to visit the Dali Lama, and to kiss the hand of Mother Teresa of Calcutta in the ghetto's of India- oh...yeah- I mean she is that person. Did I mention she was in the convent when she met my Father? Yes, she was actually a nun, and went through five years of discernment before finally opting for a more primal love- but I actually know for a fact that at this time, my father was truly the most challenging case of despair I think she had ever come across and she has always been up for a good challenge. So how, you might wonder is a woman so accomplished in fulfilling the needs of others so needy herself? Welcome to the Gemini paradox that is my mother. Her Sisters and brothers took care of her growing up, The convent took care of her when she was in her twenties, My Father took care of her until he died, and the community and church has been taking care of her since. Oh, I mean...I have been overseeing the community and church taking care of her....ahhhh, the cross I bear. We did take my mother to Puerto Rico...just as we had taken her with us to the Gulf Shores 2 years ago, and the same thing happened....panic attacks, tears, spending endless hours pacing up and down the beach and in and out of the house watching over her and my two small children. Puerto Rico...a new set of challenges which was a language barrier, heart palpitations, dry mouth, nausea, and the emergency room. I spent the last day of our vacation trying to convince the doctor that she would and could go home on a plane with me...we just needed Valium and a priest that speaks English.