So this past week, I saw my mom for the first time in 10 months. Longest absence ever. Also hard because she's been through some shit since I was last in Ohio, and she could barely get around. Even with a walker. Making this even worse was the less than perfect weather in Ohio and Pittsburgh. Let's see, if "perfect weather" is blinding sunshine and a warm tropical breeze, I suppose "less than perfect" is a bit of an understatement. Snow. Ice. Cold. You know the drill.

So not only can mom hardly walk, but I have to fret that she's going to wipe out again on a rogue patch of ice.

She was also in pain, on and off. It is really difficult to watch your mom cringe and moan, while the only thing you can do is hover and ask how you can help make it go away, but all you can do is... well, nothing. There was nothing I could do, but play computer Family Feud and Wheel of Fortune when she was feeling well enough. So we did a lot of that. Saturday morning, I had fun telling people I was tired because my MOM kept me up till 4:30 playing video games.

There's another crappy thing about having a sick-and-injured mommy. Even when she was laid up with chemo, she was never this helpless. She can't even get a glass of water, because she can't carry it and use the walker at the same time. The fact that my dad and sisters have been waiting on her hand and foot for a while now has caused some strain. I'm not going to go into details, because I don't want to paint my mom as a lazy bum or the rest of the family as insensitive jerks, but trust me, they aren't. It's just difficult to have to do everything for someone for a long time, and I understand that. It's also difficult to be relentlessly dependent on people who are tired of waiting on you. The strain it caused, and the frustrated comments the situation triggered, continually made me sad during the visit.

Then again, I'd just entered the situation with a fresh supply of patience. I know better than to judge, and that's not what I'm doing. It was just hard to be around.

Every night we were in Pittsburgh, I split a Vitamin E gelcap and squeezed it onto mom's scar. God, that's a nasty scar. From above her knee almost all the way to her ankle. Like a thin, pale red snake embedded itself in the flesh of her leg. And the whole mess is surrounded by the biggest, sorest-looking bruise I've ever seen. It looks like a tender black storm-cloud, brewing beneath the skin of her leg.

I can't even imagine.

I'm feeling guilty, because I'm thinking about how I didn't want to touch it. I held the capsule above the scar and pinched the liquid out, keeping my distance. Of course, the area was incredibly tender, and that gave me a good excuse to avoid contact. But the truth is... it scared me. That scar repulsed me. It looked like if you poked the incision mark, it would give just a little, and your finger would sink into her skin. Fleshy and slippery.

I'm not certain, but I'm pretty sure it's a horrible thing to be repulsed by your own mother. Especially in reference to something over which she has zero control, and would have avoided altogether if she'd had the choice.

OK, I just re-read this, and it sounds like I had a horrible visit.

That isn't true. My entire family, with the exception of my sister Mollie, have been chomped by the Harry Potter bug. I am undefeated at Harry Potter trivia. There were dozens of great talks and hugs and laughs. Everything a visit should be, with bonuses here and there. We gabbed and sang and danced, and I loved it all. I miss my family.

There were just some things that were hard to see and hear.