I received a call from my sister last Friday night as I was heading out to have dinner with friends. She told me that she was on her way to the hospital in Denver, and that she had just called an ambulance for my mother who was found unresponsive at home. Naturally, feelings of sadness, helplessness and frustration poured over me.

This call was one that I have come to dread and, at times, even to expect. Last March my mom was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She has a trach to help her get oxygen into her lungs, as she has underlying chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, scar tissue from prior lung infections, and lives a mile high in Denver, where it's quite common to see folks walking around with oxygen tanks. The prior week my mom didn't seem her usual energetic and feisty self. I was concerned and talked to my family about it, but there was very little I could do. Over the past year, I've traveled back and forth to Denver very frequently -- often putting out fires and trying to get my parents on a routine that's more stable and healthy. The period of calm or healthy new routine would last for about a week after I returned home to D.C. and then usually something awful would happen, like a fall or mistake in medication, which would require another hospitalization.

I have been trying to get my parents additional nursing assistance in their home, as my dad -- who has been vigilantly caring for my mother -- has diabetes and a heart condition. My parents have been a team for over 56 years: my mom cares for my dad and vice versa. They are both incredibly independent and love their privacy and routines. I have often been asked to just be ' a daughter' and not ' a doctor' when I go back to visit, but I can't do it. Medicine is just wired into my DNA at this point. It's so hard to try to overlook dangers that I see lurking everywhere -- slippery bathrooms, dust that causes breathing problems, unhealthy meals, medications covering countertops (some quite outdated), and narrow hallways that can trap oxygen chords and cause falls. The list could go on. Yet, this has been their home for almost 40 years and is their place of peace and security.

I have wanted home assistance if they would not move to assisted living, but that had been vetoed as well for various reason. I've tried to learn how to 'let go' and let my parents live the life that they choose...even if would not be my path. Perhaps the lesson in all of this is that we can still love and care, but know that we each have to make our own decisions. It is not like a parent caring for a child, but perhaps the same love and concern are there. Everyday, I have to remind myself of that lesson. It is such a difficult one.