I missed the point. I’m the daughter. My mum is the mum. That’s the relationship. Yes, I’m my mum’s carer now. The roles and responsibilities may have somewhat blurred. But the relationship is clear and irrevocable.

Mother’s Day was on May 9. The week leading up to it was unusually difficult for me. My tinnitus acted up with a vengeance. Frantic and incessant crumbling noises in my ear, almost 24/7. It was disruptive, and deprived me of sleep. My arthritis played up in unison. Both wrists and fingers hurt more than they normally did. I was already feeling less than happy. Then, the borders closed on May 7, effectively cancelling the one-night stay on Thursday that my husband and I had earlier reserved.

During the week I had transaction problems with my bank. The person assigned to deal with the issue made it painful and protracted. I also had a payment problem with a delivery person, who overcharged me. I sensed the amount was wrong but still paid up. Although the mistake was rectified, I was upset with myself. For the unnecessary angst and time wasted.

On Thursday, with no staycation to go to, I decided to order a gas cylinder for my mum’s home. In the morning, I rolled the old cylinder on a trolley to one of the more ‘reliable’ guards, who works at our condominium. Explained to him to hand over the cash (the balance was his tip) and old cylinder to my first-time supplier when he turned up (the supplier couldn’t offer a definite delivery time). Collect the new cylinder. Place on trolley. Leave it outside my mum’s unit. Do not enter. Do not call or bother her. Same instruction to the supplier. Collect cash and old cylinder from guard. Give guard new cylinder. Do not deliver to my mum’s unit.

‘Reliable’ guard was busy and assigned the job to another guard. I failed to consider this. The supplier texted me once delivery was made. I went to my mum’s unit. There was no gas cylinder outside the door. I couldn’t get in as she had fastened the safety latch, which she never does, from the inside. It was her nap time. So, I left to look for the ‘reliable’ guard and missing cylinder.

On the way, I met the ‘other’ guard and building manager. This ‘other’ guard informed me that he had accompanied the supplier. Knocked, many times, on my mum’s door. She opened it. The supplier took the cylinder in, and left it on the balcony.

I was livid. What happened to my instruction to leave the cylinder outside my mum’s unit? What about SOPs for visitors? This supplier/visitor makes deliveries to many homes and condominiums. How exposed is he to Covid-19? How safe is he? Answer: The SOP allows the supplier/visitor to carry the cylinder into a resident’s home, if the resident permits it. Ironically, my mum, who is hard-of-hearing, heard the knocking, and opened the door.

I went back to my mum’s unit. The safety latch was still on. I pushed and pushed the door hard in order to break the latch. I didn’t care. Emotions overrode sense and logic. I needed to know she was ok and why she had opened the front door. We have an understanding: my mum never opens the front door to anyone. She does, sometimes, when my two brothers forget to bring their assigned keys. Not helpful.

The ruckus I created woke my mum up. She unfastened the safety latch but could not remember fastening it. After sanitizing her home, I sat my mum down. I was still upset… with everybody and everything. What was the point of me cocooning her from the outside world if she willy-nilly opens the door to a stranger with a gas cylinder? My mum explained: She did because she saw the guard, and felt it should be safe. The supplier/gas man because she saw me roll out the gas cylinder that morning to be replaced. To her, the supplier/gas man was ‘helping’ me by delivering it himself. She apologised for doing the wrong thing.

I felt bad. But I agreed with my mum that she was wrong. She has my mobile on speed-dial for knocks on the front door/breakdowns/blow-outs/etc/etc/etc. That said, I felt more bad because I behaved like I was ‘the mum.’ Did I overreact? Did my sleep deprivation, ailments, a less-than-good week influence my reaction? Maybe. Maybe not.

Reality check. I’m but one of my mum’s seven children. Yes, I’m her designated carer. Yes, I care and love my mum very much. Yes, I want to protect and keep her safe. No, I cannot foresee everything or control everybody. So what to do? Just remember to be a daughter to my mum, and enjoy the relationship.