I saw this cactus covered with these most marvelous bright red blossoms as I pulled into the casita where I am staying in Tucson.

I’ve been anticipating the cactus bloom since I arrived; I was beginning to think I would miss out on the spring blossoms. So when I noticed these cactus plants in bloom this afternoon, it brought a smile to my face.

Now, I admit I haven’t spent much of today smiling. It’s been a rough day. My mom, who will be celebrating her 86th birthday next week, was rushed to the hospital yesterday evening with a mechanical defibrillator problem. Repair surgery was scheduled for today, and then postponed. It was decided the small city hospital she was in could not do the surgery, so a transfer to a larger hospital 100 miles away was initiated.

Today was a day filled with phone calls to and from my husband — he was trying to manage the medical issues from Wisconsin, to the nursing staff and cardiologists, and to family members. Due to some complications with travel, and the immediacy of the surgery, it was decided that I would remain in Arizona. Sherpa headed to my family’s hometown to manage the hospital routine.

Now surgery is scheduled for Monday morning, wehave figured out our schedules, and everyone is resting comfortably.

And I am in Arizona.

I thought I would be okay with the decision. After all, the surgery is a minor repair, and my mother plans to return to her home after a few days in the hospital. But by the fourteenth phone conversation of the day, I was worn out with worry, confused by the multiple changes in plans, and on the verge of a panic attack. I knew I had to calm myself.

I kept thinking of those cactus flowers just down the road. I had wanted to photograph them just before sunset. The sun was setting. I only had a few minutes to gather my camera gear and check out the flowers. But here I was, crying like a baby, gasping for my next breath.

But I was determined to photograph those flowers in the waning light. And I wanted to get myself back in control too. So I stuffed Kleenex in one pocket and a filter in my other pocket, and I grabbed my camera and tripod. I’d like to tell you that I wiped my eyes and then calmly took these  photos. Not true, though. No, I couldn’t quite quit crying and sniffing, but I finally managed to set up my camera and tripod.

For the first few shots, I couldn’t focus because of my tears. But I really wanted the chance to capture the beauty of these flowers more than I wanted to keep on crying and feeling panicky.

I took some deep breaths. I wiped my eyes dry. I took more photos.

Then I noticed my surroundings. I watched the last of the sunlight cast light and shadows on the Santa Rita Mountains. I watched a cactus wren do some maintenance work on her nest. I watched two striking black and yellow butterflies dance around the ocotillo blooms. I took many more deep breaths and calmed down.

Later I made a more calls to check on things. My mom is stable and is good hands in the cardiac care unit. All is okay–both in the Midwest and here in Arizona.

In eleven days, Sherpa will fly out and we’ll pack the car, turn it a little east and a little north, and drive home. We’ll make a stop on the way to visit my mother.

I’m not too accustomed to handling family medical emergencies alone. I’m sure not used to being 1800 miles away, but today, even though it was a complicated decision, it seems to be the right decision. Right now we are all calmly waiting for the next step.

Today I learned more about living solo in Arizona than I’d bargained for, but all is going well.