The Case of the Stairs

Here's a fun thing, for all those rumour mongers who love to proclaim that I'm nuts. I am not crazy, by the way, I am in fact the most sane member of my illustrious family, and definitely the most stable. All I have is a few little eccentricities, all of which I am aware of, and this is one of them, which is starting to become quite a major one.
See, it all started around around end of class eight, when Ma got tuberculosis. Now, if any of you don't know, TB is one of the most horrid diseases to pick up, it practically disables you from an active life, without doing any serious damage whatsoever, you just become too tired to do anything constructive, and the medicines that take care of this actually only succeed in increasing your symptoms. It's not a very fun time at all, and I wouldn't wish it upon anyone. If anyone wants to go into medical research, chuck cancer and miracle cures for AIDS, take care of TB first.
I've developed digression into an art form, haven't I?
Anyhow, so as Ma was sick, and Papa was really busy with work around that time, and Bua had a hospital to Run, and my Grandmother was also very very sick, I was pretty much taking care of both of them for that time. This was made significantly tougher by Ma's stubborn refusal to have any of her gazillion knock-out pills, and quite frankly, in the same position, neither would I. They're horrid, and make you feel really bad, and don't seem to have any significant effect at all.
Anyhow, she eventually did have to have the stuff, cos we all forced her too, and it left her feeling quite knocked out most of the time. So, for a period of around a year, I had grown used to escorting her up and down the stairs of our house.
Now, habits once formed, die very hard, especially when you have slight obsessive complusive tendancies. So two years after Ma's all better, whenever she's at ground floor, and I'm going up, I sort of coerce her into going up the stairs with me. Now, this isn't a bad thing at all for anyone else but my mother, but things are now starting to get worse. I've noticed this in school, and other places, that whenver a staircase presents itself, and company is there along with me at the bottom/top of it, I feel an uncontrollable urge to take company either up or down with me.
This, then, has become a problem for poor unfortunates. I now have a paranoid compulsion to include people in my sojourns up and down the F-Block staircase, and while for the better part, company is willing, occasionally are quite reluctant, and must be forced.
At the end of the day, it's comforting to know that for even this matter, come what may, in the end it is my mother's fault.