What I wish I knew about family caregiving early on is that the 24/7 ongoing responsibilities never let up. We do many things for our elders in the caregiving years. We rush to the hospital in the middle of the night
There is no shortage of posts written on the topic of family caregiving and self-care. You know the drill. Get a good night’s sleep. Eat right. Exercise. Stay social, and so on. These well-meaning messages may fall short of the
The headline of this blog is in all caps for a reason. I’m shouting! I’m looking forward to the day when bloggers, reporters, website developers, media representatives, and marketing professionals stop referring to the process of caring for parents in terms
Damon Brown’s post, “3 Terrible Reasons Why You Are Addicted to Busyness,” stopped me dead in my tracks. Who me--addicted to “busyness?” He explained why busyness feels like you cannot stop: Fulfils the ego - busyness becomes an acute measurement of entrepreneurial
Like many people my age, I am experiencing the deaths of close friends and beloved family members at a fast and furious rate. Sometimes the deaths come after a long and painful dying process. Other times – Poof! People die
After my father died, my sister and I were responsible for deciding what to do with his belongings and closing out his financial affairs. In addition to the zillions of caregiving hours we racked up before Dad’s death, little did
A “Help Wanted” ad to find the perfect family caregiver would read something like this: HELP WANTED Qualifications: Skilled negotiator Demonstrates precise bookkeeping and financial-planning skills Able to juggle multiple schedules and calendars Has reliable car and valid driver's license
The phone rings. It’s Mom. “See you later, Joy. I’m going out now to withdraw cash from the ATM machine.” “Wait! What?” “You heard me. I need cash and I’m heading out the door.” The ATM machine in our Chicago neighborhood is located
Are you in the middle of a major conflict with a parent who refuses to move? Part Two of this blog series describes my experiences with conversations that go nowhere, accompanied by that hopeless sinking feeling that something bad will soon
As a young child, I don’t know who had more fun on Mother’s Day – Mom or me. I recall reciting poems, drawing pictures on home-made greeting cards, and making my mother breakfast-in-bed to honor her. Nothing made me happier