I’m New to Caregiving. Where Do I Start?
Oh, Crap! I’m a Caregiver, Part 1: Practical first steps for caring for an aging parent or elderly loved one when you’re new to caregiving.
I was on my way home from visiting a friend. A 12-hour drive had turned into an overnight stay due to road closures. It was my mom’s idea to meet halfway between my stop and home for lunch and antique shopping.
We’d just gotten off the phone with each other. We were only about 20 minutes apart.
I almost didn’t answer the call from the unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Tina?” the strange voice asked.
“Yes, who is this?”
“My name is Christine. I’m with your parents. They were in a car accident.”
“That’s impossible,” I replied. “I just hung up with my mom.”
It hadn’t been five minutes since we hung up!
I heard some shuffling.
“Hi, honey.” I breathed a sigh of relief at the sound of my mom’s voice.
“What happened?” I asked.
“We had a little accident.”
“Are you hurt?”
“I’m okay,” she said. “Dad’s having a little trouble breathing. The doctor is with him.” Yes, the top neurosurgeon in the Pacific Northwest witnessed the accident.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“Let me give the phone back to Christine.”
More shuffling.
“Tina?”
It was Christine’s voice again. An angel I would never meet. “Where are you?”
She gave me their location.
“I’m on my way.”
I arrived just as they were loading my dad into the ambulance, so I jumped in, leaving my car on the side of the highway.
My mom had a dislocated shoulder, tiny cuts all over her body from shattered glass, and many nasty bruises.
My dad’s skull was broken, and the roof of the car had shredded the top of his head. They’d rolled four times. He had two broken bones in his neck, spinal cord trauma, and a traumatic brain injury.
That’s the day I became a caregiver.
No one labeled my new role. It just happened.
I had no idea what I was doing.
It’s been 20 years since that day. I’m still a caregiver, and I still have days when I don’t know what I’m doing. But I’ve also learned some things along the way. That’s why I started Dad Lives with Me—because whether you just became a caregiver today or you’ve been doing it for a while, it’s nice to have some help.
Caregiving Can Be Planned or Unplanned
I had some caregiving experience with my grandparents, but I did not plan on becoming a caregiver. Not when my parents were in their car accident, and not when my mom was unexpectedly diagnosed with terminal cancer.
Unplanned caregiving might begin with:
A life-changing diagnosis or accident.
An injury.
When one spouse passes away, and the surviving spouse doesn’t know how to live alone.
When you discover that an elderly loved one isn’t doing as well alone as everyone thought.
A hospital stay didn’t end as planned when the doctor asked, “Who will be caring for your Mom?”
A financial crisis.
Honestly, “unexpected” caregiving happens often, but sometimes, you can see it coming. It’s almost like life moves in slow motion for a while as you wonder when that day will come. You know it’s coming, but you don’t know when.
Planned caregiving might begin with:
A new diagnosis that is manageable until it isn’t.
Gradual mobility changes.
“Just checking in” becomes a daily routine.
You just have that gut feeling that someday…
Or maybe you’re already a caregiver—you’re just not calling it that. If you’re managing some part of your elderly loved one’s care regularly, you’re a caregiver.
It might look like:
Managing their daily medications, refill orders, and pharmacy runs.
Making and keeping track of their appointments and attending with them
Preparing meals, overseeing grocery shopping, or managing dietary needs.
Paying their bills and managing their finances.
Providing regular emotional support and social interaction.
Cleaning their home either by doing what they didn’t notice or forgot to do, or taking over completely because they can’t.
Maybe you’re just doing one thing right now, but if that’s so, it isn’t likely to be temporary or stop there. You’ll be doing most or all of those things at some point.
So if you’ve been thinking, or are thinking now, “Oh crap! I’m a caregiver,” take a breath.
Just because you feel this way doesn’t mean you don’t love your parent or grandparent—whoever you’re caring for. It means you’re human.
Caregiving is challenging, no matter how much you love the person you’re caring for or how much you want to help.
But caregiving doesn’t have to:
Take over your life
Overwhelm you
Cause you to lose yourself
Steal all your rest
Whether you planned to be a caregiver or you were suddenly thrust into this new role, this series aims to help.
Let’s start with an overview of the series.
If I gave you everything today, you’d be overwhelmed. It would take too long to read through it all, and the details would get muddled.
Over the next ten weeks, I’ll walk you through a crash course on caregiving for an aging parent or elderly loved one.
You might be thinking, “I don’t have ten weeks. I need to know now!” And I get that. Believe me, I understand, and I empathize.
But just like so many things you do, roles you take on, or jobs you’ve had, you didn’t learn how to do them in one day.
It’s a lot.
So for now, let’s start with first things first—just the basics.
Start with step one.
Step One: What Do I Know Now, and What Do I Need First?
Goal: reduce risk, stop the panic spiral, and gather essentials.
Ask yourself these questions:
1. What is the diagnosis, injury, or observation? In other words, why are you searching for information about caregiving?
2. What has recently happened to your elderly loved one, or what has led you to believe that they can no longer care for themselves alone?
3. What’s the next thing that could go sideways if I do nothing?
Maybe the answers are obvious. Dad had a stroke, and the doctor said he can no longer live alone. Mom’s diabetes is out of control because she doesn’t understand the need to manage her diet. Grandpa is showing the early signs of dementia, but the doctor said he’s progressing quickly. Grandma keeps falling and is no longer safe living alone.
Or maybe the answers are not obvious. It’s more of a gut feeling. You just know something needs to change or will need to change soon.
This week is about gathering the essential information—things that will help move you forward. Information is empowering. It keeps you from feeling completely helpless.
Medical information: just the basics like diagnoses, doctors, and specialists, medications, and allergies.
Functional information: what they can do, what they need help with, and mobility limitations.
Daily information: diet necessities and restrictions, hydration needs, sleep issues, and communication needs/devices.
Safety information: immediate home risks, emergency contacts, and red flags.
Perfection is Not the Goal
Caregivers can prevent burnout by separating necessary support from unnecessary takeover.
People will offer opinions, recommendations, and suggestions. Sometimes they will be helpful. Sometimes you’ll want to tell them what they can do with their ideas. They’ll praise and question you in the same conversation.
But remember this: Perfection is not the goal because perfection isn’t possible.
You do what you can, when you can, how you can. Be realistic about what you need to do and what you can do. I wish someone had shared with me what caregiving is not when I first started.
Caregiving is not:
Becoming a personal chef. You don’t need to cook every meal from scratch. Sometimes, it’s okay to get takeout, cook frozen dinners, or make a quick tuna sandwich. I don’t cook on Saturdays. Dad gets Lean Cuisine frozen meals (which he actually loves), sandwiches, or chicken nuggets (yes, even those). There are ways to provide healthy meals without overdoing it.
Taking over where mobility stops. Mobility restrictions don’t necessarily mean incapable, bedridden, or home-bound. Make sure you’re not keeping them from doing something they’re still able to do. One of Dad’s biggest issues is mobility. He can walk by himself, but not very far and not well. However, the worst thing he could do is to stay in his chair all day. So I do intentional things that require him to move, like taking him to the grocery store. It’s easier and faster if I go by myself. And I often do. But Dad can walk through the grocery store by pushing the cart. I bribe him by telling him he can pick out his own Lean Cuisines.
Taking over every task. A dementia diagnosis doesn’t mean an aging parent has already forgotten how to do everything. Encourage them to do as much as they can, for as long as they can.
Doing everything for them. Don’t take away their purpose. Every human needs to feel needed, worthy, valued, and loved, no matter their diagnosis or their stage. Dad empties the dishwasher. It takes him much longer than it would take me. It gives him a “job,” and he likes knowing that he’s taken something off my plate.
The day will come when you must do a lot more. No matter where you are today, you’ll have to do more someday. Don’t take on everything now. It’s not good for you or the one you’re caring for.
If It Ain’t Broke, Don’t Fix It
Before you change anything, ask:
What is still working?
What do they still do well?
What routines keep them steady?
What can they continue to do with small, minor changes?
The first win is preserving independence wherever possible.
Pace Yourself
You don’t have to do everything today. Just because Dad can no longer live alone, that doesn’t mean you have to pack up his house, sell all his furniture, put his house on the market, and remodel your bathroom to accommodate his mobility needs today or even this week.
The thing about caregiving is that it’s always “in addition to.” You don’t stop being a parent, employee, spouse, sibling, friend, or any of the other roles you have just because you become a caregiver.
Don’t be afraid to ask for help.
Don’t be afraid to ask questions.
Don’t be afraid to take a nap.
Don’t be afraid to say, “I’ll do that tomorrow.”
Don’t be afraid to set boundaries.
Don’t be afraid to take 10 minutes in your car to throw a tantrum. I’m talking full-blown, two-year-old, screaming, fist-banging tantrum.
Here are a couple of small lists to get you started. Use them in the way that fits your situation.
Consider:
Must-do (essential medical/safety): understand the diagnoses and any safety, diet, medication, and mobility needs. Know what doctor appointments must be made.
Nice-to-do (quality of life): outings, hobbies, house projects.
Not-now (big changes): selling the house, family debates, reorganizing everything.
Quick Action Steps
Make or confirm next doctor appointments and medication refill needs.
Ensure that your loved one has food that fits dietary needs.
Make their home safe enough.
Dear Caregiver,
You can do this. It won’t be easy. You’ll want to quit. You’ll wish it would end and then spend the rest of the day beating yourself up for thinking such a thing because, if it ends, what does that mean?
But you’ll have moments of joy. They may be small and veiled, but they’ll come. Your loved one will tell you they’re glad you’re there. It will be in their own way, and it may not be obvious to anyone but you, but they’ll tell you.
Just breathe.
Blessings,
Tina (Dad’s daughter)
Now is the perfect time to become a paid subscriber.
If you’ve been thinking, I need a binder for all of this, well, same here!
I’m putting together a PDF set that is binder-ready to accompany this series. It will be available on April 17. It’ll be free (a $19 value) for anyone who becomes a paid yearly subscriber between now and April 17. A yearly subscription to Dad Lives with Me is $55 (US).
A Sampling of Additional Resources from Dad Lives with Me:
Turning Your Elderly Loved One’s Bedroom into a Nursery (and Why You Shouldn’t Feel Guilty About It)
4 Ways to Talk to Your Elderly Loved One About the Most Dangerous Room in the House
The Great Cane Standoff: Getting Your Elderly Loved One to Walk with Assistance
You're a blessing. Keep sharing. Many need this information, even if they don't realize it yet.
Thank you! I'm looking forward to this series. I'm 2 years into my journey with my mom and Alzheimer's and boy I wish I had this in the beginning. Still, very valuable information, even now.