Jessica Mattila, MSW, LCSW
This holiday season my husband, 12-year-old son and I traveled to Indiana to visit my in-laws. I looked forward to seeing my husband’s family while I felt unprepared to enter a caregiving household. In November, my mother-in-law, Sara, broke her femur. She was in the hospital and then a rehab facility for a couple of months. Four days before we flew in she was discharged home. Home health services, a standard aspect of a discharge plan after a medical event or diagnosis were not yet in place because of the holidays. In Sara’s case, she would need physical and occupational therapy, and a nurse providing wound care and general monitoring.
I fell into a pattern I had heard other caregivers discuss– the desire to help, but the confusion of reversed roles and dynamics.
As a social worker and woman, I felt compelled to step into the role of a caregiver. I fell into a pattern I had heard other caregivers discuss– the desire to help, but the confusion of reversed roles and dynamics. Sara had experienced delirium during her hospitalization, and her sense of self was returning slowly. My father-in-law, one of the most cheerful and patient people I have ever met, doggedly attended to his wife’s needs on an unpredictable, yet frequent basis. Occasionally my son would run downstairs to get his grandpa’s attention when he heard Sara calling out. Sara was usually an even-tempered, gentle woman with a quick sense of humor. When she would easily burst into tears of frustration and worry, or express her love and appreciation for her family, I was reminded of the early recovery days after my mastectomy.
Caregivers, I know you hear time and time again, to take a break from your role when you can. After my close contact with a caregiving family, I see how essential this is to the journey you have committed to. My husband visibly relaxed and laughed when we took one evening away from his parent’s home to visit his cousin for dinner and board games. He was able to experience a little reset from the stress of the caregiving situation at home. I did, too. Unfortunately, my father-in-law was unwilling to accept help and take that break for himself. Now that we’re back home, we settle into the role of long-distance caregivers; unable to provide direct assistance, but ready to provide emotional, practical, and planning support.
My husband’s cousin has had an intense caregiving experience over the past few years. Her father was diagnosed with cancer in multiple organs and has long COVID. Her husband, a relatively young and fit man, has had three strokes in the past year. She quit her job to take care of him for six months. What a whirlwind, challenging experience for anyone to go through. And yet, as she was leaving my in-laws home Christmas evening, she quietly beckoned me over to her. She took my hands in hers and said, “I heard about your cancer diagnosis. I am so sorry this happened to you, and I am grateful that you had it treated and that you’ll be okay.” I was in shock for a few seconds. I squeezed her hands and tried to return my gratitude and appreciation for everything she's done for her family.
Caregiving is love. Caregiving is family. Caregiving is community. Caregiving is crying, heartache, and fear of the unknown. Caregiving brings us together in ways that were previously unknown or forgotten to us. Caregiving demands our complete attention. Consequently, all caregivers should demand support and breaks to walk the long and winding road with endurance and compassion, even if it’s a night out with friends or family.
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