The Transition from Child to Caregiver

I spent the last few days in the hospital with my dad. He is 79.

When we are young we think our parents are invincible. We never pause to think that they are getting older. Until they do.

Growing up, my dad always seemed so tall. So big. So calm. His motto throughout life has always been, ‘be kind.’ I can remember him saying it to me from a very early age. I never truly understood it’s importance until I had kids of my own. He knew all along.

As I sat in the room next to his bedside, I had many moments of thinking, this isn’t right…why are we here? I’m not old enough to be in this position with my dad, except strokes know no age. And sometimes, they just happen.

I wasn’t prepared to see him lying down. That part scared me. And the gown, and the bed, and the walker. I felt 10 years old a few times, wishing that someone would tell me what to do.

I didn’t know how to answer all the questions that were asked. I didn’t know my dad’s medical history. I didn’t know the things they read to me from his chart. Or how to make the big decisions they asked.

And when the nurse said, ‘I see your dad is a DO NOT resuscitate’ I gasped. ‘That can’t be right,’ I said. And when I looked to my dad with tears in my eyes, I saw the tears in his. And he looked so small and so sad.

‘I want to see my wife. She is waiting for me in heaven.’

I held it all in as I sat in that uncomfortable chair, 8 months pregnant, swollen, wearing a mask, and exhausted. And wanted to scream, but you have family here too. I am here.

I didn’t say it though. Because I didn’t know how. And I understood that losing her two years ago changed him. Because I see it in him.

I don’t know how to do any of this really…

Grow up. Become the caregiver and decision maker for my parent.

I guess my point is, I haven’t quite figured out how to switch roles or even have the conversation yet. Instead I spent two days sitting there, watching him sleep, and answering his questions about his sweet grandson’s when he asked.

We talked about the weather and the Final Four and how when he brought me home from the hospital in his conversion van with shag carpeting there were no car seats. And we laughed a lot. And I cried when he slept because I don’t know what I am doing.

Talk to your parents. Start the conversation. And know, it will be hard, but it beats hearing it told to you by a nurse. And it’s okay to be scared. Know that.

As for my dad, he started ‘boot camp’ today, which is a full day of therapy to hopefully get him walking again. He’s planning on a full recovery. I am hoping too.

Finding Cooper’s Voice is a safe, humorous, caring and honest place where you can celebrate the unique challenges of parenting a special needs child. Because you’re never alone in the struggles you face. And once you find your people, your allies, your village….all the challenges and struggles will seem just a little bit easier. Welcome to our journey. You can also follow us on Facebook, subscribe for exclusive videos, and subscribe to our newsletter.