I haven’t posted in a while, and there’s a reason for that. From May through October, my world shifted in ways I didn’t see coming. My 93-year-old father, who had been my model for aging well — living independently, traveling, playing golf three times a week—became seriously ill. In the span of just a few months, I found myself living in that space so many of us eventually face: the sandwich generation, caught between caring for my teenagers and young adult children while navigating multiple crises of an aging parent who suddenly needed me in entirely new ways. We were not WETSUing!!
If you’re going through something similar, or if you see it on the horizon, I want to share some of what these six months taught me. Not because I have all the answers, but because I wish someone had told me some of these things when I was in the thick of it.
When the Roles Reverse (And You Become the Head of the “Committee”)
The first hospitalization was disorienting. Suddenly, I wasn’t just his daughter anymore—I was the record keeper, the medical interpreter, the person making sure the cardiologist knew what the neurologist said, that discharge instructions were clear (spoiler alert, I caught what could have been major mistakes multiple times!), that medications were reconciled. What my Dad called the “Head of the Committee”, a lovingly derogatory term about making decisions with my siblings.
Here’s what I learned:
You Need a System, Fast.
I started keeping a dedicated notebook with daily notes on the key metrics (blood pressure, weight, kidney function, etc.), each specialist, medication lists (updated after every change), and a timeline of episodes. When you’re exhausted and emotional, you can’t trust your memory to hold all the details that matter — and seeing it chrolologically will be important. Yes, this information will all be in the hospital’s “patient portal” but I captured what I thought was important to track and follow. The portal did become valuable to read the doctors clinical notes which are a record as well as message to other “providers” (their term for Dr.)
Ask Questions, Relentlessly
I also learned to ask the question that became my mantra: “What am I not asking that I should be?” Doctors are used to families who don’t know what they don’t know. Most were happy to fill in the gaps – but you need to ask, otherwise they move on to the next patient.
I also felt like our role became connective tissue between the doctors. They may have not gotten around to reading the clinical notes, so when you do see the Dr. and ask questions like “The Cardiologist said this…” you get real-time info, an you likely get more of the “why” than when you read it in the notes.
Learn the “Rounding” Schedule — and Get There Early!
Nurses are amazing, but the Doctors are the ones calling the shots so you need face-time with them. In most cases you will need to be at the hospital early to catch them when they are visiting patients. If you miss them, you can have them paged, but you may end up waiting longer than if you caught them on regular rounds.
Your Role Can Change, Rapidly!
What also became dizzying was how quickly your role as the loved one, and the support required of you, can change. When an incident happens and they’re in the hospital it’s clear that you are an advocate for your loved one. When my Dad was moved to a “Rehab Unit” it was less advocate and more support. But it was also figuring out what services would need to be set up to support him after discharge. This hospital-rehab cycle happened three times, and each time the level of post-discharge services changed dramatically.
Finding Resources (When You Don’t Even Know What You’re Looking For)
Each hospital discharge brought new needs: home health aides, physical therapists, medical equipment, meal services. My sister and I were constantly scrambling to source, vet, and schedule caregivers and resources we’d never needed before.
Some things that helped:
Hospital Resources
The hospital social workers became invaluable allies. They knew the landscape of local services in ways I never could have researched on my own. I learned to ask for their help early and often.
Community Resources
Online caregiver communities and local “Commission on Aging” resources pointed us toward services I didn’t know existed. Other families who’d been through this were generous with their recommendations. And I’ve always unlocked resources by calling and talking to people, even if you know they won’t ultimately be what you need. I’ve found a universal truth to be that people want to help and are willing to share information. It may become a phone-tree rabbit hole, but it’s worth going down.
Commercial Resources
My Dad started out not accepting much help, so I found a caregiver on Care.com. She was great, but within a few weeks another hospitalization made it clear that we needed more. My sister had a contact at Comfort Keepers (a national franchise) and they were amazing. They had the stable of vetted, trained caregivers; they had a process for communicating so there was no gap in care; and they surrounded us with technology (notification systems, video monitors, fall detection, etc.). While it was a bit more expensive, there was a relief in going with a company that does this everyday and knows what they’re doing.
Senior Housing Consultants
My sister knew a woman who’s job was to work as a consultant as you look for a senior living facility. Her company, Options For Senior Living became invaluable. We made contact with her early on and toured some facilities, well before my father was ready. She knew all various facilities, their strengths and weaknesses–and most importantly, what would be a good fit for my Dad. And that fit criteria changed dramatically over a few short months. We ended up putting a deposit down on one that just a short time later became not a great fit–again, things change rapidly.
This is an invaluable service, and it’s paid for by the facility you ultimately go with. So, zero downside of utilizing this service.
The Myth of Self-Care (And Why You Still Have to Try)
Everyone tells you to take care of yourself. It’s well-meaning advice that can feel impossible when you’re spending months away from your own family, living between the hospital, your father’s home, and eventually, touring assisted living facilities.
I won’t pretend I mastered this. But I did learn a few strategies:
Permission to Do the Minimum
Some days, self-care meant bringing my walking shoes to the hospital and leaving for a long walk outside. It meant a quick face-time video chat with home to tide me over. I’m so fortunate to have a spouse who fully understood what I was going through (her father passed away in January) — and still I felt some guilt at not pulling my parenting load. She made that okay, even while I was hard on myself.
Micro-Moments of Release
You will likely ride a wave of emotions — and that’s okay. I learned to take them as they came weather that was crying in my car or laughing at something absurd in the middle of the chaos. These weren’t luxurious self-care rituals, but they were necessary pressure valves.
Ask For What You Need
My sister and I were trying to support eachother by “dividing and conquoring”; letting each of us stay connected to our work and real-life. This was an amazing partnership and there were times when both of us just couldn’t go through it alone and needed the other one there! I am so appreciative of her saying “Thank you for telling me what you need.” And, before long I was able to do the same for her. That’s just how this “sandwich generation” season goes.
Just Go With It
After leaving the hospital, even though I was exhausted, I found that the last thing I wanted to do was go home to a quiet, empty house. I would do some shopping (yes, T.J. Maxx is open until 9:30pm) but mostly went for long drives. Fortunately there’s no shortage of beautiful destinations in Northern Michigan. And, early on the the process, I wrote two in-depth blog posts about the Traverse City area. You can read Part 1 and Part 2 here.
The Grief Nobody Warns You About
This was the hardest part, and the one I was least prepared for.
My father is still here. He’s mentally present. We’re fortunate in so many ways. And yet, I’ve been grieving. Grieving the loss of his independence, the image of him striding confidently across a golf course, the version of our relationship where I was still primarily his daughter and not his Power of Attorney.
With each fall, each hospitalization, each new limitation, there was a small death of how things were, and the hope that they would ever get back there. Even as we fought to honor his wishes to stay home and remain independent, we eventually had to acknowledge that 24/7 care was necessary. Moving him to assisted living—even a wonderful facility—meant accepting that things would be permanently different.
I had to give myself permission to feel sad about this while also feeling grateful he’s still with us and the daily burden wouldn’t be on me and my sister. Both things can be true. The grief doesn’t negate the love, and the love doesn’t eliminate the loss.
Unexpected Gift: My Sister’s Superpowers
My sister and I have always been close, and this experience revealed dimensions of her I hadn’t fully appreciated. Where I got lost in medical details and logistics, she had an incredible ability to connect with my father emotionally and know what he needed.
I had to let go of doing everything my way and recognize that her strengths were exactly what we needed. When it came to furnishing his apartment in the Assisted Living facility, I went first to aesthetics, what would look good. She had this insight into accessibility and what was going to work for him and his limitations. From the size of buttons on the mircowave that he’d be able to see, to furniture placement he wouldn’t trip on…she was genius!
We became a team in a way we’d never been before. Embracing each other’s different approaches made us both better caregivers—and probably saved our sanity in the process.
What I Want You to Know
If you’re in this Sandwich Generation season or approaching it, here’s what I hope you’ll take from my experience:
You don’t have to have it all figured out. You’ll learn as you go, and that’s okay.
The role reversal is disorienting and emotional. Be patient with yourself as you navigate it.
Resources exist, but you have to actively seek them out. Don’t be afraid to ask for help from professionals who do this every day.
Self-care might look nothing like the Instagram version. Do what you can, when you can.
Grief can coexist with gratitude. Honor both.
If you have siblings or other family members in this with you, look for their strengths, not their weaknesses. You need each other — and know that the opportunity to leverage your respective strengths will come.
I’m still processing everything that happened over these past six months. My father is settling into his new home, and I’m slowly returning to my own life and family. But I’m changed by this experience—stretched, exhausted, but also more aware of my own resilience and the profound gift of being able to show up for someone who showed up for me my entire life.
If you’re in the sandwich generation right now, I see you. It’s hard. You’re doing better than you think you are.
I’d love to hear from others who’ve navigated this journey. What helped you? What do you wish you’d known? Let’s support each other in the comments.
