Young Caregivers

Young(ish). Married. Shoulders like an oak.

[youngcaregiver-blog]

Caregiving & the Middle Class: My Letter to the President

Good afternoon, Mr. President...

I wanted to share this experience as an example of what is happening to the already crumbling middle class when we suddenly find ourselves as caregivers.

In 2010, my mother had a devastating stroke that nearly killed her & paralyzed her entire left side. She was working full time and trying to care for my grandfather (dementia) and grandmother (diabetes).

Suddenly, my wife and I found ourselves caring for three adults, all in pretty bad shape, while trying to maintain full time jobs and two households. We quickly discovered that help and recovery are extremely cost prohibitive. I often think about how we're actually better off than a lot of folks and how I can't even begin to imagine what their struggles look like.

My wife had to quit her job because we can't always afford caregiving services. Nursing homes and skilled nursing facilities are wildly overpriced, grossly understaffed with low wage employees, and the condition of a lot of these places is just scary. I've heard terrible stories of people purposely unloading assets to qualify for Medicaid just to get some kind of help. So, there's a healthcare gap for the middle class that needs to be addressed. The wealthy can afford any number of services. The poor have access to Medicaid. And it's (pardon the language) Shit's Creek for the rest of us?

According to the CDC, 795K people suffer from strokes every year and strokes are the leading cause of long-term disability. While I loudly applaud the emphasis on preventative services and the abolishment of pre-existing conditions, the issue of long-term disability and the middle class should go beyond being passed off to the Administration for Community Living website for links to potential resources. Anyone who has gone through this process understands that pursuing those resources is a bit like fighting a 5-alarm fire with a garden hose.

This issue isn't exactly a sexy media topic, but it is very real and very painful. It's already heart wrenching to see your loved ones suffer, physically and emotionally. But, it's almost worse to know that it is 2014 and the U.S. Middle Class is on the ropes, praying they can avoid the knockout punch before it is too late...

[youngcaregiver-blog]

End is the Beginning

In 2006, at 27 years old, I moved back to Oklahoma from Los Angeles to help my mom take care of my grandparents after my grandfather was diagnosed with dementia. Soon after, I met and married the woman of my dreams, six weeks before her 22nd birthday.

Like most young newlyweds, we were still very committed to family while overjoyed to begin a new chapter in our lives together. My grandmother was in her early 80s and in great health, my grandfather wasn't far along yet and my mom moved in with them just for good measure. We appeared to be well-prepared to help them enjoy their golden years. We were wrong.

In 2010, my mother had a devastating stroke that nearly killed her and paralyzed her entire left side. At this point, my grandfather was really beginning to go downhill. And, as you can imagine, my grandmother's health took a big hit from seeing her daughter in a terrible way.

Suddenly, my wife and I found ourselves caring for three adults, all in pretty bad shape, while trying to maintain full time jobs and two households. I spent many late nights wishing and wondering what it would feel like to be able to reach out to aunts and uncles or brothers and sisters. But, I'm an only child and my mom is an only child. And we're far from having the kind of money that permits all those heartwarming recovery stories you see on the news. Most people are.

My wife and I vowed to someday write about our experiences to help folks like us. We've gone through so many ups, downs, doctors, specialists, hospitals, medications, financial woes, applications, nurse aides, therapists, therapy methods, etc. The list goes on, seemingly forever. But if we can help one person find a resource or feel like he/she is not alone, it's all worth it.

I wanted to begin our story with the end of another, as this event inspired a new hope in our lives.

My Grandmother's Eulogy

My Grandmother (born in Ōmuta, Fukuoka, Japan in 1926) loved to write letters. Really, she just loved getting mail. But her valuables drawer was filled with letters from family and friends. Bleeding hearts and stripped souls on neatly folded paper, each page carefully handled by her soft, loving hands. Letters were her treasure and I intend to add one more to a chest already bursting at the seams…

Dearest Okaasan, Oku-san, & Baba,

Imagining life without you has always been my biggest fear. As I sit here, writing this, my eyes heavy with tears, I’m overwhelmed with feelings of joy for all the gifts you’ve given me – none more important than your last. You returned from the hospital during an ice storm. Cold. Relentless. Limbs heavy. It seemed appropriate. I wept as the cherry blossom Grandpa planted for you was crushed under the weight of a deep freeze.

"Those who believe in the Lotus Sutra are as if in winter, but winter always turns to spring."

On the morning you arrived at Eagle Peak, the sun seemed incredibly bright, almost blinding when reflected off the large panes of ice on the driveway. I kissed you goodbye and said “ganbatte" like you did for me every morning you sent me off to school. As you left your castle on Forest Lane for the last time, it began to rain so hard that any ice on the earth below was immediately washed away. But, it wasn’t a storm. It was the sun, embracing the trees, which were singing loudly against the bluest of skies, turning winter into spring before my eyes. And as if this poem weren’t enough, when I saw the cherry blossom turned back toward the sun, I knew you had written it for me.

Suddenly, I was no longer afraid. I had the honor and privilege to witness the culmination of a lifetime of faith and effort. And in one perfect moment, it was all proven to be true.

So, Aloha ʻoe. A hoʻi aʻe au. Until we meet again.

I love you.