Dawn P.

I became a caregiver in high school when my mother's health began to decline. My grandmother had dementia, and my mother had been looking after her, but when my mom started to have trouble walking, I picked up some of the responsibilities. I cooked a lot of Grandma's meals, gave her her medication and helped to bathe her. She would often forget who we were and where she was so I watched her to make sure she didn't leave the house. After my grandmother passed away, my mom became completely bedridden and I took full responsibility of her care until she too passed. Those years were a difficult time for both of us. It was hard to see her suffering, and she was ashamed to have her son help bathe her. Being a social butterfly, she felt lonely despite maintaining a pen pal relationship with some family and friends. We watched television and looked forward to enjoying our favorite shows together. We played card games and listened to music on occasion. The times we had in her room and the smile on her face when I brought her some of her favorite food made things a little bit easier. I felt appreciated. She had such a beautiful, genuine smile. I wish I could see it in person one more time. Right before she died, several of the nurses at the hospital and a social worker commented on how there were no bedsores on her body, and how common they are with people that are in bed for so long. I'd been diligent about changing her sheets, blankets and clothing, and maintaining her hygiene.

12 years have a experience as a caregiver.