Blog series - “Called to Care: Finding Meaning in the Midlife Caregiving Journey”

Week 1: When Life Rewrites Your Script

From Soldier to Full-Time Caregiver: The Unexpected Chapter of Purpose

They say life begins at 50—but I don’t think they meant caregiving, heartbreak, and grief all rolled into one. Yet for me, that’s exactly how this chapter started.

After serving 30 years in the U.S. Army, I had plans for retirement: travel, rest, maybe rediscovering a few passions I’d set aside while in uniform. Instead, I found myself back in the trenches—only this time, the mission was deeply personal.

Not long after hanging up my boots, my world shifted again. My marriage of over 20 years came to an end. I was emotionally raw, navigating the shock of divorce, unsure of who I was outside the roles I had lived for decades: soldier, spouse, and mother.

And then came the call to care.

My oldest brother, Clint—a proud U.S. Air Force veteran—was diagnosed with early onset Frontotemporal Dementia at just 54. Around the same time, our mom, Carol, received devastating news: her breast cancer had returned, now stage 4 and in her spine. Both needed care, and fast.

There was no blueprint. Just a decision: I brought them both into my home and became their full-time caregiver.

No more uniforms. No more certainty. Just day after day of managing appointments, medications, meals, emotions, and unpredictable moments of cognitive and physical decline. I had gone from Army operations to learning the rhythms of dementia care, from inspecting performance to inspecting pill organizers and managing bath and meal time. And truthfully? Some days, I didn’t know who I was anymore.

It wasn’t graceful. It wasn’t easy. But slowly, I realized something: life had rewritten my script, not erased it. All the years of leadership, service, and resilience had prepared me—just not in ways I had expected. I wasn’t fighting for a nation now. I was fighting for them—for Clint’s dignity, for Mom’s comfort, for the right to be heard in every hospital hallway and doctor's office.

This is the beginning of my story in midlife caregiving—not just about loss and sacrifice, but about finding strength when life calls you into unexpected service.

In this series, I want to explore the question I wrestled with in the dark moments:
"Is this my calling?"

Maybe you’ve asked yourself that, too.

Whether you’re just stepping into caregiving, or years into the journey, I invite you to walk with me as we look at how caregiving can break us open—and reveal purpose, even in pain.

“I’m the One with Stage 4 Cancer—But I’m Still the Caregiver”

At almost 80 years old, Momma should have been resting between her chemo and radiation appointments—not lifting others up, cooking meals, or sorting through insurance paperwork for the people she loved. But there she was.

She had always been the one to step up. It’s just what you do in a blue-collar family. You don’t ask who else can carry the weight—you just carry it.

When her breast cancer returned, this time spreading to her spine, she may have thought life might finally slow down. That maybe, just maybe, someone would take care of her for once. But almost at the same time, her daughter-in-law began forgetting simple things—how to get home from the store, the way to make her favorite recipe, even the names of people she’s loved for years. Then, momma’s oldest son, just 54, started changing. Quiet. Frustrated. Lost. His doctors finally gave it a name: frontotemporal dementia.

So now, momma was not just living with terminal cancer. She became the caregiver—for both of them.

This is not a story of pity. It’s a story of reality—for our mom and for thousands of others.

Mom and others her age are the elder caregivers. They’re managing medication schedules while hiding their own pain. They’re attending doctor’s appointments for others while silently dreading their own. They are seen as the "strong ones," the dependable ones—but sometimes, no one asks how they’re really doing.

💡 Practical Insight:

If you’re an older adult caring for someone with dementia while managing your own illness, here are a few small shifts that helped mom:

• Use a daily whiteboard or a sheet of paper. List medications, reminders, and meals. It helps all of us stay on track, even on days when your body is too tired to explain.

• Ask one person for one thing. Stop waiting for people to “just help.” Have the courage to ask: “Can you bring dinner on Tuesdays?” or “Can you sit with him for two hours on Fridays?” Be specific.

• Keep a folder. One place for every medical paper, diagnosis, and prescription—for yourself and your loved ones.

These tips don’t fix the hard stuff, but they create moments of clarity in the chaos.

📢 A Call to Awareness:

The healthcare system doesn’t see people like mom. It assumes caregiving stops with age or illness. But for many, it never does.

We need caregiver support programs that include elder caregivers—the ones holding entire families together with limited income and fewer resources than ever before.

This blog series will follow our mom’s story over the next six weeks, not to shine a spotlight on hardship—but to show just how much heart, strength, and sacrifice lives in the people no one’s checking on.

Elders may be aging, but they’re still carrying the weight of others. It’s time someone carried them, too.