To the Caregiving Children
Letters to my patients, day 10
You’re losing it — yourself.
The identity you once knew began slipping away when your parent received their cancer diagnosis.
Growing up was fast-tracked. You went from 8 to 16 years old in a few months because someone has to help give mom her shots, from 16 to 25 the year you drove her to chemotherapy appointments while dad worked, from 25 to 50 the moment she lost the ability to perform her daily cares and you stepped in. You wonder if all this growth has forced you into the parental role, one you did not want to fill.
Regardless of age, there is an identity shift when you become the caregiver for a parent. The complexities involved in this should be handled delicately.
Too much care giving and you lose all sense of self, burning out and being unable to carry the responsibilities of your own life — much less your parent’s.
Too much grief over your change in identity and you begin pulling back from giving any care — internalizing your frustration, resentment, and distancing yourself from those you love.
I do not have the perfect equation to provide balance for your experience, but I can tell you what I see.
A mother finding significant comfort in the presence of her adolescent daughter who sits with her during chemo infusions, knitting peacefully nearby.
A father who looks happily at his daughter as he tells me that children are a blessing — he has 5 — and this one is his oldest, who comes to every visit. She glows under his loving gaze.
The overwhelmed 75-year-old gentleman, calloused and stoic, but clearly weary from treatment. His daughter advocates for him — he is not himself, he is depressed. We start a medication. He may not fully understand enough to appreciate it, but she is the main reason he starts to feel better.
An older couple, overwhelmed by this new diagnosis, accompanied by their son who records all the updates in his notes app, keeping track of medication changes and upcoming appointments.
Regardless of your parent’s understanding and appreciation of your care, it does make a difference.
It is okay to grieve the loss of the identity you had, the life you expected, the parent-child relationship that is changing. And it is good to find a new way of being, of caring, of loving.
Become acquainted with the new version of you and be sure to care for that person too. You cannot give from an empty cup.
You are doing a hard thing — thank you for shouldering this responsibility and stepping up for your parent. Reach out for help and support, you were not meant to do this alone. (If you feel like there is nobody to help, read this.)
When you are mourning your changing identity while caregiving for a parent, take what you need:
I can mourn the loss of my old identity while exploring my new one.
This is an act of love. I will take it one day at a time.
I will strive for balance.
I am doing a hard thing, it is important to take care of my own wellbeing on this journey.
I can ask for help.
Change is a natural part of life — it is not always easy, but I can handle it.
Thank you for being here,
This is part of a 31-day series of letters to my patients — those undergoing a work-up, diagnosis, or treatment for cancer. Topics are also focused on those caregiving and supporting individuals affected by cancer. This is not an easy journey, but you do not have to do it alone.
Cancer Compass is available for free to all. Consider gifting a monthly, mailed version to a dear friend by upgrading to a paid subscription.
This is not intended to be medical advice — please consult your healthcare team for individual medical expertise.
Let me know what topics you hope to see this month! I have many of the days filled, but not all of them. I would love to hear your thoughts, experiences, or questions.