So.. I Guess I'm a Caregiver?

The Role that Crept In

There wasn’t a moment when someone stuck a badge on me reading, “Congratulations—you’re now a caregiver!”

Instead, the role crept up on me. Before I knew it, I was:

• Joining Mum’s visits to the doctor
• Asking tough questions about her care
• Juggling a mix of notes, emails, and texts
• Sharing updates with family
• Worrying about how she’d care for herself at home

There wasn’t a big shock that spurred me into action—but I know that’s how it happens for many of us.

(Another kind of shock would come for us later.)

As Mum’s conditions became more complex, the doctor’s visits piled up. I began joining more of them, alongside other family members. Maybe I always knew, on some level, that Mum needed long-term care—her joint issues had been there for years. But there’s a big difference between quiet awareness and taking on the role of her advocate.

The Turning Point

For much of my twenties and early thirties, I avoided thinking too hard about what Mum might need from me. I clung to a reassuring story—that things would be fine. That I didn’t need to worry yet. That her condition wasn’t getting worse.

But it was. And it would only continue.

Things became more urgent when she received additional diagnoses. There were more medications, more appointments, more to track. We bought new equipment. She started wearing a smartwatch to monitor her vitals.

As the complexity grew, so did my involvement. I paid closer attention. I stepped in more often. I accompanied her to see doctors.

My biomedical background helped me ask better questions during visits. But that wasn’t what changed things. What shifted was the realization: Mum needed more than I was giving. She didn’t just need me to help out.

She needed a caregiver.

I remember the moment. We were with one of her new physicians discussing medication options. The visit was moving along. I’d usually take a back seat—after all, I didn’t attend every appointment. But that day, I wanted more clarity. I asked about the trade-offs, raised a few concerns, and paused for deeper reflection. We debriefed afterwards.

That moment, without meaning to, I stepped into the role of caregiver. And since then, caring for Mum has only expanded in scope and intensity over time.

Carrying On, Quietly

Since then, I’ve joined most of Mum’s medical appointments. I help her work through the many layers of her care. We’ve faced difficult moments, but I hope she feels confident knowing I’m there with her.

So—have I accepted my role as a caregiver?

To be honest, I’m not sure I have. I just get on with it.
And I think a lot of us do.

We fold caregiving into our lives, without naming it.
Even as it changes everything.

“Perhaps that’s why caregiving doesn’t get the visibility it deserves. If caregivers don’t claim the title, how can the world see the work?”

The journey to becoming a caregiver is different for everyone. This is just my own reflection. But moving forward, I’ll try to be more intentional about saying it out loud:

Yes—I’m a caregiver.

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