Robin Weeks
CAREGIVER CONSULTANT
GRIEF FACILITATOR
Hi and Welcome!
If you have landed here, I guess you want to know a little more about me and how I came to this work.
In a span of one week, I lost both my father and my brother. That threw me into the role of caregiver for my mother. I didn’t realize that was what I was doing at the time. She was grieving, lonely and needed some help.
After more than a year of traveling across the state line to stay with her twice a month, I realized that was not sustainable. We talked, and she agreed to move to assisted living near my home.
That is when things started to get more intense. Assisted living was great for her, but there were a ton of things I had to start doing. I wore myself out trying to be all and do all for her. I couldn’t bear to see her so sad all the time. And, she was no longer driving, so I had to take her everywhere.
I was worn out and constantly in a state of wondering if I was doing the right things. There were ER trips. Did I know enough about her health? My siblings lived several states away and did not visit often. I felt alone, isolated, and sometimes resentful. I carried my phone 24/7 and slept with one eye open.Â
Moments together were fraught with the sense of I need to…
Conversations were punctuated by worry, anticipation, and fear.
I hardly recognized myself anymore. I cut back on my work and isolated myself socially. I gave up some of my personal activities to spend more time with her.
Then, I hit the wall. I was burned out. I could hardly make myself go into her assisted living residence one day. I sat in my car and cried.
I was so caught up in doing, the one role that seemed to disappear was that of being the daughter. Caregiving was an act of doing. I had forgotten I was there to Care. And that meant caring for myself as well.
I realized that to manage my mother’s needs, I needed to make changes. I wanted to enjoy my time with her, not resent it. I wanted to treasure these last years of her life that we got to spend together.
So, I did the following things to transform this experience and to take better care of myself so I could really be there for her.
I set boundaries.
I partnered with her care team.
I delegated.Â
I had some difficult conversations with family.
I became a Communications Specialist when navigating the healthcare system.
I became a Patient Advocate as I considered tough situations and made decisions.
And I became a Program Coordinator as I facilitated a myriad of departments, services, and people.
And importantly, I became proactive instead of reactive. Transforming the way I looked at this role of caregiver opened a door for me to care. I was able to find moments of joy and laughter with her, to remember stories and sit in the present with her not always doing something. That’s all she really wanted. And, it allowed me to give up my constant worry, guilt and fear.
After the death of my mother at the age of 94 I came to some realizations. I spent over 6 years caring for her. Not all of it good. Caregiving can be heartbreaking and lonely and bring moments of laughter and joy. I have many treasured memories over those years that are only mine. Caring for her brought to me a depth of compassion I had never known.
It was an amazing journey. It was my journey with her to the end of her life. And that is an amazing thing.
NO CAREGIVER SHOULD HAVE TO DO THIS ALONE.
Now, I come to you with the understanding and empathy of someone who has been there.
I want you to have the support and knowledge to traverse this caregiving journey with confidence.
I want you to know that there are gifts in this once-in-a-lifetime role.
And I want you to continue in your most important role:
That of a loving family member.
The PATH program will provide you with everything needed to make this happen.
There will be emergencies.
There will be times you need to drop everything.
However, you will be better prepared and less likely to hit the wall with this community behind you. Let us be your companions along the PATH.
I look forward to learning about you and your loved one…
Warmly,
Robin Weeks
