When we think of the typical profile of a family caregiver, we don't picture a child of 8 or an awkward teenager -- but as increasing numbers of aging Americans come to need care, more children are stepping in as primary caregivers for a chronically ill or disabled parent, sibling or grandparent.
Moving into assisted living or a memory care community can be hard on both the person and their family. The good news is there is much family members can do to ease the transition. Here are eight tips that will bring more ease into the initial assisted living experience.
When illness strikes or a child is born or adopted, workers should not have to worry about losing a job or critical income. The LGBT community must join the call for paid leave laws and ensure that all workers have the support and time to recover from illness and care for their loved ones.
If you're worrying about your mom falling and needing help, one of the most frequently used products over the years for seniors living alone is a medical alert device -- also known as a personal emergency response system, or PERS.
There are nearly 10 million of you out there, adult children older than 50 who are caring for aging parents. We used to refer to a "sandwich" generation, those people who had children late in life, only to be confronted simultaneously with teenaged angst and parents who need more and more help.
Two weeks ago, I got a call that my mother had suffered a stroke, and that she was in the hospital. For someone with Alzheimer's, like her, hospitalization can be a traumatic and sometimes fatal event.
Our grandparents had arthritis; we'll have arthritis. The difference is we'll live with it longer. The difference is we've had fewer kids. The difference is we may have higher expectations. The difference is that there are vastly many more of us.
It may be a personal calling, a debt to pay or an act of profound love, but caring for an elderly parent or loved one can be a difficult juggling act. Here is some practical advice on the medical front to the 50 million Americans who are the unpaid caretakers.
The last surviving member of the Stanford class of 1933, Dr. Ephraim Engleman, is turning 102 in a few weeks. He serves as a shining example of healthy longevity -- he continues to work part-time and has no intention of retiring.
When my dad sees me, he gives me a big smile through chocolate-stained dentures. He's just finishing a cookie. There are crumbs on his lap and on the floor surrounding his wheelchair. His fingers are speckled with chocolate. He is thoroughly enjoying that cookie, and the mess doesn't bother him.
Where could we as a nation focus our efforts to ensure available jobs are of good quality? One need look no further than the burgeoning field of eldercare with a particular focus on the direct care workforce.
I was furious about all of it -- my mother's incapacity, my daughter's teenage angst -- and the fact that I couldn't fix any of it. I am the oldest child, after all -- the hero, the one who tries to fix everything.
We know that if there is one thing that everybody in this wide, diverse and sometimes contentious world shares, it's their mortality. That is something that all of us will go through with the people we love and then ultimately with ourselves.
When someone suffers through trauma like Sandy, talking about it furthers the process of understanding and healing and creates the connections and support systems necessary to shoulder the burden. This is especially vital for the elderly and homebound.
Sometimes the signs are right there in front of you -- whether you can spot them immediately or not. For me, it was during the holidays, when my dad wandered away from a family gathering and emerged hours later, disheveled and upset.