Recognition
The caregiver’s hidden shift.
Your mom got discharged on a Thursday.
The hospital handed you a folder. Your brother said he would handle the pharmacy. He didn’t. Your sister texted, “How’s Mom?” for the third time that week instead of checking in herself.
By Sunday, you were sitting in the car before going inside, trying to pull yourself together enough to do it all again.
You’re not a nurse. You’re not a social worker. You’re someone who loves them — and somehow became the person responsible for keeping everything from falling through the cracks.