6 Month Strokeaversary: Reflections from a Caregiver 6 Months Post Stroke

It's been 6 months since my dad's stroke. Where has the time gone?

Time has been a strange concept since my dad's stroke. It feels like everything happened just yesterday, yet also like a lifetime ago. Even now, as life has settled into a "new normal," I find myself constantly wrestling with time—my biggest enemy and most precious resource.

Before my dad’s stroke, life was already busy. I was balancing the hats of wife, mom, and professional. But no matter how hectic things got, I always carved out time for my parents, especially on Sundays. Those moments, though sometimes fleeting, were precious and grounding.

And then the stroke happened. It was life-altering for all of us. Suddenly, I wasn’t just a daughter anymore—I was a caregiver. My dad needed help learning to navigate his new reality, and my mom needed support adjusting to hers. But where do you find the time for something so monumental when life already feels stretched thin? There are only so many hours in a day.

Now, six months later, I’ve learned some hard but valuable lessons about time. Here are a few:

Lesson #1: Caregiving is a Role That Requires Time

Caregiving isn’t something you can squeeze into the margins of your life. Like any significant role, it demands time and energy, which means other things have to give. I calculated that I spend about 20 hours a week in my caregiving role—roughly two hours every evening and five hours each day on the weekend. That’s time I used to spend with my husband and kids.

The old idea of work-life balance doesn’t apply here. I can’t magically split my day into equal thirds of work, family, and sleep. So, I had to confront the reality of my limits. To stay healthy and resilient for my family and my dad, I’ve had to intentionally reallocate my time. By adding a new role that requires 20 hours per week of my time, I had to give up 20 hours per week elsewhere.

Lesson #2: Family Matters—But Balance Matters Too

My dad’s stroke has taught me how fragile and precious family connections are. It’s a stark reminder that our parents won’t live forever, and we don’t get a do-over when someone we love needs us.

When people hear I spend 20 hours a week supporting my parents, they’re often shocked. "Isn’t your dad in long-term care? Can’t they handle it?" they ask. The answer is yes, the facility provides excellent medical care, therapy, and recreation. But who offers the emotional support, the encouragement, the connection, the love? That’s the family’s job.

As the only child living in the same town as my parents, I’ve taken on this role wholeheartedly. But in the early days, it came at a cost. I was working full-time, giving my parents the hours they needed, and unintentionally stealing that time from my husband and kids.

One day, my teenage daughter told me she felt like I’d abandoned our family. Her words hurt—they came out messy and emotional—but she was right. It was a wake-up call. I couldn’t keep stretching myself so thin. I had to make a change.

Now, I work part-time, about 20 hours a week. It’s a decision that’s allowed me to better balance my time between my parents and my own family. I’ve reclaimed precious moments with my kids and husband while still showing up for my dad and mom.

Lesson #3: Celebrate Progress—Even When It Feels Slow

Stroke recovery is a marathon, not a sprint. It’s easy to focus on how much has changed or how far there is to go. But I’ve learned the importance of pausing to reflect on how far we’ve come.

When my dad first had his stroke, I couldn’t imagine him having any quality of life again. But we’ve celebrated so many milestones: his ability to eat independently, wiggle a toe, stand without a lift, walk with a cane, and even take transit on his own. My mom, too, has found independence—learning to drive and navigate life on her own.

These moments remind me to keep perspective. Yes, we still have challenges ahead, and yes, stroke recovery is an uphill climb. But if I don’t take the time to reflect on these successes, I risk losing sight of the progress we’ve made.

Conclusion

Looking back, the journey hasn’t been easy, but it’s been deeply meaningful. Time will always be a challenge, but I’ve learned how to use it more intentionally—prioritizing what matters most, embracing balance, and celebrating the wins along the way.