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Yahoo
a day ago
- Business
- Yahoo
‘Planning for my disabled son after I die keeps me awake at night'
Suzanne Robinson's 15-year-old son, Zac, is severely autistic and non-verbal. 'If he's in the garden, he'll pick up leaves, he's eaten a snail before, he'll drink from a puddle,' says Robinson. 'He has no concept of personal safety, so you can't leave him alone for a second, because anything could happen.' Zac needs one-to-one care around the clock and lives full-time in a specialist school in Thatcham, Berkshire, called Prior's Court, funded by his local authority. While his care is paid for, having a disabled child is hugely expensive for Robinson and Matt, Zac's father. On average, parents spend an extra £322 a month on their child's condition, such as higher energy bills and food costs, according to disability charity Contact. 'Everything he needs is expensive. We've spent a lot on private therapies. We still spend loads on supplements and things, which may or may not help, but you do everything you can,' adds Robinson. 'We've spent hundreds of thousands of pounds, probably, over 15 years, trying to help him as much as we can, really with pretty little result, if I am honest.' But the big concern for the couple is about what will happen to Zac – and their daughters – when they die. In England, a council will generally help to pay for care costs if a person has savings of less than £23,250. An inheritance could change the picture, especially if a home is inherited, as councils can require that homes be sold to help pay for care. Having a live-in carer costs between £800 and £1,600 a week, according to the NHS, while rooms in a residential or nursing home can cost as much as £850 a week. 'The worry is for the future. You're trying to protect your child as much as possible and provide for them without it affecting their entitlement to social care, because this stuff is ruinously expensive,' Robinson says. 'You don't want to leave it all to the girls, because that's not fair, but also we don't want our entire estate to be taken for his care so that they have nothing.' She adds: 'It keeps me awake at night. What's going to happen when we're not around? I don't want the burden of it to fall on my daughters.' The Robinsons are far from the only family to have to deal with this dilemma. Rhiannon Gogh, 47, also has a 15-year-old son, Tristan. Like Zac, he has severe autism, although he lives at home. The family realised something wasn't right when Tristan didn't hit the same milestones as his older brother, Henry. She says: 'We could never put him down. He cried a lot. He wanted to be rocked constantly, even when he was asleep. 'He never, ever looked at me. He never answered to his name. He never pointed at anything. He never responded to me talking to him. He seemed to be locked into a separate world. He used to run away from me at nursery when I would go to pick him up.' Like the Robinsons, Gogh has had to think about what will happen to Tristan when she and her husband die. Handing down estates to those without mental capacity is much harder than she expected. Not only does she need to think about making sure he can still access funded care, but levelling a large sum on a person without full mental capacity could make them a magnet for scammers. 'I quickly realised that all of the traditional financial planning that I'd put in place was completely wrong,' she says. 'It was going to cause him harm. He wouldn't be able to access his inheritance, he would be very, very vulnerable in receipt of it, and he would lose his access to care, support and benefits if I were to suddenly just land a chunk of money on him.' Parents of disabled children often have to give up work – which only exacerbates money worries. Robinson, 50, previously an actor and events organiser, is now a therapist. But when Zac was small, she stopped working to look after him, leaving her husband Matt, 49, who works as a business coach, as the sole breadwinner. 'Because of Zac's needs, no nursery would take him, we couldn't get him looked after, so the reality is that my career went completely on the back burner while my husband's took off.' She claimed carers' allowance, which worked out at £66.15 a week by 2019. It is now £83.30 a week. By the time Zac was nine – and with two younger daughters to care for – Robinson says she was 'on her knees'. Things got easier once Zac began attending residential school. But when he turns 16, his case will be passed to adult social care. The family faced a three-year battle to get him into residential care originally, and will face a similar process once again, including hiring lawyers to argue Zac's case. 'We'll have to go through the whole process again of proving his level of need and trying to get them to pay for it.' If the family fails to get his care extended into adulthood, their world could be upended again. Zac would have to move home, and Suzanne is particularly worried about how she will look after a fully-grown man as she ages. She asks: 'When he's 35, I'll be 70. Am I going to have to change a 35-year-old man's nappy at 70?' Gogh also gave up her corporate job 10 years ago to look after Tristan after he ran away from school. She now works as a financial adviser, specialising in helping families with severely disabled children. She has written a book, Planning with Love, on the subject. 'It's incredibly draining on finances,' Gogh says. 'He breaks things, he falls into things, he drops things, he bites clothing. He loves to see things dismantled and broken. 'He took an iPad once and smashed it on the corner of the table to see what happened. He's thrown a television out of a window.' A £400 car seatbelt was used just once before being thrown aside, because Tristan 'hated it'. She and her husband are planning a 'retirement for three', as he will be unable to support himself. Setting up your estate to ensure the future of your disabled child can be complex and often requires expert help, which is another cost. To ensure that the disabled person is eligible for care, while also receiving an inheritance, money can be left in trust. A disabled person's trust – which can be set up for someone eligible for disability living allowance or personal independence payments (PIP) – is specially designed for those without capacity. A discretionary trust can also be used, although it may attract higher tax bills. Trustees will need to be appointed to make decisions about what happens to the money. Those who cannot look after their own money may also need a deputy, who is appointed by the courts to make decisions for them, or might have their benefits managed directly by the Department for Work and Pensions. Choosing trustees is a minefield of its own. Gogh says: 'Who would a natural trustee be? You might think the natural choice would be a sibling, but then you think: 'Is it really fair to put that pressure on them by making them a trustee?'' Her eldest son, Henry, is just 17. He is very aware that, at some point in the future, he will become responsible for his younger brother. It's a heavy burden for a teenager. Gogh says: 'My poor other son has no choice, and he plays second fiddle, which is heartbreaking. 'I remember him saying to me in the car about a year ago: 'What if I go on holiday to Japan, in the future, when you're not here. Do you think someone will know how to get hold of me if something happens to Tristan?' 'He's already thought about that. He was only 15 at the time.' Planning for the future also raises the question of fairness between siblings. Robinson says that she doesn't want to leave all the money to her daughters, cutting Zac out entirely. But on the other hand, leaving everything in trust for Zac would feel equally unfair. 'You don't want to leave it all to the girls, but we don't want our entire estate to be taken for his care so they have nothing. That's just not fair. It's something families don't have to think about until you're in that position. 'You assume that you'll be able to split the estate between your children and they will all be able to look after that money themselves, and have the capacity to manage money. And of course, none of that applies in this case,' she says. Planning with Love: A Guide to Wills and Trusts for Parents of Children with Special Needs by Rhiannon Gogh (£15.99) Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.
Forbes
a day ago
- Business
- Forbes
Summer Is Coming: What To Do If The Slowdown Isn't Showing Up At Work
For many professionals, this summer already feels different. Historically, the anticipation of summer offered an opportunity to recover after sprinting for six months. However, with economic uncertainty rising, particularly in industries facing trade tensions and regulatory shifts, summer may no longer feel like a reset. Organizations are managing leaner teams, higher expectations and heavier workloads. But even as work intensifies, the pressure doesn't stop there. For busy professionals, women especially, demands at home often rise in parallel. Coordinating childcare and eldercare, managing summer schedules or simply keeping up with shifting routines can feel like a second job layered on top of the first. The accumulation of these demands takes a toll, and year over year the impact is visible. According to Gallup's 2025 State of the Workplace report, global workforce engagement decreased, with only 21% of employees feeling engaged at work and just 33% describing themselves as thriving. Well-being has declined most sharply among women in management, who reported a seven-percentage-point drop over the past year. While this data does not isolate summer specifically, it reflects a broader strain that only intensifies during busier times. From shifting work dynamics to rising caregiving demands, this season brings new challenges. Navigating them well starts with knowing what's really at play and what to do about it. Summer break doesn't mean less work - it means a different kind of work. For working parents, the end of the school year marks the beginning of a caregiving sprint. Camps, childcare, family travel and daily logistics require time, attention and emotional labor that rarely shows up on a calendar. And unlike school, summer doesn't come with built-in structure or stability. According to Bright Horizons' 2025 Modern Family Index, 87% of working parents report challenges when their children are home during summer including interrupted workdays and the stress of managing unpredictable schedules. 68% say summer feels like a break for everyone but them. It's the kind of strain that may be invisible in daily schedules but compounds quietly - raising the risk of burnout while making recovery feel inaccessible And while the parental pressure is clear, women often carry the larger share. A 2023 Pew Research report found that in dual-income households, women continue to shoulder the majority of caregiving and household responsibilities even while working full time. That imbalance doesn't pause for summer. It intensifies. Even for professionals without direct caregiving responsibilities, summer doesn't always bring relief. When colleagues are out, the burden shits to those still online - and this certainly compounds on leaner teams. PTO becomes a puzzle of coordinating coverage, navigating deadlines and managing expectations from clients or leadership. For some, taking time off doesn't mean less work; it just means temporarily shifting the work somewhere else. And even when time off is granted, it doesn't always translate into recovery. Another Pew Research study highlighted that 46% of U.S. workers say they don't use all their paid time off. Many cite fear of falling behind at work (49%) or feeling badly about co-workers taking on additional work (43%) as reasons for not taking more time off. Particularly now, industries like retail, manufacturing, tech and even legal are managing more pressure due to evolving regulations and litigation. These sectors are navigating complex compliance landscapes, which increases workloads and make stepping away more challenging. The result is a subtle kind of burnout - the kind that comes not from intensity but from continuity. Time off is either unavailable or incomplete. Even when the calendar says, 'out of office,' the mental tabs stay open. The inbox piles up. Pings still come through. And the stress of anticipating what's waiting can turn so-called rest into another source of pressure. The season may promise flexibility, but that flexibility is often filled with invisible work. The question then becomes: how can recovery still happen, even when the ideal version isn't possible? If the slowdown hasn't come yet, it might not. Recovery can still be designed. For professionals navigating a demanding summer, small shifts in planning and mindset can offer a sense of agency - even if rest looks different this season. Here are a few strategies to make sure that by the time Labor Day hits, the question, 'How was your summer?' doesn't make you laugh - or cry. Structure can soften stress. Choose one activity each week that restores your energy - something low-effort, but high impact. A walk with a friend. A 30 minute walk. A crossword puzzle on Sunday. Schedule it like a meeting. It may not fix the week, but the ritual can help reclaim a sense of control and support well-being. Start with what's left. How many PTO days are unused? Then make a plan you can actually stick to. That might mean blocking one Friday a month now through August, or building a long weekend around a holiday. There are even sites that help you hack your vacation days. You don't need a five-day trip to make it count. Micro-vacations can be more accessible. A night at a hotel in your own city. A 90-minute train to a beach town. You don't need months of planning or thousands of dollars to feel away. Harness the quick trips that you can plan the week of and only need one bag. If you can't pause the season, at least protect one piece of it. Maybe hat means setting a 'no meetings before 10:00a.m.' rule once a week. Maybe it's pausing notifications after 7:00 p.m. Boundaries aren't selfish - they are strategic. And when you do disconnect, have a plan for it. Unplugging entirely isn't always realistic. For some people, it adds for stress. Instead of aiming for perfect silence, set parameters that actually support recovery. Maybe that means scanning your inbox once a day without replying. You know yourself best. The goal is to identify the cadence that supports your mental well-being and commit to it with intention. Summer may not slow down - but that doesn't mean it has to run you over. For professionals navigating this stretch without a built-in break, the goal isn't balance - it's capacity. Protect the moments that replenish your energy by choosing strategies that make burnout less inevitable and thriving more within reach. It's not about making the season perfect. It's about making it livable.
Yahoo
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Dina Pugliese says people 'have no idea' what her life was like before she left TV due to burnout: 'I felt like a failure'
Dina Pugliese's warmth is contagious. When the 51-year-old speaks, it's as if you're sitting with a beloved aunt at her kitchen table, being fussed over and offered anything you could possibly want or need. It's her uncanny ability to move through the world creating an instant familial atmosphere that has led to her success as the host and executive producer of Breakfast Television (BT). For almost 20 years (save for a two-year hiatus in 2023), the Toronto native has been a constant on morning television, willingly giving herself and her energy in hopes that viewers begin their day on the right foot. With a rejuvenated career and an upcoming panel talk at the Women's Healthy Living Show in Toronto next weekend, Pugliese remains determined to connect with her audience. But this time, she's no longer looking to distract viewers from their problems. She's sitting with them in their struggles by sharing her own — and reminding them that they're never alone. Yahoo Canada recently spoke to Pugliese about burnout, caregiving and more. In 2023, a demanding career and years of shouldering the weight of private stressors had taken its toll; she felt as though she had nothing left to give. In February of that year, Pugliese announced on air that she was leaving BT. While she says her decision was necessary — it wasn't one she took lightly. I couldn't believe I let myself get to that point of burnout. The last couple months were a complete Pugliese 'I felt like I was disappointing so many people, including myself. I couldn't believe I let myself get to that point of burnout. The last couple months were a complete fog,' she said. 'For years I had gone through different family health crises and I'd been spending all night in the ER or hospital wards. I was with my family during their chemo treatments and radiation and then I would show up on BT. I looked at it as compartmentalizing pain.'Pugliese recalled an author once saying that during a difficult time, she gave herself 15 minutes a day to cry in the shower before moving on with her day. Soon, she began her day the same way before heading to the studio to film BT. "I would cry in the shower and I would pray for strength, then I'd go out there and I'd say, 'I need to laugh. I need this as medicine,'" she recalled. pray before composing herself for a day in front of the cameras. Although it was difficult, her career was her 'medicine' that helped her soldier on for as long as she could. 'When I got to a point where I couldn't draw from that well anymore, I felt this incredible sense of failure,' she said. 'Like I was letting myself down, letting others down. … How could I leave a job that I loved so much?' How could I leave a job that I loved so much?Dina Pugliese Soon it became obvious to Dina, her husband, Alex Mirkovich, and her doctor that her body was crumbling due to stress. The first months after leaving BT were dedicated to sleep. Then she began reconnecting with nature and going to church to 'fill her spirit.' 'It was centring and grounding. Reconnecting with God gave me strength,' she said. But like many people, Pugliese's identity had become inextricably tied to her career. If she wasn't working, who was she? Who was the real Dina? 'I didn't know what it meant anymore because I was so defined by this job that I loved. And then I felt like that person was gone. I don't know if I'll ever see that person again,' she said. 'I didn't even know who that person was.' Pugliese's personal life in the years leading up to 2023 was challenging to say the least. In 2014, her husband was diagnosed with a brain tumour, which required surgery in 2021. Pugliese took a temporary leave from BT to support him and other family members experiencing health issues. Acting as caregiver is something that comes naturally to Pugliese. Her first recollection of taking care of others is her beloved nonna, Dea. When Pugliese's grandfather died, she began sleeping next to her nonna so that she would never feel lonely. She cared for her maternal grandmother, who she calls her "kindred spirit" throughout her life. It was a formative bond that she holds dear, even now. 'It stayed with me that life is short. It's finite, and you have to care for the people you live with,' she said. Her husband's health struggles, which the couple kept private for years, required a different level of care. It's an emotional topic for her but one she feels called to share. I was watching him like a hawk…,' she said. 'He had to learn how to do everything Pugliese 'He's so strong and he's so resilient and he's so stubborn. That all helped him recover as well as he did. But it was really hard being in the hospital by myself, having the responsibility to care for him.' Without outpatient care, Dina was around the clock caring for her husband. 'I was watching him like a hawk…,' she said. 'He had to learn how to do everything again.' Almost two years after she left TV, Pugliese was contacted to participate in a talk about her personal experience acting as caregiver for family members. 'I was so nervous,' she said. 'I used to do this stuff in my sleep. I was like, what do I do? They [told me], 'Just be Dina!'' Once she was on stage, she felt something reignite inside of her. 'It was like muscle memory and to hear the crowd laugh and connect with them in that way… The connectivity with good people was what I missed…. It was still there.' When Pugliese decided to return to BT in early 2025 she needed to ensure that she wasn't headed for burnout again. That meant creating a different schedule for her day, building in breaks for herself and saying 'no' to more than she used to. Pugliese's focus remains dedicated to her family, rest and work. It also included a lifestyle change. Now that she's in her 50s, Pugliese is navigating perimenopause and learned from her doctor that she needed to overhaul her lifestyle and get moving. 'That's part of the holistic process, right? You have to keep your heart strong," she said. "You have to try and go for walks to clear your mind and do all of the things that we know to do, but sometimes forget to do.' Although her time away from TV forced her to slow down, she's happy to be back in front of the camera, doing what she loves. 'It's a blessing to be a part of people's lives every single day in the morning, when they're at their most vulnerable and for them to let you in. You bond and connect in a way that very few other shows can," she said. No matter where she goes, Pugliese takes time to stop and talk to people. Whether they're viewers that she meets while running errands or people that she meets while travelling, she manages to form a connection. It's not uncommon for Pugliese to share a laugh or a few tears with those she comes across. 'All of my emotions in my 50s are right at the surface," she said. "I don't know if it's burnout… I'm just raw. All somebody has to say is something nice and I'm bawling… because people don't have to be [nice], so often you only hear about the negatives. When somebody just shoes their kindness and their decency, it goes right to my heart." There's so many things people don't know. They have no ideaDina Pugliese As a public figure, Pugliese has faced more than her fair share of criticism and hurtful comments from strangers. A glimpse into her social media account shows Pugliese with her family, travelling, smiling and enjoying life. Her followers never would have known that privately her family was in the trenches, fighting to hold on to one another. "There's so many things people don't know. They have no idea. I remember for years people would look at Alex and I, we'd share photos when we would travel, because we both love to travel and they'd be like, 'Must be nice' or asking why we don't have any kids," she said. "They had no idea that we tried... It would have been the biggest blessing. The only reason why I stopped trying is because [my husband] was diagnosed with a brain tumour." Now that she's on the other side of things, Pugliese reminds followers often not to rush to judgement. "We really have to be careful because we never know what anybody's going through," she said. "It's curated and it looks a certain way, but they don't now the real truth." While her struggles and public-facing career could have left her hardened, Pugliese remains unapologetic about leading with kindness. "'I've been called 'too nice' like it's a bad thing by bosses… If that's the problem then I am not fixing it because the world needs more nice...," she said. "Just because you're nice, doesn't meant mean you're weak. Just because you're nice doesn't meant mean you're a pushover. "Nice has gotten me burned. Nice has gotten me in some serious predicaments. … You're going to get hurt no matter what, but I choose to still and always lead with kindness."
Yahoo
a day ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
My cultural awakening: A Timothée Chalamet drama made me leave my partner – and check him into rehab
Two summers ago, I met a man on a dating app who would become my boyfriend. The red flags were there from the start, but I ignored them all. When I stayed at his, he didn't have a towel to offer me, and he never changed his sheets. It became obvious that he didn't know how to look after himself. Even though, in reality, he could survive without me (similar to how a teenage boy would survive on his own, eating burgers in bed), I felt like, if I wasn't there to buy groceries, cook and clean, he might die. He would disappear for days, on a drink- or drugs-fuelled bender, and I'd assume he'd overdosed in a basement somewhere. I lived in fear that something terrible would happen to him. I became his boyfriend and his caregiver. This was a familiar role for me: I'd done it in all my previous relationships. I needed to be needed. If the person I was dating didn't need me, then what value did I have? I found safety in taking care of someone. This started as a family dynamic: as the eldest child, I had to look out for my younger brothers, and learned to overlook my own needs. Then, when I was 14, my girlfriend died in a drug-related car accident. My therapist helped me to see the connection; that because I couldn't save her, I sought romantic relationships with men or women I thought I could save instead. I hadn't seen how much I was damaging myself by trying to help him. And that I never would never be able to One evening, after being recommended it by Netflix, I began watching Beautiful Boy, a film about the breakdown of a father's relationship with his son, who is an addict. It was about halfway through that I decided to leave my relationship. When Steve Carell's character (David) hangs up on Timothée Chalamet (Nic), saying, 'I wish I could help you, but I can't do that,' I knew I couldn't either. I admired the strength it took to end the cycle of trying (and failing) to save his son. Even though he was my boyfriend and three years older, I related to the father-son dynamic in Beautiful Boy. I felt responsible for him, and he would tell me that he would die without me, threatening to take his own life. Until then, I hadn't seen how much I was damaging myself by trying to help him. And that I would never be able to, not really. He had to learn how to take care of himself. As David says: 'I don't think you can save people.' Despite deciding to end the relationship in September 2023, I didn't take action until October, when I cheated on him. I felt I had to do something irreparable that would make it impossible for us to stay together. I told him what I'd done over the phone, then I called his mum to tell her about his drug problem. I don't think she knew: she lived in another country and he hid it from her. Finally, I called a psychiatric facility and did all of the admin to make sure that he would be taken care of, and then never spoke to him again. The guilt I felt was overpowered by the feeling that this was something I had to do. That was my last codependent relationship. I have a new boyfriend, who tells me that my company alone is enough. I'm the most peaceful I've ever been, but sometimes the voice that says I'm only lovable if I'm useful comes back. If I try to cook for my boyfriend when I'm tired and he tells me I don't have to, I can spiral. But slowly, with help, I'm building a sense of self that doesn't rely on being of service. Beautiful Boy helped me see that I don't need to take care of someone else to have value. Action on Addiction is available on 0300 330 0659.
CTV News
2 days ago
- General
- CTV News
‘Things not to say to a caregiver': How humorous videos may improve communication with those caring for loved ones
Katrina and Jennifer, the caregivers now co-creators of the series. A new video series is trying to change the language around caregivers across Canada with biting, yet humorous examples of inappropriate things people say to caregivers of loved ones who are ill or disabled. 'I heard things that made me feel worse, multiple times a day,' said Katrina Prescott, who cared for her mother Kathryn Rose, who had dementia and other chronic health issues. The seven years of caregiving was done out of love, says Prescott, but was exhausting and isolating. Katrina Prescott Katrina Prescott poses for a photo with her mother Kathryn Rose Love. (Jesse Winter) When well-meaning friends would show their concern by telling Prescott she 'should get more help,' and that she should 'take more care of herself,' she struggled to explain how it wasn't physically or financially possible. 'I was exhausted, and I would feel judged that people didn't really understand the scope of what I was navigating,' said Prescott. 'Those types of comments just really added weight to my already very, what felt very heavy, world and the level of exhaustion that a person encounters when they're caregiving is inhumane.' Following her mother's death in 2022, Prescott began collaborating with Jennifer Fraser, another longtime caregiver for a mother with dementia. Their mutual frustration in the face of years of misguided support gave birth to a YouTube series called, 'Things Not To Say To a Caregiver.' The seven episodes are based on real events, drawn from those caring for elderly parents, spouses and children with chronic illnesses or disabilities. Each segment runs for three minutes, but delivers a punch against key problematic phrases targeted by the two caregivers: 'You need to take time for yourself.' 'Your mom should be in long-term care.' 'You should get more help.' 'I couldn't do what you are doing.' 'You're an angel.' 'Let me know how I can help.' 'It just takes so much work for me to think about HOW I can ask you to support me,' said Prescott, adding actions, not words, count. 'Just walk in my house, you can see it. It's a mess. Do some dishes or take out the garbage. There's so many things that could be done,' she added. The videos also introduce a character Prescott dubbed her 'Carey godmother' -- a fairy godmother for caregivers -- who humorously identifies the hurtful or unhelpful phrases, and then pointedly delivers guidance to improve supportive communication. 'We learn through discomfort,' said Vivian Stamatopoulos, a researcher at Ontario Tech University who has studied caregiver stress. 'You had some comedy, but you also had a stark reality of how tough it is for the actual caregiver, and how sometimes well-intentioned advice can really hurt and be offensive,' she said. 'Don't ask them, 'What can I do to help?' Because they're already making 1,000 decisions, and just cannot tell you what they need,' adding people should communicate with empathy and understanding. 'Offer very tangible, small things. Can I bring you a coffee? Can I come in and sit in at your place for a bit while you go run errands?' In less than two weeks, and with little publicity, the videos have a combined half a million views and climbing. One of the most popular segments, according to Prescott, addresses the practice of calling the caregiver an 'angel' for doing the work of tending to a loved one. Experts say while it's meant as a compliment, it puts caregivers on a pedestal and overlooks the inevitable frustrations of the role. 'Instead of saying, 'Oh, you're such a saint for doing this,' saying, 'I really see the love you're offering your mom,'' said Liv Mendelsohn, the executive director of the Canadian Centre for Caregiving Excellence. Prescott wants caregivers to share the segments, sparing them the distress of explaining and educating visitors. The videos are already working. 'When my friends watch it, they ask 'Was that me? Did I do that?' (They) are taking a lot of time to really reflect and I appreciate that,' she said. Stories for Caregivers Carey Godmother. (Stories for Caregivers) Invisible and growing caregiver burden About one in four Canadians are unpaid caregivers to a family member, friend, or neighbour, according to a survey by Statistics Canada. Surveys show most perform about 5 hours of care daily, often in isolation because the rest of their day is consumed with their own work and other personal and family duties. The videos, says Mendelsohn, helps shine a light on their plight. 'We know that caregivers are doing a lot of what they're doing behind closed doors. They're doing toileting and managing medications. And they're exhausted.' she said. According to recent research, 47 per cent of caregivers report feeling tired, 44 per cent report feeling worried or anxious, with 37 per cent saying they feel overwhelmed because of their responsibilities. University of Alberta researchers found that 75 per cent of that care being provided is unpaid. As caregiving obligations increase, caregivers who have other jobs face a growing risk of burn out as they try to balance their professional obligations and private duties to family. With Canada's aging population -- and a national shortage of assisted living, home care services and long-term care beds -- the number of people who will have to care for loved ones will only grow. It's prompted advocates to push for more recognition and support for caregivers, including help with mental health and financial obligations for home health care supplies. The biggest call for help, says Mendelsohn, is for occasional breaks or respite care because '90 per cent of caregivers have told us they desperately need this.' 'It's very hard to find help in the system, and it really is very demanding,' says Prescott, who is now a support coach for others who care for loved ones. 'They need help. This is a 911 you know, and it's ignored.'
