While We’re Taking Care of Everyone Else

Over the past week, it seemed the world collectively paused to honor the life of Dolly Parton.

From Nashville to social media feeds around the world, stories have been shared, songs have been played, memories have been told, and tributes have poured in for a woman who somehow felt like she belonged to all of us.

For 80 years, Dolly gave the world far more than music.

She gave us laughter. Inspiration. Generosity. Authenticity. Faith. And a reminder that you can be wildly successful while still being genuinely kind.

She had a way of making people feel seen.

And while the world has been celebrating the extraordinary impact Dolly had on so many lives, there was one article I recently read that stopped me in my tracks.

It wasn't about her music.

It wasn't about her rhinestones, her humor, or even her incredible accomplishments.

It was about something Dolly had openly admitted regarding her own health.

In an article titled “Dolly Parton's health struggle highlights a crisis facing millions of American caregivers,” the writer referenced a video Dolly shared last fall in which she explained that after caring for her husband, Carl, during his illness and following his passing, she realized she had neglected her own health.

She said:

“I didn't take care of myself, so I let a lot of things go that I should have been taking care of.”

When I read those words, I didn't just understand them.

I felt them.

“I'll Reschedule It”

I had a doctor's appointment scheduled.

But then I learned about my dad's health situation.

So, I canceled it.

I'll reschedule, I thought.

But life had other plans.

For the next three weeks, my focus was on helping take care of both of my parents before they were moved into a nursing care facility.

Three weeks later, my father passed away.

Then came the funeral.

Cleaning out their home.

Preparing it to be turned over to its new owners.

Continuing to take my mother to doctor appointments.

Spending a week in the hospital with her while she was in the ICU following a procedure.

Visiting her daily for the first three months and then three to five times a week after that.

For eight months, working almost daily on Medicaid applications. Three submissions. Countless phone calls. And eventually, the help of my cousin and a senator before we finally got her qualified.

There were financial matters to manage.

Accounts to take care of.

Quarterly meetings with medical and social work staff.

And when I wasn't physically at the nursing home visiting my mom?

She called.

At least ten times a day.

There were forms.

Phone calls.

Doctor appointments.

Hospital stays.

Financial decisions.

Medicaid applications.

Meetings.

More phone calls.

Add the parenting tasks of a high school child preparing for college,

The roles of a wife, mom and grandmother, and…

Somewhere in the middle of all of it...

There was me.

Or rather, there wasn't.

The Appointment I Never Rescheduled

Exactly one year after canceling that doctor's appointment, things finally seemed to calm down enough for me to think about rescheduling it.

By then, I wasn't feeling particularly well.

I had gained weight.

Leg injuries had kept me from playing tennis and working out like I once had.

After long and exhausting days, I was eating at all hours of the night.

I wasn’t sleeping well.

I felt stressed.

I knew I wasn't taking care of myself.

But I don't think I realized just how much I had neglected my own health.

When I finally went to that appointment I had intended to have a year earlier, I learned my blood pressure had been out of control.

So had my cholesterol numbers.

Other health issues needed attention too.

After an echocardiogram and a calcium scan of my heart, I learned there were calcifications in one of my coronary arteries.

Enough that I was now considered to have coronary artery disease.

Medications were added to hopefully keep things from progressing.

And so was another doctor to my growing list of appointments.

A cardiologist.

I had spent so much time making sure everyone else got the care they needed...

that I hadn't realized how badly I needed care too.

The Caregiver Nobody Sees

This is the thing about caregivers.

We don't usually wake up one morning and decide we're no longer going to take care of ourselves.

It happens slowly.

One canceled appointment.

One missed workout.

One meal grabbed on the run.

One prescription forgotten.

One sleepless night.

One more thing added to the list.

Until one day, you look up and realize everyone else has been receiving your care...

except you.

Caregiving is an act of love.

But love can be exhausting.

It can be physically demanding.

Emotionally draining.

Financially stressful.

And often incredibly lonely.

Because while everyone sees the person receiving care, the caregiver can become almost invisible.

They're the ones sitting in waiting rooms.

Making the calls.

Filling out the forms.

Managing the medications.

Keeping up with appointments.

Making difficult decisions.

Advocating.

Worrying.

Losing sleep.

Trying to hold everything together.

And often doing it all while convincing everyone around them...

"I'm fine."

But sometimes we're not fine.

And sometimes we don't even realize how not fine we are until our own bodies finally demand our attention.

Even Elijah Needed Rest

There is a story in the Bible that came to mind as I reflected on this.

In 1 Kings 19, Elijah was exhausted.

He had been through an emotionally and physically draining season and had reached a point where he simply had nothing left to give.

And I love what God did.

Before giving Elijah another assignment...

He let him rest.

He fed him.

He cared for him.

Sometimes we think strength means continuing to push through.

Keep going.

Don't stop.

Everyone is depending on us.

But perhaps real strength also means recognizing when we need to pause.

To rest.

To make the appointment.

To accept help.

To nourish our bodies.

To care for the person God entrusted to us too.

Ourselves.

Because taking care of yourself isn't selfish.

It's necessary.

A Reminder from Dolly

I don't know if Dolly ever imagined that one honest statement about her own health would resonate with so many people.

But it did with me.

Because even someone as strong, successful, and surrounded by people as Dolly Parton could find herself so focused on caring for someone she loved that her own needs were pushed aside.

And if it can happen to Dolly...

It can happen to any of us.

Maybe one of the greatest gifts we can give caregivers is permission to remember this:

You are allowed to rest.

You are allowed to ask for help.

You are allowed to say, “I can't do this all by myself.”

You are allowed to take care of your health.

You are allowed to keep your doctor's appointment.

You are allowed to take a walk.

You are allowed to have lunch with a friend.

You are allowed to take a break without feeling guilty.

Because caring for yourself doesn't mean you love the person you're caring for any less.

You can care deeply for someone else without disappearing in the process.

It simply means you recognize that you matter too.

A Prayer for the Caregiver

Heavenly Father,

Today I pray for the caregivers.

The ones who are tired but keep going.

The ones sitting in doctor's offices, hospital rooms, nursing homes, and waiting rooms.

The ones making phone calls, filling out paperwork, managing medications, handling finances, and making difficult decisions.

I pray for the ones who haven't slept well in weeks.

The ones who have postponed their own appointments.

The ones who can't remember the last time they did something just for themselves without feeling guilty.

Lord, remind them that caring for themselves is not selfish.

Remind them that they, too, are worthy of rest, attention, healing, and care.

Give them permission to pause.

Give them courage to ask for help.

Give them wisdom to recognize when their own bodies and hearts are asking for attention.

And when they feel they don't have the strength for another day, remind them that they don't have to carry everything alone.

Be their strength when they are weary.

Be their peace when decisions feel overwhelming.

Be their comfort when their hearts are hurting.

And Lord, please...

Send someone to care for the caregiver.

Amen.

Caregivers, if you are reading this, please hear me:

Thank you!

Thank you for all you have done and continue to do for others.

All you have done and continue to do matters.

You matter too.

Your health matters.

Your heart matters.

Your rest matters.

And sometimes the strongest thing you can do is make sure you're still taking care of the person doing all the caring.

While we're taking care of everyone else, let's not forget about ourselves.

With love and blessings,

Bonnie ❤️

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