Tonight, I was too exhausted to take a shower after work. I stood in my bathroom, looking at the tub that wouldn’t drain, knowing I still had to be up at 6 a.m. for another shift. My body ached. My mind was foggy. And all I wanted was 10 minutes of quiet. Instead, my phone lit up again. It was my mother.

I’ve been a registered nurse for over 30 years. I’ve cared for patients through emergencies, chronic illness and end-of-life transitions. I thought I understood what caregiving meant. I didn’t – not until I became responsible for my own parent.

I never planned to leave New York City and return home to take care of my mother. My father died suddenly after a delayed cancer diagnosis. By the time they found it, it was already stage 4 with metastasis. Six months later, my mother survived a near-fatal car accident. I had a new job lined up. Instead, I gave it up and stepped into a role I wasn’t prepared for: full-time caregiver.

What followed were surgeries, rehabilitation and a slow, uncertain recovery. Then came more setbacks – and eventually, significant vision loss. The appointments became constant. The driving alone began to wear me down.

Caring for a parent is not just physical – it is emotional, relentless and often invisible. My mother is still functional in many ways. She can walk, she can use the bathroom independently and her mind is........

© USA TODAY