By Casey Beros
When TV presenter and health communicator Casey Beros learned that her dad was terminally ill, she moved her family across the country to become his carer.
All around the world, every day of the week, people are trying to care for the people they love while working and parenting and trying to maintain friendships, doing some exercise, staying across current affairs, paying their bills and not drowning in their own lives. Their dreams, goals and basic needs are carefully placed on a shelf to gather dust because there simply is no room left for them once all the doing is done. They end the day with more on their to-do list than when the day began, and no one knows this better than the sandwich generation.
Whoever coined that term has clearly never been in the position it was intended to describe – caring for young children and ageing parents at the same time. Two completely different sets of needs, with someone – usually a woman – at the centre, feeling like one of those Mr Stretch dolls from the 1980s, whose overly toned arms stretch way beyond their natural capacity.
Working parenthood feels impossible as it is; adding in the additional layers of logistical and emotional complexity that come with caring for someone you love who is ill, injured or simply ageing is enough to tip anyone over the edge. And yet, day-in, day-out, we do it. We’re the first generation to do so, but as we continue to live longer and have babies later, this experience will become very much the norm.
I wish I had some magical advice here that would make this challenge easier. I don’t. The best I’ve got is to acknowledge that it’s unbelievably hard and you’re going to drop balls left, right and completely off the court.
I was lucky to live a 10-minute drive from Dad’s apartment. I was even luckier to have an incredible support network, the ability to survive on only my husband’s wage, and work which I could scale back and still be paid well for when I was able to dip my toe in without losing a job that I needed to survive.
It’s not lost on me that this isn’t the experience of the vast majority of carers, and I am in full support of the fact that we need to create policies to better support them.
Until that day, here’s a few things that helped me:
Tell your family and friends you need their help
Don’t wait for them to offer, because when people don’t know what to do, they tend to do nothing.
Can they pick up your kids one day a week and keep them until you can get home? Make a meal for your freezer? Pick up your medications from the pharmacy? Don’t be a martyr and try to do it all yourself. You’ve survived this far in the big, bad world; you can sit in the discomfort of saying four words: “I. Need. Your. Help.”
Tell work what’s going on
Every industry and workplace is different, but I don’t subscribe to the notion of keeping work and home separate. Let’s face it, even if we were still trying to, that pesky virus that shook the world by its tonsils completely obliterated any barrier that was left.
If your care responsibilities are likely to impact your work, which they probably will, find the most empathic boss in your workplace and tell them what’s going on. You might not even be asking for anything yet, just their understanding if you’re not quite yourself. Their response might surprise you.
Speak to your kids teachers
If you have school-aged children, tell their teachers what’s happening at home. Kids take everything on and feed off your energy. If you’re (understandably) absent, stressed or upset, that lands on them, whether they show signs of it at home or not. If their teachers know, they can provide an additional layer of support and help compensate in the schoolyard and classroom.
If you have a partner, tell them what you need
I must’ve been a saint in a previous lifetime, because I got to marry one in this one. The way he stepped up to care for me, our children and my dad in our time of need was nothing short of heroic.
He asked frequently what I needed, and anticipated those needs as much as he could. He didn’t once complain, even when he absolutely could’ve and probably really wanted to.
But partners are not mind readers, no matter how well they know you. Tell them what you need. Monthly, weekly, daily, hourly if you have to. And remember – they have needs too. Their giving is not an endless tap, just as yours isn’t, so they’ll need to top up the coffers at some stage as well.
You need support
You’ll notice these all require you to communicate with people about what’s going on. I know some people hold their cards (very) close to their chest, and all I can say is that when you are Next of Kin, it’s not the time to be private – it’s time to be human. If people don’t know, they can’t support you. And you need their support, even if you’ve traditionally not been very good at asking for it. If things get exponentially harder, you’ll be glad to already have some support and understanding in place.
Leaning on each other isn’t just vital to our survival; it’s what makes us thrive.
Casey Beros’ new book, Next of Kin: What to Expect When You’re Expecting to Care for Someone You Love (Wiley $34.95, 27 August 2025), shares her personal story and provides a heartfelt and practical guide to navigating the complicated world of care. In this edited extract from the book, Casey explores the challenges of being sandwiched between caring for her father and her young children, all while navigating the usual hustle and bustle of everyday life.