Drinking from the Fire Hydrant: Surviving When Everything Changes Fast

“New beginnings are often disguised as painful endings.” – Lao Tzu

The past two years have felt like I’ve been trying to take a sip of water from a fire hydrant. Between caring for my mom, who had end-stage Alzheimer’s, dealing with my dad’s urgent health issues, closing my medical practice, and transitioning into a new phase of life, I’ve been hit with one thing after another. It’s been a whirlwind, and at times, it felt like I was drowning in the sheer volume of change and responsibility.

Caring for my mom was a full-time job. Watching someone you love fade away piece by piece is heartbreaking. Alzheimer’s is a cruel disease, stealing memories and leaving behind a shell of the person you once knew. My mom needed round-the-clock care, and as her primary caregiver, I often felt overwhelmed and helpless. There were days when I didn’t know if I could keep going, but faith and the love for my mom kept me pushing forward.

As if that wasn’t enough, my dad’s health also began to decline rapidly. My dear brother, sweet sister-in-law, and niece were caring for daddy as I cared for mama. Each of us are trying to support the other. Balancing the care of both my parents was incredibly challenging for us all. Each day brought new hurdles—doctor’s appointments, managing medications, handling the emotional toll of watching both parents fade away from dementia.

My parents have always been my anchors in this world, advocating for me and supporting me through life’s ups and downs. And they were both dying, slowly but surely; they would soon have to answer God’s call home. There were times I felt like I was on the brink of breaking down. Truth be told, I did break down. I was just too busy to notice.

Closing my medical practice was another significant change. I had spent years building it, and it wasn’t easy to let go. But with my parents’ needs taking priority, I knew it was the right decision. Transitioning out of a career that was my life was incredibly tough. My patients were like my family. I cared for them, but they also cared for me, supporting me through these challenging times. It was more than closing practice; it was giving up an identity and saying goodbye to friends and family who happened to be my patients. What should I do next? How would I find a new purpose?

Amid all this chaos, I found solace in my faith. It became my anchor, keeping me grounded when everything else was spiraling out of control. Prayer, meditation, and leaning on my family, friends, and my spiritual community gave me the strength to face each day. I am profoundly grateful and blessed to have such a caring family, church community, and friends who have walked with me along this journey. My faith reminded me that even in the darkest times, there is a light that guides us and gives us hope.

I also learned the importance of self-care. It’s easy to neglect yourself when you’re a caretaker, but I realized that I couldn’t pour from an empty cup. Taking time for myself, whether it was a walk, a moment of quiet reflection, or exercising my creative energies, became crucial for my mental and emotional well-being.

Now, as I transition into this new phase of life—writing, publishing, blogging, and creating—I carry with me the lessons I’ve learned. Life can change in an instant, and we often have to adapt quickly. But amid rapid change, it’s essential to find moments of stillness and reflection. It’s in these moments that we can catch our breath, recalibrate, and find the strength to move forward.

To anyone feeling like they’re drinking from a fire hydrant, remember that it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. It’s OK to take a step back and ask for help. Lean on your faith, your community, and take care of yourself. You are stronger than you realize, and you will get through this. Embrace the changes, find your new path, and trust that even in the chaos, God has a plan and a purpose for you.