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Last week, my kids and I drove from Michigan&#8217;s Upper Peninsula to the Milwaukee area for spring break. I have many fond memories of living there with my husband, Todd, more than a decade ago, before he got <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/what-is-als/">ALS</a>. It’s too difficult for him to travel now due to significant progression of the disease, but we still wanted our children to have a spring break trip, and I needed a <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/columns/accepting-help-certified-nursing-assistant-caregiving/">break from caregiving</a>.
Finding caregivers is always a challenge, but I managed to line up people to care for Todd for five days. My mom was available to help, and Todd’s sister came over from Minnesota, but he didn’t want either of them to assist with personal care. They made meals and fed him, adjusted his arms, and scratched itches, but I found others to help Todd in the bathroom.
Todd’s nighttime caregivers stayed late, and I had daytime caregivers arrive in the mornings, get him washed up, use the overhead lift to get him out of bed, and stay until after he sat on the toilet. A nurse friend volunteered to stop by later in the afternoons to help him in the bathroom for five minutes, and we paid another caregiver to stop by in the evenings.
[recommended-reading id=86101]
<h3>Should we stay or go?</h3>
Trip planning always feels tentative. If Todd or any one of the caregivers had gotten sick, I would&#8217;ve had to cancel. I <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/columns/help-kids-cope-death/">prepared our kids</a> for that possibility, but by the morning of our planned departure, the trip was still on — though I felt uneasy about leaving because Todd had a headache for a week and then developed <a href="https://www.yalemedicine.org/conditions/double-vision">double vision</a>.
Todd’s <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/columns/benefits-physical-therapy-als/">physical therapist</a> had been off the previous week, and we hoped Todd would feel better when the therapist was able to come again to work on Todd&#8217;s neck. I suggested a telehealth appointment with Todd’s primary care doctor, but Todd declined. He wanted to give it time. There was nothing I could do for my husband that his sister and my mom couldn’t handle, so the kids and I embarked on our six-hour drive south.
While en route, I asked my mom to make an appointment with Todd’s optometrist, but they couldn’t get him in for several weeks. I called my optometrist, but she was booking three months out. She put him on her waitlist but suggested that Todd see an ophthalmologist. I left a message for the only ophthalmologist in town. The next morning I received a call from the office.
“It usually takes months to get an appointment,” the scheduler said, “but we just had a cancellation. We can get him in next Monday.”
“We’ll take it,” I said, and then I texted Todd. After a couple more days of double vision, he was ready for a medical examination. My mom and his sister had been putting patches over one of his eyes, but he was getting frustrated.
<h3>Medicine for my soul</h3>
The kids and I had a packed schedule of big-city activities. We raced go-carts, hit balls at Luxe Golf Bays, and jumped around at a trampoline park. We walked through the indoor gardens of the Mitchell Park Domes Horticulture Conservatory, went shopping, ate at restaurants, and attended ComedySportz, an interactive improv comedy experience. We drove down to Chicago for a day, where we walked the Magnificent Mile and went up 94 floors to the 360 Chicago Observation Deck for a spectacular view of the city.
For much of the trip I was able to compartmentalize my life and not think too much about ALS, but I got teary-eyed when old friends asked how Todd was doing. I told them about the latest development with his eyes.
“He’s discouraged,” I said. “His vision was one thing he had left.”
I kept checking in with Todd through text. “Any updates on your health?” I asked.
“Still have ALS; double vision,” he replied.
On the trip, I had <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/columns/bittersweet-family-life-games/">bittersweet moments</a> when we visited some of the places Todd and I used to go. I have fond memories of happy times, but I’m also reminded of what we lost — what we would&#8217;ve had if Todd hadn&#8217;t gotten ALS. But conversations with old friends and the time away from the tedium of daily caregiving was medicine for my soul.
We packed so much activity into five days that by the time we headed for home, I was ready to leave the busyness and traffic of the city and return to my quiet, homebound life in the country.
It was good to see Todd again. I can’t miss him when I’m always with him. And Todd was happy that his sister catered to his tastes, preparing meals that no one else in our family likes, such as sausage gravy over biscuits.
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Note: <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/">ALS News Today</a> is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/als-diagnosis/">diagnosis</a>, or <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/approved-treatments-for-als/">treatment</a>. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of ALS News Today or its parent company, BioNews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to ALS.

Time away from caregiving for my husband was restorative

Even before my late husband, Jeff, was <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/als-diagnosis/">diagnosed with ALS</a> in 2018, we approached his unusual and alarming <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/symptoms-of-als/">symptoms</a> as a team. He’d shared with me from the beginning his painless but mysterious foot drop, and together our concerns grew when he began to slur his speech. From that point forward, we braved his eventual <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/what-is-als/">ALS</a> diagnosis as partners. We each had a role to play and stayed united in making sure that he — and we— <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/living-with-als-2/">lived as well as we could with ALS</a>.
I credit Jeff for that approach. As a former federal law enforcement agent, Jeff was calm, strategic, and methodical in a crisis, and ALS was no different. He was intentional about how he wanted us to live during his illness and pragmatic about preparing for the future.
Living with Jeff’s ALS brought us closer in almost every way: We laughed more often and more easily, cried together for the first time, and then dozens more times. We marveled at the beauty of simple things, particularly nature, in ways beyond our comprehension before ALS. But for all the ways that Jeff and I deepened our bond while he was living with ALS, there is one thing I never shared with him: my fears and challenges regarding <a href="https://www.iamals.org/get-help/caregivers-start-here/">caregiving</a>.
[recommended-reading id=79305]
<h3>An evolution in understanding</h3>
<figure id="attachment_90468" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-90468" style="width: 285px" class="wp-caption alignright"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="wp-image-90468 size-medium" src="https://alsnewstoday.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/christmas-day-walk-2019-285x380.jpg" alt="A man, woman, and dog pose on a wooden walkway in front of a lake. The couple looks each other in the face as the photo is taken. They're wearing winter clothing, and the man is sitting in a power wheelchair, covered in a blanket. Next to them is a dog sitting with his tongue out. It's a picturesque winter scene." width="285" height="380" data-wp-pid="90468" /><figcaption id="caption-attachment-90468" class="wp-caption-text">Jeff Sarnacki, Juliet Taylor, and their dog, Rudder, enjoy a walk during Christmas week in 2019. (Courtesy of Juliet Taylor)</figcaption></figure>
During our family’s life with ALS, I always thought that Jeff had the far harder of the roles between patient and caregiver. I still do. He was the one whose once-strong cyclist’s body was deteriorating, and who dealt with daily losses of function and freedom. He was the one who had to rely on help for nearly everything, surely a major blow to someone who’d mowed lawns, changed lightbulbs, cooked gourmet meals, and otherwise tended to people he loved all of his life.
So, as Jeff’s caregiver, I felt crushing guilt admitting to myself, to him, or to others that it was a challenging role. And, therefore, I usually didn’t.
Caregiving, for us, meant nightly bathroom trips at 3 a.m. that took 90 minutes round-trip via a <a href="https://www.hoyerlift.com/">Hoyer lift</a> from our bed about 20 feet away, with me sleeping at Jeff’s feet while he used the restroom. It meant cleaning catheters and feeding tubes and cough machines multiple times a day. It meant holding my husband’s body steady on a bath chair with one hand while bathing him with the other.
Caregiving meant <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/perspective-what-i-learned-in-13-years-of-als-caregiving/">dressing and undressing</a> his paralyzed body each morning and night. It meant calling 911 when Jeff fell and I couldn&#8217;t move his 265-pound frame. It meant, for both of us, doing all of these things while utterly exhausted as day and night blended together.
When Jeff would text me, &#8220;I am sorry you have to do this for me,&#8221; I&#8217;d always have the same response: &#8220;You would do it for me.&#8221; And his eyes would brim with tears and he would nod. We both knew he&#8217;d do the same if our roles were reversed. And so, with just a few words, we understood each other.
<figure id="attachment_90470" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-90470" style="width: 260px" class="wp-caption alignleft"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="wp-image-90470" style="margin-right: 10px;" src="https://alsnewstoday.com/wp-content/uploads/2024/03/jeff-julie-rudder-600x800.jpg" alt="A man, woman, and dog inside the living room of a house. The man and woman are both smiling and have their hands on the dog. The man is leaning into the photo from the right side of the frame, while the woman is in the center, squatting down to be at the dog's level. The dog looks off to the left side of the frame." width="260" height="347" data-wp-pid="90470" /><figcaption id="caption-attachment-90470" class="wp-caption-text">Jeff Sarnacki, Juliet Taylor, and their dog, Rudder, pose for a photo in the summer of 2019. (Courtesy of Juliet Taylor)</figcaption></figure>
It’s only with the passage of time — Jeff will have been gone four years this May — and the kindness and encouragement from connecting with <a href="https://www.iamals.org/stories/">other ALS families</a> that I’ve been able to say that caregiving was difficult. Yet, it still feels like a betrayal of Jeff and an insult to those living with ALS to admit that caregiving is hard, because I recognize that living with ALS is harder.
There is a movement afoot in the <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/forums">ALS community</a> to recognize the stresses on caregivers and to find and create more support for them. We are encouraging caregivers and their loved ones with ALS to have more honest conversations, released from the guilt that I and probably so many others felt, and feel.
I’m evolving to understand that two things can be true at once: Caregiving for Jeff was the most meaningful, rewarding, and loving thing I have ever done, and it was also the most challenging, both mentally and physically. I would give anything to have him back and would care for him for 100 more years if I had the opportunity. But in the throes of ALS, like thousands of families are right now, each day brings new fears, new demands, and new difficulties.
ALS brought Jeff and I closer, yes, but I wish we’d talked more about our respective roles as a person living with ALS and a caregiver. I know that Jeff was protecting me from worrying about him, and I was doing the same for him. While it was a logical decision at the time, designed to shield each other in a time of crisis, I know that our love and our relationship could have borne the discussion.
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Note: <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/">ALS News Today</a> is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/approved-treatments-for-als/">treatment</a>. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of ALS News Today or its parent company, BioNews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to ALS.

Why talking about caregiving is hard — but so important

Once when <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/columns/parenting-children-rare-diseases-family-support/">my daughter, Sara</a>, was a baby, I made a mistake that led to a moment of sheer panic.
After setting up her jogger stroller next to the car and strapping her in, I dug through the diaper bag that was still in the vehicle to get some sunscreen. When I turned around, the stroller was gone. I looked up to see Sara rolling backward into the street.
Sara waved at me as I ran after her. She was fine, but I was shaken. After that, I always double-checked the stroller&#8217;s parking brake, and I never made that mistake again.
[recommended-reading id=83835]
I’ve had similar feelings after I’ve made mistakes while taking care of my husband, Todd, who has <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/what-is-als/">ALS</a>. He&#8217;s paralyzed and uses a <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/columns/breathing-easier-support-noninvasive-ventilator/">noninvasive ventilator for breathing support</a>. He’s completely dependent on me and his other <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/columns/accepting-help-certified-nursing-assistant-caregiving/">caregivers</a> to eat, use the toilet, get into bed, and turn during the night.
Every morning, I use an <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zie_EMU6LnI">overhead lift</a> with a transfer sling to get him out of bed and into his wheelchair. We’ve had the lift for more than five years, so I’ve hooked up the straps and transferred him thousands of times. It&#8217;s become automatic, like driving a car. But a couple months ago, I made a mistake when I neglected to secure one of the straps tightly to the lift.
As I picked Todd up off his bed, the unsecured strap slipped off and Todd tumbled down. Fortunately, I hadn&#8217;t slid him over too far yet, and he landed on a soft mattress. Todd could&#8217;ve been seriously injured if the strap had come off while he was somewhere between the bed and the wheelchair, or if it had happened while I was transferring him between the wheelchair and the toilet.
<h3>Sounding the alarm</h3>
I’ve made other mistakes, too, such as one night when I forgot to plug in his noninvasive ventilator. His lungs were particularly weak at the time, as he was probably fighting a bug. He&#8217;d been getting breathing support in the bathroom while his nighttime caregiver cleaned him up. As I typically do, I disabled the alarm that incessantly chirps while the ventilator is on battery mode, but when I moved it back near his bed, I neglected to plug it back in. Unbeknownst to either of us or his nighttime caregiver, the ventilator was operating on battery mode all night long.
Todd called for me in the morning earlier than usual. I went to check on him, and the machine&#8217;s alarm was sounding. The alarm often goes off if Todd&#8217;s breathing slows down or stops, or if his mouth gapes open and the machine detects a strong leak. In those situations, Todd wakes up and takes deep breaths until the machine quiets down. But in this instance, the alarm wouldn&#8217;t stop.
“Is it plugged in?” Todd asked.
“No!” I responded as I plugged it back in. “The battery had only 10 minutes left.”
I was horrified. If it&#8217;d run out, Todd wouldn&#8217;t have been able to call for me. His lungs are much too weak to project his voice, and if he tries, he loses his tidal volume and his breathing becomes increasingly shallow until he stops breathing entirely.
Every mistake like these has served as a wake-up call for me. I&#8217;m careful now to always check the straps of the transfer sling and the ventilator power cord, and I haven’t made those mistakes again. But I wonder, what mistake might I make next? So many things can go wrong for someone who&#8217;s dependent on imperfect people and machines.
In another incident, a hose popped off Todd’s ventilator, just moments after I stepped away for a minute. When I returned, the machine&#8217;s alarm was sounding, and Todd had a look of panic in his eyes. I realized he wasn’t getting air. I plugged the hose back in, and Todd caught his breath.
“I’m going to be the one who kills you,” I told him.
“ALS is going to kill me,” he replied. “Anything else is just [$*%@] that happens.”
<hr />
Note: <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/">ALS News Today</a> is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/als-diagnosis/">diagnosis</a>, or <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/approved-treatments-for-als/">treatment</a>. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of ALS News Today or its parent company, BioNews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to ALS.

Why making mistakes as an ALS caregiver can be unsettling

A couple days ago, as I was dishing up our family dinner, I popped a piece of chicken in my mouth and accidentally aspirated, drawing a small piece of chicken or phlegm into my lungs. I tried to cough it up, but wasn’t getting it out. I winced and pounded on my chest with the back of my fist. My face must have been beet red.
“Oh, boy,” my husband, Todd, said with a look of concern. “Are you OK?”
I slumped down to the floor and sat with my knees up and back against the wall, and I kept coughing to clear my windpipe.
“Try leaning to your side,” Todd said.
I did that, and my cough was much more effective when I wasn&#8217;t fighting gravity. A few more coughs, and I was OK.
“That always helps me,” Todd went on to say. “Sometimes I aspirate when I’m on my back in bed, and I have my <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/columns/accepting-help-certified-nursing-assistant-caregiving/">nighttime caregivers</a> turn me onto my side, and it goes away.”
Todd has been living with <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/what-is-als/">ALS</a> for the past <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/columns/trying-see-beauty-after-13-years-with-diagnosis-als/">13 years</a>, and he&#8217;s paralyzed with weak lung function. I could write a book with all the little things we’ve learned over the years to take care of him, and a few of those things have carried over to help me in my everyday life.
[recommended-reading id=83155]
<h3>Broader applications</h3>
After Todd lost his ability to walk and needed to use a power wheelchair, his feet would swell with <a href="https://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/edema/symptoms-causes/syc-20366493#:~:text=Edema%20is%20swelling%20caused%20by,and%20pregnancy%20can%20cause%20edema.">edema</a>. He also had an old ankle injury from high school wrestling, and one of his feet tended to roll. An occupational therapist applied <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P221MDyuhFY">kinesiology tape</a> to keep that injured ankle from rolling, and the swelling in that foot decreased. She applied KT Tape to the other foot, and it reduced the edema there, too. I’ve since used KT Tape myself when I have a sore wrist or other joint pain. My son and daughter have used it, too.
After Todd first got his wheelchair, we purchased an accessible van so he could still go to church and other family outings. We even traveled a bit when he was still strong enough to tolerate the van ride. He doesn’t get out much anymore, but his van is still useful for me. With the ramp that folds down from the back, I can easily slide trash cans in to transport them to the waste transfer station. It’s like having a truck, but I don’t have to lift anything too high to get it into the vehicle.
<a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/columns/dog-companion-lessons-learned/">Our dog, Comet,</a> gets to use Todd’s van, too. Every few months when I take him to the groomer, or if he needs to go to the vet, I put his dog bed in the back of the van where Todd would normally park. Comet walks up the ramp and lies on his bed, and we&#8217;re on our way.
Later that evening after I&#8217;d aspirated on the chicken, my daughter was packing her school lunch for the next day, and she popped a chip in her mouth. She swallowed wrong and started coughing. I told her about her dad&#8217;s advice, which she tried, too. It worked.
Have you come across any caregiving tips that apply to other situations? Please share in the comments.
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Note: <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/">ALS News Today</a> is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/als-diagnosis/">diagnosis</a>, or <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/approved-treatments-for-als/">treatment</a>. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of ALS News Today or its parent company, BioNews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to ALS.

Some caregiving tips apply to more than ALS

I’ve read dozens, if not more, of the kind of column I’m about to write: first-person narratives that offer advice to one&#8217;s younger self, full of lessons learned from difficult life experiences. Before my late husband, Jeff, was <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/als-diagnosis/">diagnosed with ALS</a>, I devoured these columns, always looking for some relatable wisdom I could use to better find my way in the world.
Jeff’s diagnosis <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/columns/how-love-conquered-fear-after-husbands-als-diagnosis/">changed me so much</a> that I now divide my life into two distinct periods: before and after <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/what-is-als/">ALS</a>. Once ALS hit our family, all of my collected quotations and inspiring phrases went out the window. My go-to phrase in early adulthood — &#8220;Do one thing every day that scares you&#8221; — felt like a mockery. I was doing multiple things a day that <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/columns/facing-fears-als-show-us-whats-important/">scared me</a>.
Living with Jeff’s ALS meant I had to learn new ways of being, but I didn’t realize what they were until the &#8220;after.&#8221; Following are five things I&#8217;d tell myself before ALS entered our world:
<h3>1. Give up my people-pleasing tendencies</h3>
One trait I developed in my pre-ALS life was a broad desire to meet others’ needs, to make as many people happy, or at least not unhappy, as possible. <a href="https://www.psychologytoday.com/us/blog/living-finesse/202003/what-is-people-pleasing">People-pleasing</a> is impossible to achieve when <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/living-with-als-2/">living with ALS</a> because it contradicts the needs of our loved ones.
Meeting Jeff’s <a href="https://iamals.org/get-help/caregivers-start-here/">caregiving</a> needs in a way that provided him with dignity and safety meant that other things had to give. In becoming Jeff’s advocate, it became, as a matter of necessity, much easier to embrace the things we needed and to say no to things that didn’t serve him. Prioritizing in this way gave us focus and clarity, gave him better care, and brought me greater peace.
[recommended-reading id=80871]
<h3>2. Expand my heart to total strangers</h3>
This may seem counterintuitive after No. 1, but it&#8217;s just as true. When living with ALS, we were offered kindness, support, and love from people we’d never met and may never see again. A local hospice volunteer brought me a rose on Mother’s Day and we talked for an hour in my driveway. That morning, I never would&#8217;ve seen that conversation coming or known that I needed it. I cannot recall our exact words, but that time is one of the beautiful moments I remember from life with Jeff’s ALS.
I believe there&#8217;s a recognition of suffering and loss that binds many of us together. Some of the most beautiful gestures came from people who’d experienced this before and wanted to offer comfort, to let us know that we weren&#8217;t alone. One gift left to me by that time in life was that I’m now moved to do this for others, with no agenda or expectation of return.
<h3>3. Give myself and my loved ones grace</h3>
Early on in Jeff’s ALS, my first <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/columns/who-cares-for-als-caregiver/">caregiving task</a> was to put on his shoes in the morning, as his earliest <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/symptoms-of-als-2/">symptoms</a> kept him from doing so by himself. I remember one morning inadvertently putting his shoes on the wrong feet and him becoming upset with me, something I still feel bad about because it was — for both of us — about so much more than shoes. For him, it was the first physical loss, and for me, it was the recognition that my strong husband could no longer do this for himself and must have felt great sadness.
Rather than focus on the mistake I made, or his reaction, I learned in that moment — and many that followed — that so often, the feelings surrounding mistakes and missteps are often about more than the actual event.
<h3>4. Laughter is healing</h3>
Many funny things — hundreds, maybe thousands — happened during our time living with Jeff’s ALS. We laughed every day: at the dogs, at the squirrels, at the often ridiculous and frustrating situations that ALS placed us in. While the latter weren’t funny per se, we had the choice to laugh or cry together. Since we did plenty of crying, laughter, when available, always felt better.
<h3>5. Be present</h3>
Days with ALS were long and exhausting for both of us, one day spilling into the next through many sleepless nights. Scary and sad moments abounded, but so did <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/columns/gift-presence-brought-meaning-love-life-als/">quiet moments</a> when it was just me and Jeff sitting outside watching the birds, learning to communicate without speech.
ALS didn’t change the fact that he was a wonderful husband, loving and loyal. During those quiet moments, we could soak in the love that we felt for each other, a feeling that helped empower us for tough moments ahead.
<figure id="attachment_81791" aria-describedby="caption-attachment-81791" style="width: 285px" class="wp-caption aligncenter"><img loading="lazy" decoding="async" class="wp-image-81791 size-medium" src="https://alsnewstoday.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/01/jeff-julie-beach-285x380.jpg" alt="A couple stands on the beach in the Dominican Republic wearing shorts and sandals. The woman is hugging the man, and both are smiling at the camera. " width="285" height="380" data-wp-pid="81791" /><figcaption id="caption-attachment-81791" class="wp-caption-text">Jeff and Juliet on the beach in the Dominican Republic in December 2019, just over a month after Jeff&#8217;s ALS diagnosis. (Courtesy of Juliet Taylor)</figcaption></figure>
<hr />
Note: <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/">ALS News Today</a> is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or <a href="https://alsnewstoday.com/approved-treatments-for-als/">treatment</a>. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of ALS News Today or its parent company, BioNews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to ALS.

Tag: caregiving

Time away from caregiving for my husband was restorative

Why talking about caregiving is hard — but so important

Why making mistakes as an ALS caregiver can be unsettling

Some caregiving tips apply to more than ALS

5 Things I’d Tell My Pre-ALS Self That I Learned From Caregiving