I became a carer for my mum and my sister. It was a privilege

All her life, Lynn had watched her mother be a primary carer for her sister. When her mother’s health declined, she promised to take over.

Lynn Taylor (left) with her sisters Maureen (centre) and Michelle (right), and their mother. Source: Supplied / Lynn Taylor

My mother Margaret was a fiercely independent woman who raised four children on her own.

At the age of 80, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. One week before her birthday, she was admitted to hospital to have a lump removed from her breast.

Mum faced her diagnosis like she faced life - headfirst. If you got knocked down, you got back up and you kept moving forward. She completed her radiation treatment as an outpatient, always leaving the hospital with a kind word to the staff and a glint in her eye.

Lynn's mother on her final day of radiation treatment following a breast cancer diagnosis. Source: Supplied / Lynn Taylor

Life in Mum’s eyes appeared quite normal. It was a different story for family members looking in, as we realised a noticeable change in her memory. Within six months, it was confirmed she had dementia.

I’m the eldest child, followed by my sister Maureen, my brother Alan and my sister Michelle.

Even at the age of 80, the diagnosis was a shock to Michelle and I. Mum was a powerhouse.

You see, all my life I had been taught by mum what being a carer truly meant.

Quite rapidly, Mum's short term memory deteriorated. She could tell you what she did in 1950 but couldn’t remember that she had called me 10 minutes prior to ask a question.

Her physical appearance also changed dramatically. This impacted her mobility and her previously diagnosed chronic obstructive pulmonary disease (COPD), which is a chronic lung disease.

Within one year, Michelle and I became Mum’s carers and worked together in the role.

Caring for Mum started slowly - a meal here and there, and taking her to appointments. That developed into preparing all of her meals, administering medications and navigating the government’s ‘My Aged Care’ system to access in-home help for cleaning and showering.

Michelle and I met every need Mum had.

I saw caring for her as a mark of respect - it was something I would have never considered not doing. You see, all my life I had been taught by Mum what being a carer truly meant.

My sister Maureen was born with a moderate intellectual disability and lives with epilepsy. Mum was Maureen’s primary carer and strongest advocate.

Until her late 70s, Mum was extremely active, still involved in community life and still caring for Maureen. By then, she was also the primary carer for Maureen’s partner Robert, who also lives with disability.

When Michelle and I started caring for Mum, we also stepped in to care for Maureen and Robert.

Lynn (right) with her sisters Michelle (left) and Maureen (centre). Source: Supplied / Lynn Taylor

I had always known Mum’s greatest concern was the welfare of Maureen, and that she would always be cared for. As Mum’s health deteriorated, she would often seek reassurance that Maureen would be okay.

That reassurance then changed to a promise - that Michelle and I would care for Maureen and Robert together and ensure they were able to live their best lives together. Promises were made, reassurances given.

We lost Mum in April this year. I am extremely grateful that Michelle and I were able to care for her at home until the day before her passing. It was the honour she deserved.

Lynn's mother on the last holiday the family took together. Source: Supplied / Lynn Taylor

Being a carer has its challenges; it can be far from plain sailing. But for me, being a carer isn’t a burden or sacrifice - it’s a privilege to be able to assist in someone’s life knowing that it’s having a positive impact.

When becoming a carer for a loved one, I feel that it’s important to try and hold onto the role you have within the family.

Be the family member first: I am Maureen’s sister, and I care.