By Ethan Kassel
Introduction
As a professional in the eldercare field, I’ve spent years helping families navigate the complexities of aging, caregiving, and our healthcare system. I’ve counseled adult children through emotional decisions, worked with hospitals on discharge plans, and advocated for better communication across the continuum of care. I thought I understood what families go through—until it was my turn.
Recently, I traveled from New York to California to be with my parents during a planned surgery. I expected to be helpful, but I quickly realized how difficult it can be to know what to expect after surgery for my mother.
Even being in one of the best institutions in the country, the experience was challenging—reminding me that no system is immune to breakdowns in communication or moments of uncertainty.
Seeing the System as a Son, Not a provider
From the moment I stepped into the hospital, I saw everything with new eyes—not as a provider, but as a son. The clinical language, the constant rotation of professionals, the gaps in communication—all things I used to explain to clients—suddenly became my reality. I found myself frustrated, overwhelmed, and deeply emotional. This wasn’t someone else’s parent. This was mine.
The Discharge Process: A Test of Patience and Advocacy
When discharge day arrived, I saw firsthand how difficult the transition can be, even when you know what questions to ask. Discharge instructions were rushed. Medications were changed without full explanation. Arranging for post-acute rehab^1 felt like solving a puzzle with half the pieces missing.
Even with my experience, I had to fight for clarity. I thought about all the families who don’t know what to ask, who accept what’s given, and who leave the hospital with a sinking feeling that something’s not right.
What I Learned
This experience changed me. It didn’t teach me something new about the eldercare system— It reminded me that behind every intake form is someone overwhelmed by the challenge of navigating elder care for someone they love, regardless of how competent the provider, families often feel lost^1. Good communication is everything. And that empathy isn’t a bonus—it’s the core of this work.
Closing Thoughts
If you’re a fellow professional in elder care, I encourage you to walk a day in the shoes of your clients. Ask more questions. Assume less. Slow down. And if you’re an adult child going through it yourself^1, know this: it’s okay to be overwhelmed, and you’re not alone.
Being both provider and participant gave me a deeper appreciation for the families we serve—and a renewed commitment to making the process a little more human.