Saturday, May 2, 2026

Running Errands

 


A day in the life of a paid caregiver

I keep hearing that family caregivers are “basically being paid to run errands.”

Running errands?

I know what “running errands” looks like to you.
Let me show you what it looks like to me.

For the first 18 years of my daughter’s life, I made nothing doing these so-called errands. I also had to keep my family’s income under a certain level so she could qualify for the insurance that keeps her alive.

Here’s a typical day.

1. 5:00 AM – Wake up
First errand: make sure she’s still alive.
Sudden death isn’t theoretical—it’s a possibility every single day.
I disconnect her from overnight feeds and monitors.

2. Morning care
She’s 21, incontinent, and cannot walk, talk, or use her hands.
I change her brief.
She gets a full wipe-down or shower—she cannot roll or assist.
I dry her completely and dress her from head to toe, lifting and moving her like an infant in a full-grown body.

3. Medications – Round 1
I prepare and administer 10 medications through a G-tube because she cannot chew or swallow.
Then clean up, count meds, and sterilize supplies.
If there’s time, I might use the bathroom. Brushing my teeth? Optional.

4. Morning routine continues
Brush her teeth. Wash her face. Apply deodorant.
Dress her fully—shoes, socks, braces.
Lift and reposition her multiple times.

5. Transfers
Lift her onto the couch for another brief change.
Then into her wheelchair, secured and positioned.

6. Transportation
Roll her to the van.
Bend and secure her—multiple tie-downs.
Drive her to her day program so she can interact with peers.
Yes. Socialization. Another “errand.”

7. The 5 hours I’m “off”
This is what I do while I’m technically clocked out:

  • Inventory medications

  • Run to multiple pharmacies

  • Grocery shop

  • Meet with coordinators, doctors, and social workers

  • Try to squeeze in 3–4 loads of laundry

8. Pickup
Drive back.
Unload her from the van—more bending and lifting.
Transfer her into the house, guiding every step.

9. Afternoon care
Immediate toileting.
Prepare and administer 5 more medications through her G-tube.
Flush with sterile water.

10. Continuous care
For the next several hours:

  • Laundry

  • Sterilizing medical equipment

  • Managing supplies

  • Constant supervision

  • another g tube feeding

I monitor her at all times to prevent choking, falling, aspiration, or injury.
Every movement. Every need. That’s me.

11. Evening care
Full shower or bed bath.
Dry, dress, hygiene.
Yes—I lift her arms to apply deodorant. Because she cannot.

12. Medications – Round 3
I prepare and administer 13 nighttime medications
for epilepsy, tremors, neuropathy, rigidity, autonomic dysfunction, dystonia, and more.

13. Night setup
I stay with her until she falls asleep.
Hook up overnight feeding and hydration.
Position her carefully so if she chokes, she has a better chance of not aspirating.

14. End of day
I clock out.
And say a quiet prayer that she will still be here in the morning.


So yeah… “running errands.”

If by errands you mean:

  • Keeping a human being alive 24/7

  • Performing skilled medical care

  • Doing the work of nurses, CNAs, therapists, and case managers

  • With no backup and no real time off

Then sure.

Errands.

Let’s talk about what this actually costs

I’m paid $30 an hour.

Sounds decent—until you hear the truth.

I provide care 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
But I’m only allowed to be paid for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week.

The other 128 hours a week?
That’s what they call “supporting.”

No benefits.
No Social Security contributions.
No overtime.
No backup.

I’m paid for 40 hours of a 168-hour job.

Now let’s compare that to what this level of care would cost elsewhere:

  • Skilled nursing facility: $250–$500 per day (low end)

  • Higher-acuity care like this: $500–$1,000+ per day if she needs nothing but to lie there

  • Hospital-level care? Thousands per day

So instead of costing the system $15,000–$30,000+ per month,
families like mine are doing it for a fraction of that—
while absorbing most of the labor, risk, and responsibility for free.


Final thought

If this is what they call “running errands,”
then the problem isn’t the cost of caregiving.

It’s how little they understand the people doing it and the people who need it. the lack of empathy and common sense here is mind boggling.

If this is errands, uhh you;re welcome.

Running Errands

  A day in the life of a paid caregiver I keep hearing that family caregivers are “basically being paid to run errands.” Running errands? I ...