Still Moving
Seven Years, Two Parents,
and a Body That Was Failing First
My father, given six months to live, sat up.
My mother, living with dementia, walked.
Because my hands had no strength,
I could only rest the weight of my palm — and stroke, slowly.
The constraint became the method.
I live with Kennedy's disease, a progressive neuromuscular condition. My legs are weak; my grip is fading. With that body, I cared for my bedridden father and my mother with dementia — at home, for seven years.
Because my hands had no strength, I could not massage; I could only rest the weight of my palm on their skin and stroke, slowly. Because my legs would not carry me away, I could not run from it. So I continued. Every day.
This is not a story of miracles. It is a record of methods and their limits, written by someone who refuses to claim a cure.
Touch as Technique
Warm your hands before touching. Stroke slowly, upward. No special skill — only the boring discipline of every single day.
Care as Engineering
Vitals and daily records in one shared spreadsheet, seen by doctor, nurse, and care manager alike — and AI as a strategist at the kitchen table.
An Ethics of Care
Refusing to call caregiving "devotion." Refusing self-sacrifice. Forgiving yourself for the day you shouted at your parent.
Not only for the one doing the caring.
People in the middle of caregiving often have no strength left even to look for a book that might help them. So this book is written both for them — and for the people who are worried about them.
If you are the caregiver: for the person who has become someone's last line of defense — practical methods you can use tomorrow, and reasons to stop blaming yourself. No pep talks.
If you are worried about a caregiver: when you find yourself thinking "I wish I could do something," this book can be that something. Readers choose it as a gift for family members in the middle of care.
In paperback, or on your screen.
I hope something in this book becomes a hint for someone.
This book is a personal record based on the author's experience. It is not medical advice and makes no claims of therapeutic effect. For decisions about health and medical care, please consult a physician.