Caregiving drained her finances—$17,000 medical debt

nearly $17,000 – After her mother’s health collapsed in 2014 and 2016, the author moved her in with her family in August 2016 and fought her way through years of unpaid and delayed medical bills. She says her out-of-pocket costs—some insurance-approved but not fully paid—left

In the early mornings, her schedule wasn’t built around getting work done. It was built around making sure her mother didn’t wake up in the wrong moment—confused, convinced it was time to get the boys ready for school. Even when her life had narrowed to caregiving, the bills kept expanding.

The author’s mother survived a subarachnoid aneurysm in 2014 that ruptured while she was driving on the West Virginia Turnpike. After stabilizing, she spent six months recovering with her daughter in South Carolina before returning to her townhouse in Charleston, West Virginia.

That return, the author says, was short-lived. A small stroke followed a year later, then a second, more serious stroke in 2016. Doctors told the family it was no longer safe for her mother to live alone.

The plan that saved their mother’s independence—moving her in—also changed their finances overnight. In August 2016, the author brought her mother into her home with her two sons, then 13 and 10, in Charleston, West Virginia. A decade later, she says she’s still struggling with the medical debt she accrued through the years.

Insurance didn’t cover everything, and the gaps were brutal

For a while, household expenses were manageable because her mother contributed a chunk of her pension to cover bills. But the author describes “a constant stream” of out-of-pocket medical expenses and copays. One example followed her mother’s stroke: her mother’s right hand became non-functional. leading the family to pursue specialized hand therapy.

At first, the author says they paid out of pocket because the insurance company questioned its medical necessity. When insurance later approved the treatment, they still refused to cover the number of sessions ordered. The author and her mother split those costs, whichever way the money allowed.

There were moments, she says, when she delayed an appointment to ensure the bill could be paid. Once coverage ceased, her mother finished the recommended course entirely out of pocket.

The author also describes compounding costs from occupational therapy, physical therapy, and an ongoing “endless array” of medical devices. And she points to indirect financial hits too—expenses that weren’t just bills, but interruptions to the ability to earn.

She worked for herself, but caregiving consumed the hours

For most of the past two decades, she says she worked for herself. When her mother moved in, she was doing freelance and part-time work “with very little margin for error,” and she writes that there was “zero way” she could have provided the care if she’d held a traditional full-time job.

Her days, she says, were squeezed into a narrow window around caregiving and parenting. When her boys were with her, the routine looked like this: 6:30 a.m. getting the kids ready for school and dropping them off; 8:45 a.m. making breakfast for her mother; 9:15 a.m. starting work; 11 a.m. breaking from work to eat lunch with her mother; 12 p.m. starting work again; 2:30 p.m. picking up the kids from school; 4 p.m. fixing snacks and helping with homework; 5 p.m. handling a doctor’s appointment if one was scheduled before or after work; 6 p.m. making dinner and eating with the family; 7 p.m. bonding with her mother by watching her game shows; and 9 p.m. starting work again—going late into the night until she couldn’t keep her eyes open.

She says the routine allowed about 4 hours and 15 minutes of daytime work. When the boys were at their father’s house, she had more time—only those were often the times she scheduled her mother’s appointments.

The money didn’t stretch. In 2018, she says she made $6,400 above the poverty level for a family of three, because she “barely had time to work.” Even with her mother’s pension contribution, she describes those years as a struggle.

Then her mother’s needs escalated—and the author’s health paid the price

In 2020, her mother suffered a bad fall and returned home in constant pain, requiring significantly more help. The author says her mother’s circadian rhythm was disrupted: she woke up confused in the middle of the night. convinced it was time to get the boys ready for school. and became considerably more anxious.

The author’s role shifted from caregiver to nurse. She writes that she was running on empty—sleep-deprived and in a constant state of fight-or-flight hyperarousal.

While Medicare didn’t cover many of the medical and self-care supplies she needed, the author says her income drained anyway. She believes she could have reduced costs and gotten more support earlier through hospice.

Her argument isn’t abstract. She says she delayed asking for hospice because she misunderstood the system—believing. in part. that hospice would mean the family was giving up. She stresses that hospice is not only for the actively dying; it can be used months earlier for patients experiencing rapid health decline. increased difficulty with daily tasks. and uncontrolled symptoms like chronic pain.

She also says that once in hospice care, Medicare, Medicaid, and most private insurers cover certain medical supplies, equipment, and personal care products. But in her household, the fear of what hospice would communicate kept the family from using it until her mother’s final three weeks of life.

For the author, that timing affected two things at once: her mother’s quality of life and her own finances.

Her mother died on March 16, 2022—then the trauma slowed repayment

Her mother died on March 16, 2022, at 3 a.m., while the author held her hand, stroked her hair, and sang to her.

Caring for her mother, she says, taught her lessons about human dignity, patience, and unconditional love. But the financial and emotional toll didn’t stop when the care work ended.

For months afterward. she says she suffered from awful nightmares and severe complex PTSD tied to the lack of understanding of what she’d seen and heard during her mother’s active dying—such as her mother’s agonal breathing. Paralyzed by trauma, loss, and what she describes as a sudden “black void” of time, she couldn’t work efficiently.

She says it took until 2025 to begin digging out of the financial hole.

The debt started climbing immediately after death—and her own health made it worse

Right after her mother’s death, her debt reached $16,972. She immediately tried to work hard to pay it down, but her own recent health issues, she says, made the debt grow again.

She acknowledges something that sits underneath her entire story: money can’t replace what care gives people. Still, she believes caregiving shouldn’t break someone financially.

It has now been four years since her mother died, and she says she is still struggling and looking for a way out of the financial hole.

The numbers in her account tell one story. The hours tell another. The combination—medical debt that didn’t wait for grief—shows up again and again in the details: the delayed appointments. the out-of-pocket hand therapy sessions. the supplies not covered by Medicare. the hospice request held back until the final weeks. and the reality that even after March 16. 2022. she wasn’t done paying.

With her mother’s medical alert bracelet still in the house, the author is left carrying both the memory of care and the cost of it—nearly $17,000 at the center, and the ongoing pressure of trying to recover.

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