Recently while in New York City working with a ballet company- in between the afternoon and evening shows, I received a call that stopped everything. My mother had been admitted to the ICU and was in a sedated coma.
The city didn’t pause. The stage lights didn’t dim. Dancers warmed up for the evening performance. And yet, in that moment, my world was cleanly split in two.. One foot still in the work I loved, the other suddenly standing at the edge of fear and helplessness.
There are moments in adulthood that arrive quietly and change everything. This was one of them.
Suddenly, roles begin to shift. The person who once took care of scraped knees, school lunches, and late-night worries now needs care herself. While doctors and surgeons manage the medical crisis, the emotional weight settles squarely on the family often on the daughters. No matter how far away they happen to be when the call comes.
Coping with the Waiting.
The hardest part of a medical crisis like this is often the waiting. Waiting for updates. Waiting for stabilization. Waiting for permission to hope.
I learned quickly that coping didn’t mean staying calm all the time. It meant staying present. I focused on what was directly in front of me the next hour, the next breath, the next call. I let fear exist without letting it dictate every thought.
Small routines became anchors. Quiet moments at night. Checking in, even when there was nothing new to report. Reminding myself that distance didn’t equal absence, and love didn’t weaken just because I wasn’t physically there.
Supporting an Aging Parent with Dignity.
When the crisis settles into recovery, support takes on a different shape. It’s no longer about urgency it’s about consistency.
I’ve learned that supporting an aging parent doesn’t mean taking over their life. It means standing beside them with respect. Asking before assuming. Listening more than correcting. Helping without erasing their independence.
Support can look like discussing appointments together, helping track information so nothing feels overwhelming, or simply sitting quietly when words aren’t necessary. Sometimes the most meaningful support is presence without pressure.
A parent’s stay in the ICU changes you. It sharpens your understanding of how fragile and how resilient life can be.
This chapter has slowed me down. Love expressed through patience, steadiness, and showing up again and again is still love at its strongest.
Sometimes showing up means taking the call between performances, stepping into a quiet hallway, and holding space for someone you love no matter where you are in the world.
