With the right tools, families can provide care that aligns with their loved one’s needs, reduces conflict, and ensures that caregiving becomes a source of unity, not division. - Pexels
Aida could feel the tension in her shoulders rising as she watched her younger sister, Farah, energetically move around their mother’s living room.
“Mom should try to move around more. Maybe go outside for some fresh air,” Farah said, half-expecting to hear agreement from Aida. But Aida, seated quietly at the kitchen table, was biting her lip to keep herself from snapping.
Their mother, 72 and recovering from a stroke, sat slumped in the recliner, staring vacantly out the window. Aida was far-too familiar with this scene: Farah, breezing in for her monthly visits, full of enthusiasm and unsolicited advice, then leaving the caregiving burden squarely on Aida’s shoulders.
“She’s tired, Farah. Let her rest,” Aida finally responded, her voice sharper than intended.
Farah didn’t miss a beat.
“She’s tired because you’re letting her be too passive. You know that keeping her mobile is the only way to help her regain some independence, right?”
Aida stood up from the table, frustrated. “She doesn’t want to move around. Every time I ask her to walk a few steps, she says her legs hurt. The doctor said we should take it easy.”
Farah’s eyes narrowed.
“Mom’s never going to regain strength if we don’t push her a little. It’s for her own good.”
Aida knew Farah meant well, but it was easy for her to talk about pushing their mother when she didn’t have to be present every day. Farah would fly in from Singapore once every few weeks, eager to assert her opinions on what should be done and leave before any real progress – or fallout – occurred.
“You don’t know what it’s like here day to day,” Aida shot back, crossing her arms. “I’m the one handling everything. I’m the one who sees her struggling just to get up from bed. I’m the one she snaps at when she’s too tired to do more. She’s not your project, Farah.”
Farah’s face flushed. “I’m just trying to help, Aida. But if you keep coddling her, she’ll lose whatever mobility she has left. What’s your plan? To keep her sitting around until she can’t move at all?”
Just as Aida was about to respond, their brother, Zain, walked in, the keys to his new car jangling in his hand. He glanced between the two sisters, sensing the tension in the room.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Nothing,” Aida muttered, turning away.
Farah sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up.
“Aida thinks letting Mom sit around all day is helping. I think she needs to be more active. You’re the tiebreaker, Zain.”
Zain, as always, shrugged off the question. “I trust whatever you two decide. I’ve already sent the money to cover her bills, and even Aida’s salary this month. Just let me know if you need more.”
Aida wanted to scream. Zain always acted like his financial contribution was enough, like he had the luxury of staying detached because he was paying for the bills, and humiliatingly, her salary after she cut her working hours to care for their mother. He rarely spent time with them beyond a quick visit on weekends, and when he did, it was to ask her if she needed more cash or if she wanted something new for the house. He was never around to see her frustration or the pain in her eyes as she struggled with her daily routine.
Without training or information, many family members don't really know what caregiving for our loved ones should look like in their advanced years? - Pexels
Unresolved conflict
That afternoon had ended like so many others – with nothing resolved. Farah eventually stormed off, muttering about how things would fall apart without her input.
Zain stayed for a quick meal before heading back to his own life, leaving Aida to handle everything.
Later that evening, as Aida helped her mother into bed, the weight of it all settled on her. She wanted to cry but couldn’t muster the energy. The problem wasn’t just the physical caregiving – managing medications, preparing meals, or cleaning up after her mother. It was the emotional toll of constantly navigating her siblings’ differing approaches.
Farah believed their mother could regain her independence if only Aida would stop treating her like a fragile doll. In Farah’s eyes, pushing their mother was the key to her recovery. She envisioned their mother walking around the house, maybe even venturing out for a short stroll around the block.
Zain, on the other hand, was content to provide financial support, leaving the hands-on work to his sisters. To him, their mother was old and deserved to rest. He didn’t see the point in trying to restore her former strength when, in his eyes, her best years were behind her. She should be comfortable, enjoy her final years, and not be burdened with unnecessary effort.
Aida felt stuck in the middle, uncertain of the best path forward. She wanted to honour her mother’s dignity and independence, but every time she encouraged her to move more, it felt like she was causing unnecessary pain. When she let her rest, though, guilt gnawed at her, knowing that doing nothing might hasten her decline.
The price of not knowing
As Aida sat at the edge of her mother’s bed, adjusting her pillows, she realised that none of them really knew what they were doing. They were all just guessing, relying on instinct and emotion rather than actual caregiving knowledge. Farah’s philosophy of pushing for independence might work, but was it really the right approach for their mother?
Zain’s focus on comfort sounded compassionate, but was it neglectful to let their mother’s physical health slide?
The real problem, Aida knew, was that none of them had the proper training to make informed decisions.
These three siblings each had with different ideas about what caregiving should look like; but none of them had the expertise to know what was best.
Aida’s story is not unique. Many families in Malaysia face similar conflicts, not because they don’t care, but because they lack the proper caregiving knowledge to align their efforts. With over 80% of elderly care in Malaysia being provided by family members, it’s alarming to note that most of these caregivers receive little to no formal training.
A 2021 survey by the Malaysian Healthy Ageing Society revealed that nearly 70% of family caregivers feel unprepared for their role, leading to increased stress and tension within families.
Without adequate training, caregiving becomes a guessing game – one filled with well-meaning but misguided approaches that lead to frustration and family conflict. Most of the students that came for training did mention that their main source of family conflicts are differing caregiving methods and ideas.
For families like Aida’s, the solution isn’t just more effort – it’s proper caregiving education. With the right tools, families can provide care that aligns with their loved one’s needs, reduces conflict, and ensures that caregiving becomes a source of unity, not division.
By prioritising training for all, families can find common ground and offer care that respects both dignity and quality of life, ensuring that their loved ones receive the compassionate, coordinated care they deserve.
This article was contributed by The Malaysian Association for Social Care Professionals and Homes (Masoc Care). To find out more about caregiving training, visit https://www.masoc.care/kaigocaregivingcourses, or contact 011-3301 9681 / info@masoc.care
