Called to Respond: A Caregiver's Journey Through Fear and Faith
Called to Respond: A Caregiver's Journey Through Fear and Faith
By Angel, Founder of AMC Rise and Thrive
🌿
Greetings, Beautiful Souls
I hope this message finds you wrapped in comfort, covered in
grace, and reminded that even in seasons of uncertainty, you are never walking
alone.
Life has a way of settling us into routines just long enough
for us to think, "Maybe we've found our rhythm."
Then, without warning, everything shifts.
The thermometer beeps.
Plans change.
Fear whispers.
And suddenly, we find ourselves standing at the crossroads
between panic and peace.
Recently, our family found ourselves standing in that exact
place.
After all the preparation, all the appointments, all the
paperwork, and finally reaching the milestone of my mom receiving her CAR
T-cell therapy, it felt like we could exhale just a little.
Things were going well.
Until they weren't.
Or at least, until it looked like they weren't.
Yet what I learned over the last twenty-four hours is
something I hope never to forget:
Preparation is not the absence of faith.
Sometimes, preparation is faith in action.
❤️ When a
Tiny Number Means Everything
If you've ever taken your temperature, you know that 100.4
degrees doesn't sound particularly alarming.
Most people would think, "It's just a slight fever."
Maybe take a nap.
Drink some water.
Check it again later.
But when you become a caregiver after CAR T-cell therapy, that
number carries a completely different meaning.
Before my mom came home, I was given instructions.
Check her vitals at 7 a.m.
Check them again at 3 p.m.
Then once more at 11 p.m.
Honestly, when they first explained everything, they had
discussed checking every four hours, so hearing that it would be three times
daily almost felt manageable.
I could do that.
I had charts.
Instructions.
Emergency phone numbers.
Medication schedules.
I was prepared.
At least as prepared as someone can be for something they've
never done before.
Yesterday afternoon, I completed her 3 p.m. vitals check.
The thermometer read 100.1.
I paused.
That doesn't seem right, I thought.
So, I checked again.
100.2.
Something in me immediately said, "Call."
Not because it had officially reached the number.
Not because anyone had told me to panic.
But because experience had already begun teaching me that
caregivers often notice subtle changes before they become major problems.
The nurse advised me to wait an hour and recheck.
So, I did.
One hour later:
100.4.
Exactly the number they had warned us about.
I called back.
The response was immediate.
"Get her here as soon as possible."
No hesitation.
No waiting.
No second-guessing.
🌻 Trusting
What You Know
Twenty-five minutes later, we arrived at the clinic.
Her temperature had climbed to 100.8.
Blood cultures were drawn.
Antibiotics were started.
Plans shifted.
The hospital was expecting us.
Admission paperwork began.
And my mom cried.
I understood why.
No one wants to go back to the hospital.
No one wants another interruption.
No one wants another complication.
Especially after finally feeling like progress is being made.
But one of the things we had discussed repeatedly before CAR
T-cell therapy was this possibility.
Fever.
Neurotoxicity.
Low blood pressure.
Seizures.
Confusion.
There were risks.
We knew that.
And while none of those possibilities are easy to hear, I
remember thinking:
Out of all the side effects we were told about...
I will take the fever.
Every single time.
Because fever means we noticed.
We caught it.
We responded.
There was no delay.
No ignoring it.
No hoping it would go away on its own.
We followed instructions.
We trusted the professionals.
We acted.
Sometimes courage doesn't look dramatic.
Sometimes courage looks like making the phone call.
Sometimes wisdom looks like refusing to wait.
Sometimes faith sounds less like, "God will handle
it," and more like, "God gave me these instructions for a
reason."
I think we often separate faith and action.
But I don't believe they're meant to be separated.
Noah built the ark.
David picked up the stones.
Esther approached the king.
Faith moves.
Faith responds.
Faith prepares.
💪 The
Weight Caregivers Carry
After settling into the hospital and relaying all the
necessary information—medications, dosage times, symptoms, recent events—I
began making phone calls to family.
I gently told my mom not to call everyone herself.
Not because she had done anything wrong.
But because I knew fear was already speaking loudly enough.
She tends to relay information in a way that understandably
causes everyone to panic.
What family needed to hear wasn't just, "I'm in the
hospital."
They needed the whole story.
We caught it early.
We followed instructions.
She was exactly where she needed to be.
The professionals had taken over.
That mattered.
Caregivers often become translators of fear.
We absorb information.
Organize it.
Filter it.
Then communicate it in ways that help others understand
reality without amplifying panic.
It is exhausting work.
Invisible work.
But important work.
My mom didn't want to go to the hospital.
I understood that too.
But I also reminded her that there is only so much I can do at
home.
And sure enough, around 2 a.m., her temperature climbed to
102.9 degrees.
That was with Tylenol already onboard.
At that moment, all I could think was:
Thank God this happened when it did.
Thank God it happened in the afternoon.
Not at eleven o'clock at night.
Not when every clinic was closed.
Not when exhaustion clouds judgment.
It happened.
And we responded.
That's all any of us can do.
Respond to what is in front of us.
One moment at a time.
🌸 The Gift
of Letting Others Carry You
There was another emotion I wasn't expecting.
Relief.
A small voice inside me thought:
Okay.
She's here.
They've got her.
I can sleep.
For weeks, I had carried the responsibility of watching,
listening, documenting, checking temperatures, administering medications, and
staying alert.
Suddenly, she was surrounded by nurses, doctors, monitors, and
protocols.
I could exhale.
I came home.
I weather-proofed the house because we were under a heat
advisory, and keeping things cool mattered.
I gave my son his bath.
I took my own shower.
I had a few moments of quiet.
Then I went to bed.
This morning, I woke up and headed back to the hospital.
I checked in.
Asked questions.
Made sure everything was okay.
Spent time with my mom.
Brought my son so she could enjoy his company and laughter.
And life continued.
Different.
Changed.
But still moving forward.
There is a lesson here.
Even caregivers need care.
Even the strong ones need rest.
Even the responsible ones need moments when someone else
carries the burden.
Accepting help doesn't mean you're weak.
It means you're human.
✨
Affirmations
🤍 I trust
myself to respond wisely when challenges arise.
🤍 God
equips me with the strength I need for today.
🤍 I
release panic and embrace peace.
🤍 Rest is
not weakness; it is restoration.
🤍 I am
supported, guided, and never alone.
📖 Bible
Verse
"God is our refuge and strength, an
ever-present help in trouble."
— Psalm 46:1 (NIV)
I love that this verse doesn't say God was our help.
Or that He will someday become our help.
It says He is our ever-present help.
Present.
In clinic waiting rooms.
Present.
During late-night worries.
Present.
During difficult phone calls.
Present.
During hospital admissions.
Present.
In exhaustion.
In fear.
In hope.
He is there.
🎵 Song of
the Day
"Head in the Game" by ZII
I chose "Head in the Game" by ZII because sometimes
the most powerful thing we can do is remind ourselves that we are capable of
facing what is in front of us.
Life has a way of throwing us into seasons we never would have
chosen. There are moments when responsibilities pile up, fear creeps in,
exhaustion settles deep into our bones, and we begin to question whether we
have what it takes to keep going. Caregiving has certainly been one of those
seasons for me.
This song is an affirmation set to music. It is a reminder to
stay focused, grounded, and present. To keep showing up even when circumstances
are difficult. To remember that just because life is challenging does not mean
you are incapable.
Having your "head in the game" isn't about
pretending everything is easy or ignoring your emotions. It isn't about pushing
through without rest or acting like fear doesn't exist. It's about choosing not
to let fear make your decisions for you.
It's about trusting that God has already equipped you with
what you need for this moment.
You may not have all the answers.
You may not know exactly what tomorrow holds.
You may feel tired, overwhelmed, or uncertain.
But that does not mean you are powerless.
This season you're walking through—whether it's caregiving,
grief, healing, parenting, financial stress, health challenges, or simply
trying to hold your life together—did not arrive because you were weak. And the
presence of hardship does not erase the strength, wisdom, and resilience that
already live within you.
As I listened to this song, I couldn't help but think about
the many moments over the past few weeks when I had to quiet the panic and
focus on the next right thing.
Check the temperature.
Make the phone call.
Pack the hospital bag.
Relay the information.
Ask the questions.
Take care of my son.
Take a shower.
Get some sleep.
Wake up and do it again.
Not because I felt fearless, but because the situation
required me to keep my head in the game.
Maybe that's the message someone reading this needs today.
You don't have to have everything figured out.
You don't have to be fearless.
You don't have to be perfect.
You simply have to take the next faithful step in front of
you.
So if your heart feels weary, let this song be your reminder:
You've made it through difficult days before.
God is walking beside you now.
You are more capable than fear would have you believe.
Take a deep breath.
Lift your head.
Trust yourself.
Trust God.
And keep going.
Because this season may be challenging, but it is not stronger
than the strength God has placed within you.
🌷 Final
Thoughts
Yesterday reminded me that preparedness and peace can coexist.
We prepared.
We paid attention.
We trusted our instincts.
We followed directions.
And when the unexpected happened, we responded.
Not perfectly.
Not fearlessly.
But faithfully.
If you're walking through uncertainty today, remember this:
You don't have to know how tomorrow unfolds.
You simply have to take the next faithful step.
Check the thermometer.
Make the phone call.
Ask the question.
Accept the help.
Take the nap.
Say the prayer.
Trust God with what comes after.
The unexpected will always be part of life.
But so will grace.
So will wisdom.
So will resilience.
And so will hope.
Until next time, beautiful souls, continue to rise, continue
to thrive, and remember that even when life changes in an instant, God remains
steady.
With love and gratitude,
Angel 🤍
AMC Rise and Thrive
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If this message resonated with you, please consider sharing it
with someone who may need encouragement today. A single story of hope can
become a light in someone else's darkness.
Trust God's timing. Stay open to His guidance. Even when the
path ahead feels uncertain, remember that He is already walking beside you,
unfolding grace one step at a time.
#CaregiverLife #CancerJourney #FaithOverFear
#HopeInTheUnexpected #AMCRiseAndThrive
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