When my mother-in-law announced she was heading to Peru last year, I felt my stomach drop.
She’s in her 70s, frail, and lives with diabetes, mild heart failure, and chronic kidney disease. My sister-in-law and I—both busy with kids, careers, and caregiving responsibilities in different ways—tried to talk her out of it. My husband expressed his concerns to her, but she was really looking forward to going.
Here’s all we could think about: a group trip where they would be exposed to high altitude with several other elderly travelers? We were worried. However, the traveling outfitter said this trip was tailored for older but independent travelers and they had taken this trip multiple times. My mother-in-law… she was determined to go.
And so, she went.
Then the phone rang.
A few days into her trip, my sister-in-law—who lives closest to her—got the call first.
It was a Saturday. I was at a birthday party with our younger son and my husband was at work. I still remember looking at my phone and seeing that I had missed 5 phone calls from my husband. He had been trying to reach me because they were having a difficult time communicating with the doctor at the clinic and I speak fluent Spanish. It didn’t help that the connection made it very difficult to understand what anyone was saying.
We found out that my mother-in-law, along with four other people from her group, had developed altitude sickness while in Cusco. She’d been taken to a clinic, and they were trying to figure out what to do next.
The clinic connected with me next, since I speak Spanish. And what unfolded over the next 48 hours was something I wouldn’t wish on any family.
Incomplete medical information, rising fear
The calls came in pieces—broken, rushed, and full of gaps. My mother-in-law sounded terrible, unable to complete half of a sentence without being short of breath. She was on oxygen but her requirement was increasing beyond what the local clinic could provide, plus she needed overnight monitoring.
They hesitated to give her medication because she couldn’t tell them details about her kidney disease or her heart function.
And she refused to leave the group for a proper hospital because she didn’t want to be separated.
It was incredibly stressful.
We were trying to make medical decisions from thousands of miles away. She had no medication list with her, no documentation of her conditions—nothing we could just show the doctor at the clinic and nothing my sister-in-law could simply read off to them. Because here was the thing—she mainly managed her own medical information. Nothing felt so overwhelming that we had to track her health details for her, until we realized she couldn’t relay the information in a stressful situation.
Even though she had travel health insurance—which, thankfully, made some things easier—the lack of organized medical information delayed her treatment.
Eventually, she was transferred to a hospital in Lima, where she finally received the medications she needed, she could be monitored more closely, and she was at sea level. After a few days, she stabilized enough to fly home. However, trying to figure out how this was all going to work was the sole focus of conversation for the next 48 hours.
Could we get my sister-in-law there quickly? Would that even help? Who would accompany her on the flight? When would she be stable enough to get home? What if she got worse, what would we do then?
What hit me hardest
What struck me most wasn’t just how fragile the situation was—but how certain I was we were not the only family facing this.
Even though my sister-in-law and my husband support her in different ways—she manages her medications herself, she lives alone, she still has her independence, but with support. However, we’d never had a real conversation as a family about how to handle her medical information during an emergency.
We’d never asked her to keep a current medication list handy.
We’d never written down her diagnoses, her doctors, her insurance details.
We assumed she had it under control—until she didn’t.
The truth about sandwich generation caregiving…
When you’re part of the sandwich generation—caring for kids, keeping an eye on aging parents, juggling your own life—it’s easy to hope things will work out. It’s easy to assume our parents can handle these medical situations, especially when they’re relatively independent like she was.
But when a health crisis happens, it happens fast.
And the people you love may not be able to advocate for themselves in that moment—especially in another country, especially if there’s a language barrier, especially when they’re scared and can’t breathe.
That trip woke me up to just how unprepared we really were. I saw this at work a lot, but I didn’t make the connection between what I was doing every day at work and the importance of getting our loved ones’ medical details organized in the same way.
Why I started Caregivers Coffee
That experience stayed with me. It made me realize how many families—families just like mine—are one unexpected moment away from not being able to advocate for our loved ones. Two months later, I started Caregivers Coffee.
So, I took what I know from 20 years of working as a Nurse Anesthetist, an advanced practice nurse, witnessing families in their most vulnerable moments, and I created something that could help, before the crisis happens.
I designed a simple but impactful way to organize your family’s medical information, so you’re never caught scrambling like we were. Something that brings peace of mind—not just for big emergencies, but for the everyday moments, too.
Here’s what I want you to know
If you’ve ever felt that knot in your stomach when your phone rings…
If you’ve ever tried to answer a doctor’s questions about your loved one and come up blank…
If you’ve ever thought, “we’ll figure it out together if something happens”…
Please, take this as your invitation to get ready now.
Take one small but meaningful step toward sharing the mental load. As a sandwich generation caregiver, your mind is already full of all the things (and it’s a lot). Let’s take all of that medical information that only you or your loved one knows and put it in a place everyone can access when it’s needed most.
👉 You can download my free Family Health Info Organizer here:
[Download link: https://caregiverscoffee.myflodesk.com/opr49idrl3
And if you’re ready to go deeper, I’m creating something special just for you.
Because here’s what I learned: having the paperwork is just the first step. The real game-changer is having someone guide you through the process—someone who understands both the medical side and the emotional overwhelm that comes with being responsible for someone else’s health.
Join the waitlist here to be the first to know when it’s ready—and get early access:
Waitlist link: https://ccwaitlist.my.canva.site
Because when life throws you the unexpected, you deserve to feel as prepared as possible. And you shouldn’t have to figure it out alone.
What’s your biggest concern about being prepared for a medical emergency with your loved ones? I’d love to hear from you—reply and let me know.
This step-by-step guide helps you create a reliable medical record system -so you can stay organized.
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