“I didn’t buy a ticket to this amusement park, and yet here I am, white-knuckling the safety bar on the world’s most emotional rollercoaster ride,” shared Heather Polk when we talked about her journey as a caregiver.

Her ride began on November 23, 2023, a day that started out like any other. Her husband, Jason (Jay), went in for routine bloodwork. No symptoms. No warning. Just a regular Thursday that derailed into a Stage IV colon cancer diagnosis with liver metastasis.

Cue: chemo. Surgery. More chemo. Skin rashes. Side effects. Sleepless nights. And an endless soundtrack of “What now?” moments.

Since then, Heather and Jay’s life has found a new kind of rhythm, one made up of chemo cycles, carpools, full-time jobs, and the nightly debate of “what’s for dinner?” (Spoiler: no one ever knows.)
“On alternate Wednesdays,” Heather shared, “Jay does a 10-hour chemo session. Meanwhile, I’m mom, scheduler, snack queen, and professional cheerleader, all rolled into one very tired, very determined human.”

The Caregiver Truth

When we asked Heather what surprised her most, she didn’t hesitate.
“The overwhelming feeling of helplessness,” she said. “You think you’ll step up and handle it all but there’s no manual for comforting someone in pain at three in the morning, or riding the emotional highs and lows like a hormonal teenager on a caffeine high.”

Still, amid the chaos, something beautiful has bloomed: perspective.
Heather admits she used to live with a “that’ll never happen to me” mindset. Now, she sees every single day as a gift.
Some days are wrapped in laughter, others in tears, but each one counts.
And sometimes? You just have to laugh to keep from crying (and yes, it’s totally okay to do both at once).

The Invisible Superhero Cape

People often ask, “How’s Jason doing?”
Rarely does anyone ask, “How are you doing?”

Here’s a little secret: caregivers wear invisible superhero capes. They don’t get medals, but they do get really good at to-do lists and hiding dark circles with concealer.

When doctors told Heather and Jay that he’d be “chemo for life,” their world paused. But just hours later, at their son’s first high school golf match, Jason leaned over and whispered, “I hope I’m around to see him as a senior.”

That hope, that quiet, steady heartbeat of love, is what keeps Heather going.

Finding Strength in Community

Heather found comfort in our online community, Cocktails & Caregivers “Caregiver Chaos,” a Facebook group where caregivers swap stories, support, and survival tips (and sometimes memes, because humor is medicine).

And thanks to our Keeping Caregivers Close grant, Heather and Jay are heading to MD Anderson this December for a second opinion, a chance to quiet the “what ifs” and keep hope alive.

Heather’s advice for other caregivers:

• Take care of YOU.
  
• Write things down before appointments.
  
• Cry if you need to.
  
• Laugh when you can.
  
• And remember, while you didn’t sign up for this role, you are doing a phenomenal job showing up with love, grace, and grit.
  

On the hardest days? Lean into your village. Find your people. Humor helps. And yes, the occasional cry in the car is 100% normal.

When asked how she’s doing, Heather doesn’t sugarcoat it:
“I’m surviving. I’m loving. And I’m still holding on to hope, even on the bumpiest part of the ride.”

Supporting Our Caregivers

Caregivers like Heather remind us what it means to live loud, love deep, and never lose hope.

You can help support caregivers just like her through our Keeping Caregivers Close and Our Tribe grants, made possible by generous sponsors like Round Room Gives and our Martini Club monthly donors.

💙 Learn more or make a gift today at cocktailsandcaregivers.org

Because while caregivers may never buy a ticket for this ride, they shouldn’t have to face it alone.