I turned to AI while my mother was dying

"When my mom was dying, hospice came daily and stayed for about ninety minutes. They answered questions, checked what needed to be checked, and did what good professionals do: They made a brutal situation feel slightly less impossible. And then they left. Ninety minutes go fast when you are watching your mother decline. The rest of the day stretches out in a way that does not feel like time so much as exposure. Every sound becomes a data point."

"Every small change feels like a decision you did not train for. Her breathing sounds strange. What do we do? How often should we turn her to avoid bedsores? What is the diaper situation, exactly? That was the gap, the long, quiet stretch between professional help. In those hours, what you want most is not a miracle. It is simply someone to ask."

"AI found its way into my life when I least expected it. Not as a replacement for care or love, and not as a shortcut around grief. It was a tool that did not get tired. A place to put the questions you are embarrassed to ask. It was a way to stop spiraling long enough to make the next decision."

"I kept feeling disappointed that I was not managing the "data" better. The dates. The times. The medication lists. When tools like ChatGPT took a leap forward, I suddenly had something I did not have before: A resource that could help me understand what I was looking at and organize what I could not hold in my head."

Hospice staff provided skilled, ninety-minute daily visits that eased an overwhelming situation but left long, exposed hours without support. Those quiet stretches amplified every sound and small change into urgent, unpracticed decisions about breathing, turning to avoid bedsores, and diaper care. The caregiving role became a continuous information-management burden as heart and kidney disease progressed, with specialists, tests, and medication changes multiplying. AI emerged as an unexpected, nonhuman resource that did not tire, offered a place to ask embarrassing questions, helped stop spirals, and organized medical details to enable timely decisions.

Read at Fast Company