For over fifteen years I was the primary carer for my mother, who had advanced vascular dementia. I'm from a Cambodian family, and being the youngest of ten children, it was just what naturally came to me.

As a family, we cared for my mother in her own home. It was our goal to fulfil her wish to live and die at home.

After a major fall and a fractured hip, my mother was never the same. She required twenty-four hour care. That meant witnessing the gradual loss of the person my mother once was, while continuing to provide constant support, advocacy and love.

As my parents' needs increased, I slowly stepped away from my career in early childhood education.

It was sad knowing that my husband and I wouldn't have the finances for holidays, a new car, or a house of our own. But I knew that our parents sacrificed so much more.

My parents survived communist Cambodia. They lovingly protected and saved us children in the war. They were heroes, bringing us as refugees to Australia so that we and our future generations could have a life.

I was so blessed to have a wonderful mother. She gave wholeheartedly to us children, and I got to witness her playful cheekiness as she cared for the grandchildren. My father said that she always worked so hard, and now it's our turn to work hard and care for her.

It was an honour to care for her as she cared for me.

As her dementia progressed, her needs became so complex that we had increasing falls, urinary tract infections and more hospitalisations. Every infection made her dementia take a big step down from her baseline.

She went from furniture walking, to using a four-wheel walker, to using a wheelchair when we went out. There was such a regression, and I didn't know what the next day would bring.

We decided a ramp was a necessity, so she could safely use her four-wheel walker to get in and out of the house. She loved walking and spending time in the garden my father established.

Continence nurses are amazing.

At the beginning of my mother's incontinence, we sought help from a continence clinic. The nurse came out to our home and we explained our goal, which was to remain at home. She measured my mother so we could get the right fitting continence products, and gave us a range of products to trial.

As time progressed, I was at breaking point, because my mother became doubly incontinent. I knew I needed help, because it was so hard. I was cleaning up daily accidents and bedding nearly every day, on top of caring for a toddler and my father.

We had another continence assessment and saw the same nurse, who remembered my mother and her goal. She said that at this stage most people end up in residential care, but we will try and help.

She helped manage my mother's bowel movements and explained how bowel health works in conjunction with bladder health, and how we could help prevent UTIs. She helped give us the right products to protect her bedding, her chair, and most importantly her skin.

The best thing we have is an accessible ramp. It's the wonderful handiwork of my brothers.

It began as a project to give my mother safer access to and from the house using her four-wheel walker, and access for my father to use his mobility scooter to go out in the community. Now my father uses his four-wheel walker and can get safely in and out of the house, so he can enjoy the fresh air and his haven, his garden.

Around six years ago we didn't have enough finances through the government care package to have a ramp made. We would still be out of pocket. We also knew the ramp was a priority and we didn't have time to wait for our budget to increase. That's when we decided we were going to make it ourselves.

We worked together with our care manager, who was also an occupational therapist. She helped us design the best possible ramp for my parents' house, with the right dimensions and gradient. One of my brothers took the lead with the project, supplying all the materials and equipment. All my brothers worked together building it.

I'll always hold onto the memory of my mother being the warmest, kindest mother and grandmother.

Even with her dementia, she knew she had a purpose helping care for my son. Her joy beamed as she cuddled him. I used to buckle them up in the wheelchair together and we'd go to the park, or walk them down to watch the trains go by.

She was so happy doting over him, feeding him, patting him to sleep, and just playing trains with him.

A few days after I was called and told I had been awarded Carer of the Year, my mother suffered a stroke. My heart sank, because I knew it was irreversible.

It was a bittersweet moment. There was no time to celebrate. My only focus was to advocate with the medical team to bring her home, so that we could fulfil her last wish to spend her final days at home.

When she came home she was surrounded by my ninety year old father, her children, her grandchildren and our large extended family. She spent some days lying outside in the sunshine, under the apple tree that my father planted.

It was truly a gift to bring her home. My mother passed peacefully at home, in our loving arms.

My family still continues twenty-four hour care for my father, who has Parkinson's. Alongside my husband, we also care for my father-in-law in our home. Both of our parents have complex needs and rely on us entirely for day-to-day support. We also have a very active five year old son, who has been caring for our parents alongside us.

It's very different caring for my father. He is mentally sharp and very aware. We still manage a twenty-four hour roster, but at this stage it isn't as intense as dementia care.

I manage every aspect of his health and the house. We have physio and podiatry home visits, and go out to medical and specialist appointments. I coordinate his needs and care plan with the family, and the family care roster.

My son joins me caring for Gong, his grandfather. We leave our home early in the morning and spend our day at Gong's house.

On warm days, Gong sits outside in his beautiful garden while my son plays in the dirt and I work on the garden. We go to medical appointments, and the medical team have been very understanding about having a little person with us. We play games and puzzles, or exercise together to keep Gong's mind and body healthy.

We enjoy going for drives to Springvale, where Gong likes to do his grocery shopping or dine at his favourite Khmer restaurant for noodle soup or congee. We sleep over many nights.

We try to make my father's life easier and more comfortable.

I think people often don't see or understand the life-changing effects of being a long-term carer.

After caring for a loved one day in and day out, and watching them die, it's changed me as a person. It's made me realise that time in life is short, and this time is just a season.

It's not just a physical job. It's emotionally and mentally draining. You learn who has supported and cared for your loved ones. As a mother, feeling like I lost my own mother long ago because of her dementia, I learnt who really cares for me, so that I can continue to care for others.

It's definitely overwhelming, and it's really hard. But I had to remind myself that it's only for a season.