What you get
Built around the parts of caregiving that actually go wrong
Every piece here came out of a family that lost something: a dose, a ride, a note, an afternoon.
Medication board with refill countdowns
Every drug carries its dose, its schedule, its prescriber and the days remaining before the bottle runs dry. When a hospital discharge changes the list, you mark the old line as stopped and the history stays readable.
Aide check ins without an account
Your home health aide taps a private link on her own phone, marks the shift tasks and adds a note in her own words. Nothing to install, nothing to remember, and her observations reach the family the minute she leaves.
Appointments with the ride attached
An appointment is not booked until a driver's name is on it, so the 2:15 neurology follow up cannot sit there unassigned. Each visit carries the address, the parking note, the copay and the reason your father is going.
Visit notes a clinic can actually use
Write what the doctor said in plain language, tag it to the parent and the condition, and it joins a timeline you can print. Families take the one page summary to specialists who have never met the rest of the care team.
A duty rotation that genuinely rotates
Set the pattern once and the roster moves the Saturday visit, the pharmacy run and the Sunday phone call around the circle. The board shows at a glance who has carried the most hours this month, which ends a lot of quiet resentment.
The emergency room folder, ready to print
One button produces the sheet a triage nurse asks for at 3 a.m.: medications and doses, allergies, conditions, surgeries, the pharmacy, the primary care number and who holds power of attorney. Families keep a printed copy in the glove box and one on the refrigerator.