Caregiver Turned Friend

“Hi, Hannah,” Kate yelled as she closed the front door.

This was our last day together. I had known this day was coming since I interviewed her. Kate had graduated from nursing school back in May and was looking for nursing jobs in the months ahead. Typically, this is a situation I try to avoid because it means finding another caregiver a few months later, but she was able to work on weekends, and I knew she was fun and reliable. It turned out she was ridiculously reliable—she covered for five days straight when another caregiver tested positive for COVID. I didn’t regret hiring her… not once!

Peering into my office, she said, “I’ll be on the couch until you’re ready.”

That’s a seasoned caregiver. She knows I’m finishing up and chills out until I need her.

After pressing Save in Microsoft Word, I pressed the lever to turn on my wheelchair with my right palm. Grabbing my joystick, I rolled into the living room.

“Hey! How are you?” I asked.

“Sad. I’m going to miss you.” Kate said as she stood up from the couch.

You have no idea, Kate.

“I’ll miss you so much. But for now, I need to go to the bathroom.” Sometimes Mother Nature has a way of pushing along sentimental moments.

Kate and I did our thing in the restroom.

“Let’s get going. I don’t want to be late.”

“Yep,” she said.

I was going to a church retreat for middle school students. Kevin, my longtime friend and mentor, had asked me to help out. I was happy to help. Readers, you may remember this as the presentation where my communication device bonked out last year, and my speech therapist had to run and give me her device.

Kevin texted, “Is the communication device working?”

I replied, “All systems go.”

“OK, Star Trek,” Kevin texted back.

Kevin is always making jokes. I love that about him.

We arrived at the church 40 minutes later. I walked into the very large gym.

“How’s it going?” I asked.

“Good. How are you?”

“Good.” Turning to Kate, he said, “And you are…?”

“Kate.”

Kate and Kevin exchanged pleasantries. After that, Kevin and I introduced ourselves as the speakers. My presentation was on joy vs. happiness. Here’s a little excerpt:

“Joy and happiness are two different things. First, joy is a choice. We can choose God, and He gives us joy. Remaining in a state of joy includes staying in conversation with God and looking for the people who help in difficult situations. It’s understanding that bad things in life happen, and we can decide what our hearts and minds are going to focus on. On the opposite end of the spectrum, happiness is fleeting. It’s an emotion. Emotions come and go; they are not stable. God’s presence, however, is very stable. It’s always available. Reasons to be happy are fleeting.”

You get the gist of what I said. The kids were great and asked a lot of questions.

Then Kevin took over. He did team building activities after my speech.

Kate and I left the church, and since we were celebrating her last day, she got to pick the place for dinner. She chose an Italian restaurant nearby. We had a lovely meal together.

One of her favorite things to do with me was making greeting cards for the kids in my family. I loved her enthusiasm for making each card unique. Kate had met two out of the five kids in my extended family. She picked up the unicorn card.

“Aviva?” she asked. Aviva is my god daughter. Kate quickly learned that she loved unicorns at her birthday party.

I nodded.

It’s little things like that I miss about seasoned caregivers. They know the tiny details that make up my life, and it’s hard when they leave. It’s nice not to have to explain every detail to yet another caregiver.

Once those cards were finished, we made a video of how she does my ponytail. She’s 5’0”, so she uses a stepstool. Check out the video here: http://bit.ly/3DYH9CC

We were in the middle of my bedtime routine when Kate offered to bring her boyfriend by the next day to treat me to Starbucks.

Heck yes!

Since our last day, we’ve absolutely seen each other and continue to. Are all caregivers like this? Absolutely not. However, some caregivers do turn into really good friends.

I’m blessed.

Signing off, 

Hannah!

Everyone is Sick

 Her eyes tell me everything, and she knows it.

“I think you’re sick. I don’t think this is just pain from your dystonia.”

It’s 2:30 AM, and I’ve had to call my wonderful roommate, Claudia, to bring me some Advil. That’s the agreement with my roommate. In exchange for discounted rent, she agrees to be home by midnight and help in these scenarios.

I type, “I’ll go in tomorrow,” on my no-tech, laminated alphabet board, which is literally cardboard and paper laminated together.

“That’s probably a good idea,” Claudia agrees.

My chest feels like a hammer is hitting it—a dull, constant ache. I’m heading for urgent care first thing in the morning.

Kate, my caregiver for the day, gets me dressed, and we’re off. I’m fortunate enough to live five minutes away from a clinic, which I don’t take for granted. It’s 10 degrees, so I am bundled up and despising the arctic temperatures. Kate hits the button for the ramp to open, and I scurry out anxiously to get inside.

“Open wide,” the nurse instructs.

Kate, my caregiver, is with me in the exam room. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No. I need you,” I reply. My need for independence shrinks when I’m sick. I feel terrible, and I don’t care if the doctor knows how accomplished I am.

Standing behind my wheelchair, Kate gently holds my head so the nurse can do the strep test. I gag slightly but stay composed.

“Do you want a COVID test?”

“Want” isn’t exactly the word I’d use.

“Yes, let’s get it over with,” I say.

I’m a little less stoic during that test. A stick up my nostrils, combined with the dystonia, is horrible.

Fifteen minutes later, the results come back: NEGATIVE. A wave of relief washes over me. I won’t have to quarantine! Hallelujah!

The doctor checks my throat.

“It looks red and very swollen.”

I nod, as if to say, Sounds about right.

“I’m going to put you on antibiotics and a steroid. The steroid will help with the pain—it’s worse than I’d like to see.”

I agree with her. “Thank you for everything.”

All the doctors and nurses here at the urgent care clinic are professional and kind. I’ve never felt patronized here, which shouldn't even be a concern, but in the past, doctors have assumed I have the cognitive ability of a child.

Kate drives me to the pharmacy. We get much-needed medication. I will struggle to wipe my nose independently, but I can—and I have to. I would say wiping my nose is the hardest part of being sick, but I find a way.

I watched a lot of Gilmore Girls during my recovery. When a caregiver was there, I was able to lie down. Otherwise, I was in my wheelchair.

Readers, I am finally feeling better! Everyone has gotten sick this year, and I’ve felt bad for you. I was getting cocky, thinking I wouldn’t. Joke’s on me.

I hope you’re healthy and happy. I am ready for spring. How about you?

Dad's 65th

Rolling onto the pickleball court, I saw everyone who meant something to my dad. It was his 65th birthday party. Everyone from his high school days to people who shared his love of the game were there. The large, open space was filled with nets in the air and white squares on the floor. Players were laughing and eating on the sidelines.

“Hi, Hannah! How are you?” Jane, a friend of my parents, exclaimed. Her ponytail bounced as she walked toward me.

“Great, how are you?”

“I’m good…”

“No, I have a better question. What’s the most exciting thing that’s happened in 2025 so far?”

That’s such a better question! I told Jane about how Sharon Draper had followed me on Instagram. She wrote Out of My Mind, a book about a fourth grader who has Cerebral Palsy. I think it’s amazing that she followed me. Subsequently, I searched for Draper’s agent, whom I successfully found after a 30-minute investigation. I met her, and she was a fountain of wisdom.

“That’s impressive,” Jane responded.

“Hey, Jane, get out on the court!” Mom yelled happily.

“I’m being summoned.”

I rolled over and watched. Mom had been friends with these women for 40 years or more. Through cancer diagnoses, parents passing away, the ups and downs of motherhood, and nights like tonight, their friendship endured. I’m in awe. The men of the group could say the same thing. They are truly a remarkable group of people.

After the game, Mom got everyone to sing to Dad. It was fun to hear all the voices that made up my parents’ lives. Rolling through the myriad of people, I heard a full-grown man call my name.

Who is that?

“Jake?”

“Yeah, and this is my girlfriend.”

The last time I saw you was high school graduation, and now you’re an adult.

“Hi.”

The core memory of David, my little brother and his friends I have is all of them in Little League and me being bored to death and insisting on having my iPod in. Mom always understood and helped me with my headphones. I was fourteen and appreciated listening to NSYNC during these long games.

“Nice to see you, Hannah,” David said as he came over and gave me a sweaty hug. He continued, “Catching up with Jake?”

“Yeah,” I replied, before he and his friends jogged off to play.

By that time, I had talked to everyone and was ready to go.

“Hey, Mom. I’m going to go.”

Leaning in for a hug, she said, “It’s been fun. Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

I hope you enjoyed reading about Dad's birthday celebration. It was a beautiful reminder of how the people in our lives shape us—and how some bonds only grow stronger with time. Thank you for being part of our lives!