I DIDN’T WANT A CAREGIVER—I WANTED MY OLD LIFE BACK
I didn’t cry when they told me I’d never walk again. I just nodded, not wanting sympathy or pity. When the nurse offered part-time help, I refused, saying, “I’ve got it.” But I didn’t. The kitchen was a mess, baths were hard, and utensils kept falling.
Then Saara arrived. She wasn’t what I expected—not overly sweet or pitying. She treated me normally, asking about my coffee and making it like she had for years. I kept her at a distance at first—no personal talk, just help with essentials. But over time, I laughed at her jokes, saved books for her, and even let her in when I broke down over a dropped dish. She understood there was more than just a broken bowl.
Saara later told me she might move three hours away for a full-time clinic job with benefits. I said she should take it, though inside I was scared…
