As Kurt’s primary caregiver during his journey with ALS, I wore many hats: advocate, nurse, cook, companion, and so much more. Each role was essential, but together they were overwhelming. There were moments I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders, knowing that his comfort and care depended largely on me. Yet, I also knew deep down that to give him my best, I had to lean on others from time to time—a lesson I learned through the generosity and love of our friends.
Asking for help wasn’t easy. It meant admitting that I couldn’t do it all, which, for a long time, felt like failure. But ALS doesn’t just challenge the person living with it; it challenges the entire support system. It tests every ounce of patience, energy, and strength. Caregiving, while deeply rewarding, can also be isolating. Even though Kurt and I were in this fight together, there were days when I felt like I was navigating it alone.
In those moments, our friends became lifelines. They stepped in when I needed to step back. They offered to sit with Kurt, stay with him, or simply provide companionship so I could rest, run errands, or go home to Orlando to spend time with my husband.
I’ll never forget the first time I asked someone to take over for a few hours. I agonized over it—what if something went wrong? What if Kurt needed me? But when I returned to find him laughing with our friends, I realized something: by trusting them, I wasn’t just giving myself a break. I was giving Kurt the gift of shared joy and connection.
Each of these friends brought something unique to the table. Some shared stories that made him smile. Others handled the practical tasks we needed help with. All of them showed up with hearts wide open, reminding me that caregiving isn’t a solo endeavor.
Caregivers, whether primary or secondary, are unsung heroes. It doesn’t matter if you’re there 24/7 or for a few hours a week—your presence makes a difference. You ease burdens, create space for rest, and bring light into lives shadowed by illness. And for those of us who carry the title of “primary caregiver,” knowing that others are willing to share the load is a gift beyond measure.
Through this experience, I learned that asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness—it’s an act of love. It’s recognizing that caregiving is a team effort and that the best care comes from a community of support.
To my friends who stepped in when I needed it most, thank you. You didn’t just care for Kurt—you cared for me. You reminded me that even in the hardest moments, we were never alone. You are the true definition of friendship.
For anyone out there walking a similar path, I hope this serves as a reminder: it’s okay to ask for help. Trust the people around you. Let them.
Comments