I DIDN’T WANT A CAREGIVER—I WANTED MY OLD LIFE BACK
When I was told I’d never walk again, I didn’t cry—I just nodded. I didn’t want pity or pep talks. I just wanted space to grieve the life I’d lost.
So when the nurse said I needed a caregiver, I refused. But then Saara showed up. She wasn’t overly sweet, didn’t treat me like I was fragile. She just made coffee and got on with it. Over time, I let her in. She made me laugh. She cared.
One day, I broke down after dropping a bowl. She didn’t fix it—she just sat beside me and listened. That’s when I realized I didn’t just need help—I needed connection.
Then she told me she was moving for a new job. I was happy for her but terrified of being alone again. Still, she kept showing up, encouraging me to try adaptive sports. I hesitated, scared to fail—but she believed in me until I started believing in myself.
We went to the adaptive sports center together. I played wheelchair basketball, joined cycling, even tried rock climbing. Slowly, I found joy again.
When Saara left, it hurt. But thanks to her, I wasn’t the same person anymore. I had a life again—different, but full. She gave me the strength to move forward.
Sometimes, the people who enter our lives unexpectedly leave the deepest marks. Saara taught me that moving forward doesn’t mean forgetting—it means growing.
