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. Read more below
