Gratitude for my sister
Hardship is illuminating—not only in terms of what you learn about yourself but the people in your life as well.
While I’ve always been close to my sister Mara, I got to know her in a different capacity—as a nurse—during my arduous recovery from post-concussion syndrome. She walked with me every step of my concussion journey. And I couldn’t have asked for a better person!
I truly lucked out by having Mara as my sister. She’s been there for me since day 1, and last year she went above and beyond when I struggled with a brain injury.
My big sister
Mara has never been the type to wait for direction.
Growing up, I thought of her as a typical oldest child: always pushing the boundaries and a little bossy. One of my earliest childhood memories is my parents reminding her, “We’re the parents.”
But maybe Sheryl Sandberg was onto something with her Ban Bossy campaign. Mara’s so-called bossiness was actually her taking initiative and problem-solving. She’s a natural at identifying an issue, formulating a solution, and activating a response.
Over time, she’s also developed an amazing ability to act assertive in a way that is somehow disarming and lets even the most difficult personalities comply. I’ve seen her do this with our grandparents’ generation as they aged and then experienced it firsthand last year, when I was essentially a 33-year-old with dementia.
My rock
Mara was a calm, grounding force when my world was turned upside down and I couldn’t make sense of it.
As my sister and a nurse whose patients often have brain dysfunction, she could tell right after my fall that I wasn’t okay. When I flat-out refused to let my family take care of me in my hometown (remember a brain injury affects your ability to think), Mara didn’t get frustrated or angry with me. Instead, she focused on what she could do to help from afar. And she seemed to have an innate sense of what I needed.
She attended every single neurology appointment with me. That entailed taking time off work, driving five hours across the state, and staying in my one-bedroom apartment. She’d help me prep a list of symptoms and questions and share her observations with my neurologist during the appointment (she was far more accurate than I was). Afterward, she’d drive me home, send me notes, make sure I was okay emotionally, and remind me of any follow-up I needed to take care of.
Mara (left) and me with my pups on one of her visits to Seattle.
She made daily texts, calls, and emails to check in and keep my spirits up.
She researched activities I could do to assist my recovery and pass the time during my leave of absence from work. Among her findings, meditation became the most useful tool to help me heal.
She never lost her patience when my brain was stuck on the same irrational loop. Instead she spent hours on the phone with me trying to help me process it. She spoke to me with love and compassion, reassuring me whenever I doubted whether I would recover.
She treated me with respect and never judged me. She knew and trusted that I was doing the best I could, which helped me rebuild confidence in myself.
She gave me space to be where I was, meeting me at the pace of my brain and my energy level. I can see why her coworkers and patients regard her as an exceptional nurse!
Endless gratitude
From all that she did for me, you’d think that she had all the time in the world. In reality, she had two jobs and a household of her own to manage, and she was studying for the critical care registered nurse (CCRN) certification exam and planning a big surprise birthday party for our mom with 100 guests.
The way Mara showed up for me still makes me sob. It’s incredibly humbling to be loved, especially in such a difficult and vulnerable state, and to be supported without the expectation of something in return. And yet, I know she would simply say, “It’s what you do for family.” Yes, we make a point of being there for each other in our family, but I am overwhelmed with gratitude.
Thank you, dear sister.