Growing up my family was 'picture perfect' (we were/are so far from perfect). My parents are high school sweethearts, raised their kids in their hometown, were involved, and did all the 'things,’ and were married for 39 years this past March. They had a Christmas Party every year with their friends from across their lifespan and in 2022, it was the 40th year of the Christmas Party. Once us kids were of 'age' (we were finally able to be invited), we would then bring our spouses as time went on. My family is tight-knit, supportive, hardworking, and has a lot (sometimes too much) fun! My parents are pretty cool people if I do say so myself. 

In May of 2020 (the worst possible time in healthcare and the world, so it seemed) we were devastated by the diagnosis of early-onset dementia for my dad, who was 59 at the time. We did our best as a family to manage the situation and diagnosis as time went on. 

We made the extremely difficult decision to move him to a Memory Care Unit in February 2023. We found a place that had known family friends there, a personal connection with a few of their staff, and was close to my parent's house so my mom could visit as often as wanted and needed. 

One week in March was a living nightmare. We were going on the third ED visit from the Memory Care Unit, trying to manage the rapid deterioration of this evil disease, a petition and cert, a geriatric-psych placement, potentially getting sent to Indiana, my dad having to be restrained; us advocating, praying, hoping, and loving. It was hard, it was SO hard.

Within a 14-hour period, we roller-coastered up and down, 0 to 60 in a matter of hours. We finally got the best placement on a Psychiatric Facility Older Adult Unit. We could rest, we were ready for this wave of the journey. 10 hours into the stay there, my mom got a call that my dad fell and was being transported to Trinity Health's ER for medical clearance. I thought, 'Here we go again.' 

I met my dad in the ED at 0830, knowing his background and potential for agitation and aggression I wanted to advocate for the best plan. Little did I know my saving grace that day, Jason Schipper, already had the plan. I didn't have to be a nurse or advocate; I got to be the best, and my favorite role that day, my dad's daughter. The ED team moved quickly and efficiently to get my dad medically cleared (with boarding in the ED, they did it in record time, I am still so impressed). I got to hang out with my dad as he fiddled and 'fixed' the stretcher, said how terrible the snacks were (haha!), showed him pictures of my parents' dogs that he misses so much, and got to just hang out with him. Jason took the hard part and his time (2-3 hours) - he redirected him, got him to take his meds, made sure he was clean and dry, walked with him as he got agitated, let him dump out an entire box of masks, made sure he took the sharps container off the wall the right way, and most importantly de-escalated and loved taking care of my dad so he didn’t become aggressive.

As I write this three weeks later (tears streaming down my face) and reflect on one of the worst weeks of my family's life, at 1300 on Friday when we got my dad transported back to Pine Rest, Jason never left my dad's (or my side). Jason has a calling, a passion, a healing touch and voice, stories, love, and humility that will forever be etched into my family's journey.

Jason, thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Trinity Health Grand Rapids should be celebrating Jason every chance we get. Every patient is forever blessed to be cared for or impacted by Jason. Nurses across the hospital should each spend a shift with Jason to learn what a true calling of being a nurse is.