My sister suffered a massive stroke in Jan. 2024 and bounced around from hospital to rehab to nursing home, but she never made it home again after that. I visited her when she was at Christ in Oak Lawn, IL. Her day nurse was Kaylee. I didn't get her last name, it's probably Angel because that's what she is. 

My sister has always been difficult to be around throughout her entire life, and that held true during her final days as she spent hours upon hours crying. Maybe from the stroke, but likely because she was so lonely and desperate to go home. Our family is small, and my sister's adult son and teenage children rarely visit her. I'm out of state, along with our younger brother, and unfortunately, due to becoming a single mom to two kids unexpectedly, I didn't make it out to see her before June. 

Throughout the months since January, I've spoken with countless nurses and doctors, and I thanked them for taking care of her. It was part genuine and part sheer hope that my gratitude would make up for the frustration, the obvious frustration they were feeling from dealing with her, which they feebly tried to mask over the phone. When I was with her in early June, I understood why they felt the way they did. 

But Kaylee seemed oblivious to it. She was happy and desperate to help. She sang country songs to her because she took the time to learn that my sister liked country music. Kaylee sat by her bedside for an hour while she charted so that she wouldn't be lonely. And she shared that same concern and care for me and my brother while we took turns visiting her. She advocated for my sister when she herself and we couldn't.