Growing up I always had a passion for helping others, whether it be humans or animals, I wanted to help. I moved out of my moms house at the age of 18 when I got my first job as a housekeeper at a skilled nursing facility. My four years with the company consisted of working in multiple different departments and always getting closer to the patients and their families. It didn’t take long for me to realize how much I loved learning about the lives of my residents, hearing their stories, and making them smile after they had a hard day. After the four years, I ended up leaving the company and it took no time for me to realize how much I missed seeing my residents. It was for this reason that I took on a second job as a caregiver at an Alzheimer’s and dementia care facility. I already pretty much had my heart set on nursing, but if there were any doubts in my mind, this new facility confirmed everything for me. One resident in particular stood out to me. A young lady, not more than 50 years old, came into the unit one day with early onset Alzheimer’s. In her time at the facility, I became very close with her as she thought I was her daughter. While folding resident laundry, she loved to sit with me and ask me about my father (her husband). She was so happy while talking to me about him that I loved just meeting her in her world to discuss everything under the sun as if I were her own child. When she first came to the unit, she was completely independent. Going to the restroom on her own, walking around, saying good morning to everyone in the facility, and was over all a beautiful happy spirit. I recall as she started progressing in her Alzheimer’s that she was having a particularly hard time accepting the bathroom side of it. What I mean by this, is when she was lucid, she would refuse to wear briefs under her underwear because she didn’t want to be known as someone who couldn’t take care of themselves. One night, I was getting her ready for bed and helping her to the toilet. She was happy and smiling and everything seemed fine. The second I stood her up to use the toilet, she forgot what she was doing for a split second. She stood up, paused, and she wet herself before she could sit down. A few seconds went by before she realized what had happened, and once she did, she completely broke down sobbing. In this moment, I cried with her, held her, and knew that my life needed to be taking care of those just like her. That resident passed away just six months later and I still think about her often. My passion is people. More particularly, people who need someone to love and care for them when they have spent their lives loving and caring for others and can no longer do so.