Nobody knows my husband, his medical history, or his baseline (what he’s like on a “normal day”) better than me. So, when I have questions or comments about a clinical decision, or share feedback about his clinical status, my words are meaningful.

While my commentary and participation is important, I also fully recognize that I am not a formally educated clinician, so I’m not asking for more than consideration while we partner on my husband’s care.

Even when I’m being assertive, I want you to know that it’s because my intuition is rarely wrong, and my heightened sense of awareness regarding his status and needs are a gift for us both. We’re on the same team.

I didn’t always trust myself. Even now, there are moments when my imposter syndrome gets the best of me – but it shouldn’t. There’s nothing phony about my knowledge or skills as his caregiver. If you encourage my participation, we all benefit – especially my husband.

You should also know that I love him, and I would never knowingly suggest something harmful. If I’m asking a lot of questions, making suggestions that sound ignorant, or if you feel like I’m asking a lot of you, imagine what it would be like if our roles were reversed. I love him now, and I loved him before all of this (gestures broadly). You don’t know who he is, or who he was. I do – as do his family and friends.

Nothing I’m asking for seems like too much from this vantage point.

You may see my husband once, or you may be part of his care for years. Either way, my goal is the same: to work with you to answer some really important questions. Can we address what brought us here today? Is he safe? Is he as healthy as he can be? And most importantly, is there anything else we can do to help him have the best quality of life possible?

So – let’s begin.

I’ll tell you what I know, and you’ll tell me what you know, and maybe my dear husband benefits from our collab.