I’ve been a caregiver for a long time—first in small ways, like helping with medications or attending appointments, and then in ways that consumed entire days, weeks, and eventually, life as I knew it. When someone you love depends on a complex web of support to survive and thrive, you become an expert in navigating systems. You also become intimately familiar with their failures.
One of the most important systems in that web is Medicaid. It doesn’t get much praise, but it probably should. Because for millions of families like mine, Medicaid is what keeps people in their homes. It’s what covers services when private insurance falls short. And it’s often the only thing standing between survival and collapse.
In the last year, my understanding of just how vital Medicaid is deepened in ways I never expected. While I’m not ready to share all the details just yet, I can say this: when someone you love ends up in a medical crisis, you shouldn’t have to fight to get them basic care. You shouldn’t have to argue for medications, mobility equipment, or meal support. And you definitely shouldn’t have to navigate all of it alone.
Medicaid provides more than financial assistance. It provides time—to breathe, to heal, to show up for the people we love. It provides dignity—because nobody should be discharged from the hospital to a home that isn’t equipped to meet their needs. And it provides hope—because people can recover better at home, when they’re supported and not institutionalized unnecessarily.
If you haven’t had to rely on Medicaid, you might not realize how critical it is until it’s gone—or until you’re suddenly dependent on it. If you have had to rely on it, you probably already know it’s not perfect, but it’s essential.
This year, I’ve learned that the strength of a caregiver is often fueled by policy, paperwork, and persistence. But it’s also powered by love, and belief, and the hope that the people making decisions about these programs understand the stakes.
I’ll be sharing more soon about my family’s story—and what it taught me about the quiet power of Medicaid. For now, I just want to say: if you’re a caregiver, I see you. If you’re navigating a crisis, you’re not alone. And if you’re fighting for better systems, I’m right there with you.
Stay tuned.
