I’m raising funds for my best friend, Clint, who I’ve known and loved since kindergarten.

Clint was seriously injured while responding to an emergency at work as a registered nurse, suffering a skull fracture and traumatic brain injury that required hospitalization. Right now, Clint is having an incredibly hard time. He’s been in excruciating, almost constant pain most days, sometimes reaching a 10/10, and even with all the different medications and treatments they’ve tried, they’re still struggling to get his pain, blood pressure, bleeding, and nausea under control. There have been moments where it feels like they get one thing under control just for something else to become a problem.

Watching someone I’ve known and loved since kindergarten go through this has been heartbreaking and honestly difficult to put into words. The hardest part has been seeing just how much of his independence has been taken away from him almost overnight. Clint has always been incredibly independent and has spent his career as a nurse being the person taking care of everyone else. Now he’s the one who needs help.

He currently can’t safely live by himself and needs one or two people assisting him with things he normally wouldn’t have thought twice about. Even basic things like taking care of himself, getting around safely, and keeping track of and taking his medications have become things he needs help with because of how much his neurological injuries have affected his ability to function. He’s also dealing with severe, almost constant nausea and has completely lost his sense of taste and smell. Eating has become incredibly difficult. Between the nausea, pain, medications, and not being able to taste or smell anything, something as simple as sitting down and eating a meal has become another obstacle.

Right now, even simply existing can hurt him. Sitting still can hurt. Normal sounds can hurt. Light can hurt. Things most of us go through our entire day without even noticing can overwhelm him and make everything worse. There are times when all we can do is make the room dark and quiet and try to keep him as comfortable as possible. Watching your best friend be in that kind of pain, knowing there isn’t something you can do to just take it away, is absolutely heartbreaking.

I think one of the hardest parts for me is wondering if the Clint I’ve known since we were kids will ever fully come back. I know his personality, his energy, his sense of humor, his laugh, the way he talks, the things that make him happy, and how much he cares about the people around him. It’s terrifying not knowing what parts of his life will return to normal or what his future is going to look like.

What makes that uncertainty even harder is how much Clint was looking forward to his future before this happened. Just last week, he was telling me how well his one year review with his manager had gone. He was so proud of how far he had come as a nurse. They had talked about him potentially stepping into a leadership role as a team lead, and he was getting ready to apply for a committee leadership position where he could help improve patient safety and the experience patients have while they’re in the hospital. He was excited. He was proud of himself. He was talking about what came next.

Before this, Clint was 26 years old, living independently and building a life and career he genuinely loved. He spent his shifts taking care of people during some of the hardest and most frightening moments of their lives. Anyone close to Clint knows how much being a nurse means to him and how seriously he takes caring for his patients. There’s something especially heartbreaking about watching someone who has spent so much of himself caring for other people suddenly become the person lying in the hospital bed needing that same care.

A week ago, Clint was planning what came next. Right now, we’re taking things one day at a time. We don’t know when he’ll be able to safely live independently again. We don’t know when or if he’ll be able to return to the nursing career he loves. We don’t know how long his recovery will take or exactly what his life will look like on the other side of this. That uncertainty is one of the cruelest parts of a brain injury. There isn’t a date circled on a calendar when we know Clint will suddenly be Clint again.

What we do know is that he is still here, he is fighting through an unbelievable amount every single day, and right now he needs other people to help carry him through a time when he simply cannot do everything for himself. Anyone who knows Clint knows asking for help does not come naturally to him. He is much more comfortable being the person helping someone else. Right now, though, he needs the people around him to do some of that caring for him.

The funds raised will help Clint with the expenses that are already beginning to pile up while he focuses on recovering. This includes medical bills and treatment, medications, rehabilitation and therapy, transportation to appointments, and the additional care and support he currently needs because he cannot safely live independently. Funds will also help cover his normal living expenses while he is unable to work, including housing, utilities, food, and other basic necessities.

Because this need may continue for months, recurring donations would give Clint more predictable support as recovery unfolds and ongoing expenses keep coming. One-time donations are also deeply appreciated and will still make a real difference. Our goal is simply to take as much financial pressure off of him as possible so his energy can go toward healing instead of worrying about how he is going to pay his bills or get the care he needs. If you’re able to help or share this fundraiser, thank you for caring about Clint.