For those who don’t know me, my background is not theoretical.

I’ve lived inside the architecture of crisis for decades — in ERs, ICUs, hospice programs, suicide prevention lines, organ donation services, trauma centers, and a 2,600-bed state psychiatric hospital where human behavior revealed itself in its rawest forms. I’ve trained caregivers, worked with the CDC, DHS, Joint Commission, provided oversight for two morgues, body donation programs, lead the pet therapy program for a level three trauma hospital, delivered palliative and hospice care, written medical curriculum for the state of California, staffed trauma hospitals through disaster-level shortages, worked as a First Responder in Los Angeles and San Diego counties, and as a Psychiatric Technician in Orange County. I've been a Laboratory Tech, Medical Law and Pharmacology Instructor for the state of California, and sat with families during the moments that change a life forever.

I share this because it explains why I can tell you, with clinical clarity, that what I am navigating now is not ordinary caregiving pressure.

It is a complex medical and psychological landscape — one I am managing largely alone while still healing from years of cancer treatment.

My husband’s neurological decline requires constant vigilance, nuance, and stability.

And while I am capable — deeply capable — I am also finite. My lucidity is returning, beautifully but slowly, and the emotional, physical, and logistical demands are immense.

On top of that, the environment has been destabilized by outside forces who's contribution is mostly attempt to exert pressure, direction, or judgment.

In clinical language, this is known as coercive reentry, crisis hijacking, and conditionalized pseudo-support — behaviors that look like help but function like interference.

I need what actually stabilizes a situation:

safe medical intervention and transport

legal and consular navigation

a buffer from destabilizing outside pressure

and crucially: someone to come in once a month so I can exhale, recover, and continue caregiving without collapsing

This is not weakness.

This is sustainability.

Caregiving is a long-haul profession wrapped in love, fear, exhaustion, and ferocious determination. Even the strongest of us need intervals of light, breath, and relief.

This GoFundMe is an invitation — not a demand, not an obligation.

Support if you can. Decline if you must.

Either choice is respected.

But if you choose to support us, know this:

Your contribution directly strengthens safety, continuity of care, and my ability to keep the person I love protected, comfortable, and treated with dignity.

It gives a caregiver oxygen.

It gives a vulnerable man stability.

It gives both of us a fighting chance.

Thank you for reading, witnessing, and considering being part of our small, fierce circle of actual support.

Love, Rick and Karyn