While the events of the past three weeks had clearly foreshadowed the hands-on role I would take in Kit’s medical care, this morning’s chair-gate brouhaha had firmly established how I would tackle my job as caregiver: ferociously, passionately, and with zero tolerance for bullshit. And it felt good. It felt good to fight for something without worrying about my emotions getting the best of me or how I’d be perceived or what the possible blowback would be. It felt good to love someone so much that literally nothing was as important as making sure that person was safe and comfortable and
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