A few months ago, I was invited to lead a training for CNAs and the care team at a memory care community in San Jose. On paper, I could have walked straight in, handed out slides, shared strategies, and left. But something in me said that wouldn’t be enough.
So, before I said yes, I asked for one thing: “Could I work a full shift with your team first?”
It had been years since I last worked the floor, and honestly, I was nervous. Would I keep up? Would I slow them down? But I also knew that I couldn’t design anything meaningful unless I re-entered the world that caregivers step into every single day.
So, at 6:45 a.m., I showed up in scrubs. No clipboard. No name tag announcing my role. No shortcuts. Just me, blending into the team.
That day, I became a CNA again. I helped with morning routines—supporting residents with personal care, assisting with breakfast service, tidying up rooms, and sorting laundry. I joined several two-person transfers, where communication, strength, and trust had to align seamlessly between staff. By 3 p.m., my feet were throbbing and my back was sore, but my heart was wide open. I didn’t just feel tired- I felt fulfilled.
The reminder hit me hard: this work isn’t just difficult, it’s sacred. It takes not just physical stamina but deep reservoirs of patience, compassion, and heart. Caregiving asks us to pour from every part of ourselves- our muscles, our minds, and our humanity.
What moved me most, though, was what I saw in the small in-between moments. Families visiting, stopping to say thank you. One daughter asked if I worked there full-time and smiled when she said, “I wish you could stay longer.” A husband whispered, “I don’t know how you all do this every day, but I’m so grateful you do.” Another family member even offered to jump in and help. Those encounters reminded me: dementia care is never a one-person job. It takes a community, people showing up together, not apart.
To my fellow leaders: sometimes the most powerful act of leadership is not standing in front of your team giving direction, but standing with them. Shoulder to shoulder. In the laundry room, at the dining table, during the transfers, in the quiet moments where the real work happens.
I know it’s not always easy. We’re pulled in a thousand directions. The pressure to perform, to deliver results, to keep everything moving- it’s real. But that’s exactly when humility matters most. Leadership isn’t about being above. It’s about being beside. About showing your team that you see them, that their work matters, and that you’ll never ask them to do something you wouldn’t be willing to do yourself.
That day reminded me of why I chose this path in the first place. And it renewed my commitment to never lose sight of the heart of our work- the caregivers who make it possible, the families who entrust us, and the clients who deserve to be seen with dignity every single day.
Vee
