My name is Zach Quinn and in many ways, I’m similar to other 22-year-olds that are around me: I love board games, video games, and movies. I love my family—even though my three little sisters get on my nerves sometimes.
But I’m very different from just about every other 22-year-old I know in one big way: I have Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy (DMD), and I rely on home health care services for nearly all of my daily activities. These nursing and certified nursing assistant (CNA) services allow me to be as independent as possible—and allow me to live, in many ways, like my non-medically complex peers.
DMD is a degenerative neuro-muscular disease that causes the muscles in the body to weaken. DMD led to the loss of my ability to walk, and my needing a wheelchair. It has also led to the loss of lung function, which required me getting a trach and vent to breathe for me. I need to be medically monitored to stay independent, which is why I rely on home care in my daily life.
I wanted to write this blog post as a way to show the wider world that being disabled doesn’t make me—and others like me—so different, as long as we have the proper care in place.Home care allows me to maintain my independence. It takes a lot for me to do that, but it is worth it. I need nurses and CNAs to get ready every day. They help me get washed and dressed so I can get up in my wheelchair and start my day without my parents’ help. This makes it so I can hang out with my family, go out in my community, and be myself. I appreciate the life I have because of the care I receive from my nurses and CNAs, and it has changed my life.
Another purpose of this blog post is to show what happens when things fall through. There is a huge gap in people’s ability to access home care, even if they and their families prefer to be at home. I’m no exception. I have had great nurses and CNAs leave the home care industry, which has led to my parents having to call out of work. They usually leave for better paying jobs—which is great for them, and often necessary so that they can support their own families. But it really affects me—it makes my care unpredictable for me and my parents, and makes it more difficult for them to count on care and know that they can sleep and work normally.
It also makes it a “revolving door” of caregivers in many ways. This has its own layer of problems, but in the end, the best way to prevent this is to ensure that caregivers like nurses and CNAs can make a sustainable wage and living in home care. I studied Digital Media in high school, and I wanted to pursue a career in video game design. There are so many individuals in RI and across the US and the world who are able to live good lives, get jobs, and provide to the economy and community as long as good home care coverage is available. I don’t belong in a nursing home—I belong in my own home, and in a place where I can design video games!
But I can’t accomplish any of this without home care. We need to make sure that enough people want to work in home care—that it is a rewarding and compassionate career path. In my home state of Rhode Island, and in nearly every other state in the US, professional caregivers like nurses, CNAs, and home health aides are paid less than their counterparts in other settings—like hospitals. This keeps institutional care as more readily accessible to people who need long-term support. The federal government and state legislators must make sure that home care is a viable career by funding home care programs better. This would allow nurses, aides, and other caregivers to be paid a fairer wage—and would allow more of the workforce to enter home care.
There will be a long time before we can say that home care is as accessible as care in other places. But this is one way to start.
After all, isn’t celebrating individual independence a huge and important part of our collective American culture?