I always say care chose me.
And the funny thing is, I don’t think I have ever really shared why.
I was one of those people who had heard about care work. I had friends who worked in care. I knew it existed. I knew people did it.
But me?
I never saw myself in it.
Actually, let me take you back even further.
When I was a teenager, trying to decide what I wanted to do with my life, my dad once said to me that I looked like I would be a nurse.
And in my young mind, I remember thinking…
“Boi, you are outta ya mind.”
Because nurse?
Me?
Absolutely not.
At that age, I could not see it. I could not imagine myself in that kind of work. I didn’t understand what he saw.
Years later, I even went for a care interview in my early twenties.
I didn’t get the job.
And at the time, I quietly took that as a sign.
Maybe this is not for me.
But looking back now, I wonder if maybe it wasn’t rejection. Maybe it was timing.
Maybe care was not saying no.
Maybe it was saying, not yet.
Then came 2019.
Life had one of those turnarounds that you do not plan for. The kind that doesn’t ask for permission before it rearranges everything.
Both my partner and I had no job.
Suddenly, life was no longer about what I fancied doing or what felt comfortable. It became about survival. Stability. Finding something that would take me in openly and quickly.
And that door was care work.
I will be honest — at first, it felt daunting.
The long hours. The responsibility. The emotional weight of it. The different personalities. The residents who came with their moods, their stories, their pain, their humour, and their little moments of magic.
Some cheerful.
Some frustrated.
Some quiet.
Some sharp-tongued.
Some simply tired from life.
But then something happened.
I got used to it.
And then I started enjoying it.
Not just tolerating it. Not just surviving it.
Enjoying it.
The smiles on residents’ faces. The unexpected thank-yous. The appreciation from families. The little moments that no job description can ever fully explain.
A hand reaching out for reassurance.
A resident laughing after a difficult morning.
A family member saying, “Thank you for looking after my mum.”
Those moments did something to me.
Before care, I had spent years behind a computer. Paperwork. Deadlines. Documents. Systems. Work that had to be done, but work that often came with very little human warmth.
You could do everything right and still no one said thank you.
Care was different.
Care was exhausting, yes.
But it was alive.
It had faces. Voices. Stories. Laughter. Tears. Frustration. Teamwork. Pressure. Humanity.
And perhaps, without realising it, that was the breath of fresh air I needed.
What was meant to be a temporary fix became a complete turnaround in my career.
A 360 moment.
I entered care because I needed a job.
But I stayed because something in me came alive there.
There is something powerful about doing work where your presence matters. Where the way you speak, the way you listen, the way you notice small changes, the way you show patience on a difficult day — all of it matters.
And then there are the workmates.
The people you laugh with in the middle of chaos. The ones you exchange that knowing look with when the shift is shifting. The ones you cry with, vent with, encourage, cover, and somehow survive twelve-hour shifts with.
Care became more than a job.
In many ways, it became family.
Recently, I asked my dad if he remembered telling me, all those years ago, that I looked like I would be a nurse.
I asked him why he said it.
What did he see in me?
And he said, simply:
“I just knew.”
That father instinct.
And now here I am.
Not yet a nurse, but on that path.
Still growing. Still learning. Still wanting to dig deeper, do better, lead better, and make an even bigger difference in this ever-growing industry.
It makes me laugh now because teenage me really thought my dad had lost the plot.
But maybe he saw something I was too young to recognise.
Maybe healthcare was already somewhere in my story.
It just had to wait for me to mature first.
Because some callings do not arrive loudly.
Some callings sit quietly in the background while life shapes you, humbles you, stretches you, and prepares you.
Then one day, you walk through a door you thought was only temporary…
And realise it was never random.
Healthcare chose me.
And I think it waited until I was ready.
That is how I got into care.
