“Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.” Leo Buscaglia
This week, I want to express my deep gratitude for long-term care workers and the compassion they show every single day.
Some professions get headlines. Others get hashtags. Long-term care workers rarely get either, yet they quietly carry families through the hardest seasons of their lives. Their work happens behind closed doors, outside the spotlight, in moments most people will never see, and hope they never have to face.
But for families like mine, these workers became the bridge between fear and understanding, between chaos and calm.
I recently had the privilege of keynoting for KCARE, the new statewide organization formed by the Kentucky Health Care Association, the Kentucky Center for Assisted Living, and the Kentucky Association of Health Care Facilities. Three associations joining forces to become one unified support system for the people who hold our people.
As I shared my dad’s story: from the moment a stranger called to tell me he “didn’t know who he was” to the final chapter of his life, I remembered something I’ve known for years: these professionals don’t just complete tasks. They don’t just follow a care plan. They carry the emotional load most families are not prepared to hold.
They hold panic.
They hold fear.
They hold grief.
They meet people in the middle of confusion and somehow offer hope. They steady families like mine: families trying to find their footing in the unknown, families doing their best but feeling like it’s not enough, families walking into facilities with heavy hearts and leaving with a little more peace than they came in with.
Throughout my dad’s eleven-year journey, I watched aides, nurses, therapists, dietary staff, housekeeping, maintenance, and activities teams show up with compassion, even when they were running on fumes themselves. They were steady when we weren’t. They were patient when we couldn’t be. They were gentle in the moments when gentleness mattered most.
They couldn’t change his diagnosis, but they changed the moment.
They gave dignity where disease tried to take it.
They created comfort in the middle of uncertainty.
They made a man who often struggled for words still feel seen and valued.
That’s not a shift.
That’s not “doing your job.”
That’s humanity in action.
And that humanity stayed with me long after my dad’s journey ended.
If you’ve never walked alongside someone through dementia, Alzheimer’s, or chronic long-term illness, you may not fully understand what these workers carry. But if you have, you know exactly why gratitude for long-term care workers isn’t optional; it’s essential.
These teams absorb the emotional overflow from every direction:
Yet they keep showing up.
Gratitude doesn’t solve the staffing shortages.
It doesn’t erase the exhaustion.
But it does one powerful thing:
It reminds them that who they are—and what they give—matters.
Whether you’re a family member, a leader in healthcare, or someone who simply believes in the value of humanity, appreciation is fuel. It keeps people going when the work feels heavy.
You don’t need a grand gesture. The small acknowledgments last longer than you think.
Try this:
Recognition costs nothing.
Neglect costs everything.
So today’s gratitude is for them:
To every long-term care worker who gives so much with so little, please know—
You matter.
You are seen.
And families like mine will never forget the difference you made.
Who or what are you grateful for this week?
PS: I appreciate you. You ROCK.
