When Care Becomes the Crisis: The Story Behind ClarityLink

Like many families, we weren’t prepared for the moment everything changed.

It started as just another workday for my mom. She noticed numbness in her limbs but brushed it off.

Like so many of us, she powered through, pushing past her symptoms until the end of the day. But by the end of her shift, the numbness hadn’t gone away. My dad took her to the ER. That one decision set off a whirlwind of confusion, missed signs, and fragmented care that would follow us for months.

The doctors told us she had a stroke. But just as we were preparing for discharge, I noticed something was wrong. My mom was staring off blankly, not responding to basic questions, drifting in and out of focus. When I raised my concerns, I was told, “She’s stable enough to go home.” The nurse practitioner wasn’t alarmed. But I was.

I’ve always been the one to manage my parents’ care—congratulations on being born first, right?

I knew something wasn’t right. I stepped out to calm down, but my gut kept screaming.

When I returned, I spoke to our RN again (The first time she had notified the nurse practitioner). She saw the panic in my face and said something I’ll never forget:

“You know your mother best. If you say something’s wrong, I’ll escalate it to the doctor.”

That nurse was my lifeline—part medical professional, part therapist. Within minutes, new tests were ordered.

What came next shook us all.

The doctor, who wasn’t even on shift, rushed to the hospital. A team assembled quickly. We were told my mom wasn’t having a stroke—she was experiencing a “shower of strokes”—so many that they couldn’t even count. She was transferred by ambulance to a higher-level hospital for intensive care.

You’d think we could exhale at that point. But the second hospital felt like onboarding for a new job. Suddenly, we had to recall every detail: my mom’s medications, diets, supplements, and daily routines.

I realized how little I actually knew about the day-to-day parts of her health that could help her care team make better decisions.

That guilt hit hard. Should’ve asked more. Could’ve tracked better. I would've done it differently if I’d known.

Meanwhile, I was trying to be strong for my dad and sisters. I’d sneak off to the hospital lobby—not just to breathe, but to check my own blood pressure. I don’t even have high blood pressure. But it was elevated. The stress was real. We carry more than we know.

That was the moment I realized: care shouldn't feel this disconnected.

If I had ClarityLink back then, I would have felt more connected to my mom’s health. I could’ve shared her supplement history. Flagged the risks. Giving her doctors more context. Advocated with confidence, not just instinct.

This isn’t just a blog post. It’s the reason ClarityLink exists.

Because when care becomes a crisis, families shouldn’t have to guess. We deserve tools that help us show up—not just emotionally, but informed and prepared.