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 Because We're Friends Susan Phillips is a fifty-something courtesy clerk at Kroger who loves the color purple. She’s a Starbucks coffee drinker and a cat lover. She’s a model citizen who will do anything for a friend. And she’s my friend for life. Susan and I met in the spring of 1998, and shortly after that I agreed to become her advocate, promising to be a friend to her, to act on her behalf, and to be loyal to her interests and rights. When I made those promises I wasn’t sure where they would take me, but today I recognize that my life has been immeasurably enriched by our relationship. Over the years we’ve had many adventures. We’ve enjoyed shopping (another one of Susan’s passions!), eating leisurely breakfasts out (she likes three eggs over easy, bacon, grits, white toast), or grabbing a burger on the go. If I have a special errand to run, she’s happy to come along on her day off. We’ve shared holidays and birthdays and lots of laughs. She’s watched my children grow from middle-schoolers to young adults. She’s put up with my husband’s good-natured teasing, and she’s teased him back. Along the way, we’ve shared some tough times. Last year, Susan lost two close relatives (her brother and his son), as well as her beloved cat of eighteen years. This year, Susan and I encouraged her ninety-year-old father when he moved from his apartment to a residence for seniors. Then she and I supported his hard decision to give up driving, even though it means they will now see each other less often. These days, the three of us spend a lot of time thinking and talking about life, death, and the effects of aging.
Susan and I have shared ordinary times, too, and in those times something special always happens. Because we’re friends, Susan can call me and ask how to spell a word. She can ask me to help her write a note to a friend or a request to her employer. Because we’re friends, together we can negotiate a way to solve a problem that needs fixing. A few weeks ago we organized her monthly bills and receipts in a new folder (purple, of course). Soon we’ll be going through her summer clothes to decide what to keep and what to give away. Our friendship means that I help with tasks that are difficult or impossible for her, such as reading and following cooking instructions. A few weeks ago, we made a pitcher of sweet tea. Making that pitcher of tea—an ordinary task on an ordinary day—was, for me, an extraordinary moment of our friendship.
To Susan and me, friendship means that we have come together, found that we are more alike than different, and discovered that our lives are better, fuller, richer, and more meaningful because we have taken the time to know each other. For life!
Dana Campbell Citizen Advocate
 SUBTLE BUT POWERFUL PROTECTION
His large, athletic frame lies still. He uses only his dark eyes to communicate. They tell a story of segregation, isolation and incarceration. Chris has been separated from his family, not by his choice or his family’s, and made vulnerable to a system that claims to be protecting him. But, no one was protecting him. No one was considering what was in Chris’ best interest. And, no one was seeing things through Chris’ eyes - until he met Laura.
Chris is a strikingly handsome man in his mid-twenties. He has a strong face, powerful jaw-line and broad shoulders. His eyes are dark and complement his flawless amber complexion, which is characteristic of his Hawaiian heritage. He is taller than most men, measuring well over six feet He is quintessentially, tall, dark and handsome.
Basketball is his sport of choice. His father, a former professional basketball player, mentored Chris in the game in his early years. Like many young men he aspired to follow in his father’s footsteps. He dreamed of being courtside, but now only watches the game from his nursing home bed, where he has lived for the past three years. As a teenager, Chris sustained a traumatic brain injury as a result of a fall, doing what he loved, playing basketball.
Chris and Laura met in March when she agreed to become his citizen advocate. Laura visits with Chris often, and experiences the sights and sounds of his world at various times of day. Laura has come to know Chris in a way that others do not. This knowledge has become a very subtle, but powerful form of protection.
Laura has addressed issues to the nursing home staff that only someone who is sensitive to the needs of another might discern. She has, for example, voiced concern that Chris was constantly positioned in the same place in the hallway when she visits. She once noticed that he did not smell the way he should and typically does. On another occasion Laura observed that Chris’ complexion was unusually red, which was an indication he had been given the wrong medication. During another visit Laura detected that Chris’ feeding tube was not inserted properly, which she also brought to the attention of the nursing home director. These situations were immediately rectified.
It is in Chris’ best interest that Laura remains vigilant and present. Laura realizes this as she is the only unpaid person actively involved in Chris’ life. She speaks of his gifts because he speaks to her heart.
Laura Wilson Citizen Advocate
Someplace Deep Inside Me Said "YES."  Before I met Robin, I seriously questioned whether or not we would be a good match and wondered if I could actually connect with him. But I definitely wanted to meet him. At the time he was about 16 and living at a school in South Carolina, but within a couple of years he would have to move out. So, along with his mother I went to meet him. Having made no commitment, I just wanted to go with an open mind and be open to the possibilities.
During that meeting with Robin I couldn’t help but try to imagine myself living his life - someone unable to hear or talk and separated from loved ones, but someone who gets a lot out of going for walks and riding in cars and who loves to eat and do puzzles -- such pure simple joys. I could just be with him, enjoy his company and do things with him that he loved to do. I could treat him the way I would like to be treated. And someplace deep inside me said, “Yes” to Robin. It was undeniable. His gentle soul opened up my heart to him.
Once I got involved in his life, the desire to advocate for him propelled me. One crucial suggestion was to establish a Circle of support for Robin. So, I gathered together a small dedicated group of compassionate and concerned individuals that offered many helpful suggestions, especially on how to obtain a Medicaid waiver. There were actually very few waivers available, but if he could land one then he would be financially able to live in the community with supportive services.
It’s interesting how it seems we are given more strength and resolve when we’re acting on behalf of others.
Thanks to the help and guidance of the citizen advocacy coordinator and members of Robin’s Circle of Support, I was able to advocate for him and make his needs known to the Regional Board with much persistence and perseverance. Amazingly enough, the Board responded by granting Robin a waiver. This allowed him to return to Georgia and live in a home in the community--not in an institution-- and to be close to his family. It also enabled him to become better integrated into community life.
Robin is now 28 and I have no idea what he thinks of me, but when I visit him, he always holds out his hand and is ready to go. We do things we enjoy and he keeps helping me to be more present in the moment, to see things through his eyes and to enjoy what’s around us. I’m touched by his gentleness and his bursts of pure joy and my life is fuller with Robin in it.
Laurie Findlay Citizen Advocate
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