The four walls surrounding me begin to move, floor massaging my feet, blood drawing away from my toes and fingertips, and I become faint. My blood pressure drops from 120/70, a stable pressure, to 90/44. Quite the contrast compared to my BP of 160/100 yesterday. It’s difficult for me to imagine a day where I won’t feel like this. I feel like a burden on those who have to take care of me. No one understands how I feel, no one can relate to me, no one knows how to sympathize with me. I feel like I have nobody. Except for one. Her name is April. People at school really know her as the “school nurse,” the one who gives you Advil, and the one with the authority to let you go home or not. But I know her as a hero. She checks all the boxes of the qualities of a hero… generous, selfless, courageous, patient, and caring. In a nutshell, she is a spunky, athletic, dog-loving thirty-one-year old. No kids, unless you count her three dogs, but I would say she kind of “adopted” me. We had a close bond and our friendship grew immensely over the course of ten months. April Warner held me when I was sick, held me when my parents didn’t. Continually checking in on me, she was a reminder that I am not handling my health problems on my own. I would come to her, exhausted and desperate for a laugh, and she would tell me a story about her dogs and show me what she’s researched in regards of diagnosing my health issues. On top of this, in September she cared for me 16 days in a row, three periods a day! We both had resolved to the fact that nothing she nor I could do would help my health, so our afternoons were filled with jokes and storytelling. April told me all about growing up in Texas, about nursing school, the triathlons she’s ran, her family, her dreams and goals. Let me say she has not had an easy life. Having her mom pass away when she was 30, you rarely meet people as stable and joyful as her. All of these deep conversations took place in a tiny nurse’s office, which is kind of hysterical! April understands life and what really matters, and I won’t ever forget her because of that. She loves me so well, and I wish one day I could return that to her. To have someone voluntarily pour into, barely knowing you, is impactful and so rare. I honestly cannot describe how thankful I am for April. I love her like a best friend. Maybe that is why it was so hard to watch her leave. Or maybe it was because she was the one who best understood my health, how it was affecting me, physically and mentally. I will never forget that afternoon in November. It was dark, cold, and rainy, and after a long day of taking tests and not talking to April, surprisingly, she calls me into her office. As I walked in she was wearing a forced smile and teary eyes. After dancing around the subject for several minutes, I ask her what’s going on. She tells me that she is moving to Florida and I was so in shock that God would take her from me. This rock, this support and care, away from my life. Once I got home, I sobbed. I was trapped in this bubble of confusion and helplessness, I needed someone to pop, for God to pop. Eventually the bubble popped, and after all was said and done, she left. My life wouldn’t be the same without her in it. I wouldn’t have been able to get through my health’s rough patches without her. If I end up chasing my dreams of becoming a nurse, doctor, or surgeon, it’s because of April. Thank you, April Warner.