By Kylie Briest, Hidden Helper, South Dakota
Growing up, my childhood looked so different compared to everyone around me. My dad, Sgt. Corey Briest was injured in combat by a roadside bomb in 2005. Even though I was three at the time, I can recall every detail of this day.
He had suffered a traumatic brain injury and had part of his skull removed to allow his brain to swell. The first time my mom saw him, she said it looked like there was a soccer ball next to his head due to the amount of swelling. The doctors told my mom that dad was not going to make it and that she needed to start planning his funeral. Later that same day, a doctor we called “Dr. Happy Eyes” walked in stating my dad had brain function, which created a drive to fight in all of us. My mom immediately began planning for his recovery. Even though my dad was in a coma, we knew that he was still with us. My mom would play a tape recording of me singing and his heart rate would rise. I remember his first word after waking up, “Ky”—my childhood nickname. He is the strongest person I know.
As he recovered, I was always by his side, growing up while helping him get through his physical therapy, administering medications, and even stealing a few bites of his orange sherbert. Every day I could see him getting better, stronger, and more independent. I remember being my dad’s little therapist and stretching him out, working with his nurses, and feeding him through his feeding tube.
My dad will require 24-hour care for the rest of his life. He is 100% disabled, suffers from a traumatic brain injury, is legally blind, and attends occupational and physical therapy multiple times a week. We focus on the good days, but even these can be hard.
Becoming a caregiver in childhood is not easy. I grew up fast because I had to. I knew I had to step up and help my mom out at home with my dad and my little brother. There are so many things I learned that my friends didn’t have to know. I know how to call 911 while distracting my brother so he didn’t have to watch our mom perform the Heimlich on our dad, as he turned blue. I know about the sleepless hospital nights that are hard to get through after we had a seizure episode, and how it feels to go to school the next day. I know how to divide out my dad’s medications, 10 pills in the morning and 7 at night. I had to think about things kids shouldn’t have to think about. Could my dad go to that school event? Would it be handicap accessible? What about that family vacation we want to take? Will he be able to participate and have fun? Some days are harder than others, but I always know I am the one who can calm my dad down… any day, any time.
Growing up as a “Hidden Helper” made me who I am today and helped me find my passion as an adult. In and out of hospitals, it was inevitable that I pursued a career in the medical field. In December of 2023, I graduated from the University of South Dakota with my bachelor’s degree in nursing, and landed a job in the neonatal intensive care (NICU) unit at a hospital near my hometown. Within NICU nursing, supporting the patient’s family is huge. My friends, family, and coworkers have pointed out the ease I have in including the whole family within my care.
Military families are special, the whole family makes a sacrifice for our nation. Military kids are often left in the shadows and not given enough credit or support–caregiver kids even more so. The Elizabeth Dole Foundation has helped me and other children realize that even though we are kids, we are still caregivers. The Foundation is not only the first organization to recognize and label my brother and I as caregivers, but also the first organization to make sure we are okay as individuals. The Hidden Helpers program has allowed me to make connections with peers my age who knew what it was like to have a different childhood. They understood that family came first and knew what it felt like not to be “normal.” The Foundation has allowed me to work with amazing programs such as Nemours Children’s Health. I was able to partner with Nemours and be a guest in their educational modules. These help medical professionals better care for military children. Once I connected with the Elizabeth Dole Foundation and recognized I was a Hidden Helper, my world opened up. People were asking me if I was okay, and that means more than anything. The Hidden Helpers program has helped me find my voice and share my story while allowing me to advocate for what is right, and, now, I can turn around and help others do the same.
