About Jake: Jake Fuehrmeyer is a first-year medical student at the University of Cincinnati College of Medicine and a summer intern with Giving Voice Foundation. Inspired by his family’s experience with Alzheimer’s disease and his passion for compassionate, person-centered care, he hopes to build a career that combines excellent medicine with genuine human connection. He believes that even the simplest acts of kindness can make a lasting difference.

I grew up in northwest Indiana, just outside of Chicago, with my older brother, Luke. He’s only about a year and a half older than me, but he’s been my best friend for twenty-six years. My family means everything to me. My mom, my dad, my brother – we’ve always been close. We love to bowl, play golf, have game nights, and play cards. We even have this pot of quarters that’s been passed back and forth for years as we “gamble”. We laugh a lot.
As I got older, music became a big part of my life. My grandpa encouraged that by giving me tools to grow as a guitar player. Over the past year, I’ve had the chance to play for him a few times, and those moments have meant a lot to me.

People sometimes ask why I wanted to become a physician. Honestly, it’s kind of a plain Jane story. I really liked science in high school. A friend of mine went to Notre Dame on the pre-med track, and I ended up there too. Then, the summer before my junior year, I flew to Texas to work at a camp for kids living with diabetes.

That experience changed something for me. It was hard work. It was exhausting…and it was incredibly rewarding. That’s when medicine really started to feel like the right path.

After college, I applied to medical school and didn’t get in the first time. So I worked. I studied harder. I took a job at Oak Street Health, caring for adults over sixty-five and people living with disabilities. That job gave me my first real window into geriatrics and managing chronic illness. It also taught me perseverance. Funny enough, my brother and I have always had the same “problem”. Whenever we find something we enjoy, we take it to the extreme. I think that’s true for me with medicine. The harder something is, the more motivated I become. There’s something about doing difficult work that also does good for someone else. That’s what keeps pulling me back.

Eventually I applied to medical school again, and this time Cincinnati was at the top of my list. Getting accepted felt like everything had finally fallen into place. I’ve met incredible classmates, amazing mentors, and I’ve had the opportunity to live with my partner during this first year of medical school. She’s a physician assistant and has been instrumental in helping me through this first year. I feel incredibly blessed.

But these past two months have also given me something unexpected. They’ve given me perspective. I’ve learned things I can share with my mom. They’ve reminded me to call her more often….to check in and ask how she’s doing….to care for the caregiver. I’m so grateful the caregivers have welcomed me into their conversations and allowed me to ask questions. They’ve taught me far more than I could ever learn from a textbook.

One thing I’ve realized is that dementia is not one disease. It’s an umbrella term. Every person and family’s experience is different. Even from one week to the next, things can change. That has taught me how important it is to approach every person with curiosity instead of assumptions.

Most importantly, dementia does not make someone any less of a person. Every week at Creative Connections I see joy. Laughing, singing, moving, making new friends, experiencing life. There’s this whole journey before end-stage dementia, and there is still so much room for joy. Watching that has changed me. In fact, “joy” was my memo going into medical school.

Creative Connections has given me permission to be goofy and silly, and to laugh with people. It has shown me that bringing joy is just as important as bringing knowledge. As a future physician, that’s a lesson I’ll carry with me forever.
Medicine is about so much more than diagnosing and treating disease. It’s about seeing people. Getting to know them. Understanding who they are before you understand what’s wrong. There’s a lot of care – not just cure – in medicine. Giving Voice has reminded me that people are never defined by a diagnosis. They’re individuals with stories, relationships, dreams, and reasons to smile.

If there’s one thing I hope people remember after reading my story, it’s this: You don’t have to do much to make a difference in someone’s day. Sometimes it’s a phone call to your mom. Sometimes it’s checking on a caregiver. Sometimes it’s sitting beside someone living with dementia and sharing a laugh. Simple things go a long way. I hope I never forget that. Because I think it’ll make me a better physician. But even more importantly… I think it’ll make me a better person.

Did this story remind you of one of your own?

Whether you’re living with dementia, supporting someone you love, working alongside families, or carrying a memory that matters, we’d be honored to hear it.