Levi Fox
Lead Care Manager - Enhanced Care Management, Vynca
During the holidays, we often think about gifts as objects, boxes, and bows. In community care, the most meaningful gifts come through partnership and persistence. They appear when someone discovers a resource they never knew existed. They grow from connection, safety, and the belief that progress is still possible.
Enhanced Care Management (ECM) exists for people who are carrying more than systems were designed to support, for people facing homelessness, people navigating disabilities, people living with chronic health conditions and limited income. It is for people without reliable access to transportation, treatment, information, or advocacy. Through ECM, support becomes a bridge. One connection leads to another. A small step leads to stability. Confidence begins to return. Options begin to open.
One person I work with had lived for years with failing vision, followed by complete blindness due to cataracts, while also facing instability and significant barriers to specialty care. Through care coordination and the support of multiple partners, evaluations were scheduled, transportation was arranged, and the path to treatment became clear. When the procedure to correct her vision was finally completed, her sight returned. Daily tasks became safer. Independence grew. The world opened again in ways that had once seemed out of reach. The gift was not only improved vision, it was renewed confidence and the ability to participate fully in life.
Another client, who is a loving husband and a devoted father of three young children, is facing the final stage of a complex and difficult cancer journey. This family has been navigating the emotional weight of serious illness. Their priority was simple and deeply human. They wanted meaningful time together. Through nonprofit support and advocacy, the family received an all-expense-paid opportunity to vacation to Yosemite National Park together where they enjoyed a peaceful setting where appointments were replaced with memories. They returned with new stories and a sense of connection that illness could not overshadow. Time became something they could enjoy rather than fear. And the trip wasn’t just for him. It was for his wife and children too. The trip was to share jokes, hold hands, breathe mountain air not filtered through hospital glass. They could remember laughter without fear attached, and hold memories made in peace rather than crisis. Care didn’t change the outcome; it changed the experience of the time left. And that is a gift with a value no system can assign.
Some families want to leave something lasting for the people they love. This year, one family I work with is preparing for a loved one’s passing due to chronic illness. They were connected to a nonprofit organization to create a recorded life story, professionally filmed and edited, that preserved experiences, wisdom, and personality. It captured this person’s voice in a way that written messages cannot. This project offered a sense of peace and meaning. It ensured that memories would be shared long into the future. The gift was the ability to express what matters most and pass it on.
Stability doesn’t always arrive all at once. Sometimes it comes in steps. For this couple, it meant moving from homelessness to transitional housing, and eventually to a permanent home in a socially-active senior community. This meant access to caregiving support, physical and mental health services and substance use recovery programs that allowed them to regain control of their lives. Somewhere along the journey, as their crises quieted and stability took root, they were able to celebrate something illness and instability had delayed for years: their marriage. Supported by a nonprofit that arranges ceremonies for individuals facing serious health challenges, they stood together surrounded not by uncertainty, but by love and possibility. Stability brought structure, safety, and the freedom to plan ahead. The gift is a future that feels within reach.
Care is often a collection of small victories. It looks like shared problem solving. It sounds like encouragement on a difficult day. It unfolds across phone calls, eligibility checks, applications, and conversations. It relies on community partners, nonprofits, providers, navigators, and families who all play a role.
The gift of care is the moment someone realizes change is possible. It is the relief that comes with a door opening. It is the pride in graduating from ECM with stability and skills that support independence.
These gifts are not seasonal. They happen every day through collaboration and belief in what humans are capable of when supported well.
The work of ECM isn’t defined by one domain. It lives in the spaces between systems where people are most at risk of being lost. Care is a bridge. Sometimes into housing. Sometimes into recovery. Sometimes into connection.
The gifts given this year weren’t medical. They were human:
• Belonging
• Time well spent
• Stories preserved
• A place to call home
• The confidence to imagine what comes next
Care is rarely a single moment; it is the steady belief that people deserve a pathway forward. And that belief, shared across teams and organizations, is perhaps the greatest gift we give.
To learn more about how Vynca can support your practice, or to refer a patient today, visit vyncacare.com, email us at hello@vyncacare.com, or call 1-888-227-8884.