Not sure if it's time? Start here.

STILL HERE is seven days of your own week, in your own handwriting, so that when somebody finally asks how you've been sleeping, you have an answer instead of a guess.

Each day is two pages. The night page asks what your sleep was actually like, what woke you, and what you make of it. The day page asks what you noticed, what worked, and what was harder. Then one line for what you want to do about it: bring it to the appointment, call sooner, or nothing at all.

Two pages near the back are written for whoever sees you. The rest is yours.

What's in it

• —Seven night-and-day spreads, undated, start any day
• —Pages for what you want kept with you: how to speak to you, and how not to
• —A page you write before you start: what you noticed, what you think is going on, what you want help with
• —An urgent page with a printed edge tab, findable on a closed book
• —An appointment page and a summary page for your clinician
• —A page for after the visit, to write down what was actually said

What it isn't

Not a diagnosis. Not a medication list. Not a tracker that scores you. Nothing in it tells you to change anything you take. Seven nights can give a clearer picture of one week. They cannot prove a pattern.

It does not care what you have, or whether anyone has named it yet. Sleep, medication events, and how a day went are the same questions whether you are recovering from a stroke or a bad fall, adjusting to a new prescription, living with Parkinson's, Lyme or long COVID, or working through something nobody has named yet.

When two people care for one person, the thing that gets lost isn't the medication schedule.

It's the small discovery. The one phrase that works. The time of day she's easiest. The thing one of you found by trying it, that the other one is about to spend a week finding again.

BESIDE YOU is one page a day that carries it across.

What's in it

• —Seven two-sided handoffs
• —How to be with me — written by the person, or with them: call me this, not that; do this first when you come in; say this; never say this
• —Event pages used only when something happens: a hard night, a medication event, a fall, a difficult moment
• —An urgent page with a printed edge tab
• —A one-minute handoff for whoever arrives next
• —Two pages for a clinician, and a page that belongs to the person
• —A separate private sheet for the care partner, printed on its own, never bound in

What it isn't

Not a surveillance log. Not a medical record. Not a place to write complaints about the person. Not for paid staff working a shift.

And it doesn't ask you to watch harder. It asks you to write down what you already noticed while you were there.

A blank page does not mean you failed to notice something. A blank day counts, because you were here for that one too.