We Call Her Nanny Maegan

My sister, Maegan, and I are a lot alike. We look alike, we walk alike, we sound alike. We are intensely curious, love to read and enjoy British period pieces. We love Twix and Colin Firth and think Ryan Reynolds is dreamy. We share 50.4% of our DNA. Our list of differences, though, is lengthy. She hates nuts (including Nutella). I think nuts are the perfect accent to any baked good, and I can literally eat an entire 16 oz. jar of Nutella in one sitting. She enjoys 1,000+ piece puzzles, sudoku, shopping and sewing. I like none of those. She has the patience to make her own patterns and assemble IKEA desks. She can cross-stitch, crochet, embroider, knit, give me a haircut in a pinch and play the piano. She also knows her way around a Cricut machine and has never met a craft project too messy, sticky or tedious to tackle. One of her favorite YouTube channels is a guy who pressure washes rugs. She finds it relaxing. Joann Fabric & Crafts is her favorite store. Her interests are unlimited, and she is not afraid to try something new. This is not me. At all.

Maegan is also a helper. It’s a big part of who she is as a person, and it’s ingrained in her career as an audiologist. Whether she’s testing and diagnosing newborns, screening school-aged children and ensuring their hearing aids grow with them or assisting adults, Maegan helps people live fuller, more productive lives through better hearing. Like many people in the education system, Maegan goes far above the requirements of her job. She takes the time to learn about her patients and their challenges and has performed small acts of kindness like buying a family in need school uniforms or coordinating food and household supply drives. She also performs huge acts of kindness that some might consider heroic acts. For example, she was one of three good Samaritans who assisted in a water rescue of special needs adults after Hurricane Barry. She was literally awarded the Medal of Valor from the Iberia Parish Fire Department. But don’t call her a hero. She hates that.

Outside of her job, Maegan is the CEO of the Guilbeau/Warren family. Whatever anybody needs, at any time of the day or night, Maegan is there to listen, learn, troubleshoot and problem solve. We call her Nanny Maegan, but she is really teacher, tutor, seamstress, carpenter, Uber driver, creative director, school counselor, principal and so much more. So, when the script was flipped in 2020 and Maegan was diagnosed with cancer, it was our turn to help. As the news set in and the treatment plan was formulated, I thought to myself WWMD? How would Maegan help in this situation? The answer to that question became the roadmap for our family’s Nanny Maegan support team. She is the gold standard. She’d already set the example. We followed it.

June 12 will be 18 months since Maegan rang the bell after her last radiation treatment. We were there to support her cheering along through tears of fear, relief and joy just as she would’ve done for us. Our Nanny Maegan did it. She made it through those grueling days and slid right back into her role as CEO and audiologist extraordinaire. She is our hero. But don’t call her that. She hates it. If it were me, I would require my people to address me as “Hero Shana” and then ask Maegan to embroider the moniker on a cardigan. Our different approaches to accepting accolades must be part of the 49.6% of our DNA we don’t share. Either way, she will always be my hero.