The individuals in this story have asked WUSF not to use their full names out of fear of being targeted by the Trump administration's immigration policies.
On a Tuesday afternoon in her home in Sumter County, 91-year-old A.J. practices French with her caretaker, R.
R., who is from Haiti, speaks French and Haitian Creole. She patiently guides A.J. through a chapter on simple conversations, their laughter sprinkling throughout the lesson.
It's been three years since R. has worked as A.J.'s home health aide after A.J. took a bad fall in the bathroom and broke several vertebrae.
The incident led A.J. and her nephew to look for in-home care. When they found R. through a local agency, something clicked.
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For five days a week, R. visits A.J. and helps her with things like reminding her to eat breakfast and lunch, and to take her medicine. She drives A.J. to appointments and to the shopping center. One of their favorite activities is doing puzzles together — boxes of them are stacked behind A.J.'s dining room table.
If you ask either of them, they'll say they're more like best friends.
"We fit well together, and she's my number one," A.J. says.
R. laughs and echoes her words with "my number one."
But the right to live and work in the U.S. hangs in the balance for R. and more than 350,000 other Haitians.
The Supreme Court could decide by the end of June whether Haitian nationals can continue to be shielded from deportation through Temporary Protected Status.
TPS allows individuals to legally stay and work in the U.S. when their home country is too dangerous to return to due to armed conflict or natural disasters.
The designation was first given to Haiti in 2010 after a magnitude 7.0 earthquake struck near the capital, Port-au-Prince. It's been extended by presidential administrations since, including President Donald Trump in his first term, as other crises continue to destabilize the country.
But now, the administration is seeking to terminate the status for Haiti and 12 other countries, arguing they no longer meet the threshold and that TPS "was never intended to be a de facto amnesty program."
Yet, the U.S. government urges Americans not to travel to Haiti, and has issued the highest travel advisory warning for the country due to kidnapping, crime, terrorist activity, civil unrest and limited health care.
R. and other Haitians say they face dangerous conditions if forced to return as gangs control a majority of Port-au-Prince. At the same time, the U.S. caretaking industry, which relies on immigrant labor, stands to take a hit.
Health care industry could suffer
Haitian immigrants fill a critical need in long-term care as Florida contends with an aging population.
The state ranks last when it comes to the availability of home health and personal care aides, according to the Home Care Association of Florida.
And the state continues to deal with a staffing shortage in nursing homes.
Margarette Nerette is the vice president of long-term care for the Florida chapter of 1199SEIU, the largest health care union in the nation. She said terminating TPS would exacerbate the crisis.
"It's going to be chaos, and I don't think they will be able to replace all the Haitians if the TPS is not renewed," said Nerette.
Florida is home to the largest Haitian population in the U.S. About 158,000, or nearly half of all Haitian TPS recipients, live in the state.
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Most reside in South Florida, where Nerette is based. In nursing homes there, she said a majority of certified nursing assistants are Haitian and estimates about half are TPS recipients.
"They put the patient in the bed, feed them, clothe them, give them snacks, comb their hair, change them, turn them every two hours. It's not an easy job," said Nerette.
It's not just the workers who will suffer, she said, it's the patients, too.
As a former nursing assistant, Nerette said she formed bonds with her patients. That's something you can't replace, she said.
"When you do patient care, it's more than a job," she said. "It becomes a calling. ... That's what I'm supposed to do. That's where God put me."
Nerette came from Haiti and sought asylum in the U.S. about 30 years ago. She's now a U.S. citizen. When employees tell her they're scared of possibly having to go back, she understands.
"If Haiti was OK for us to go, a lot of us will choose to leave the country and give the government what they wish," said Nerette, "But unfortunately for us, we don't have no country to go [to]."
In February, both R. and A.J. had braced for the end of Haiti's TPS designation — until a federal court paused the termination.
"We've become so close. I just couldn't see her leaving me," said A.J. "When you're 91 years old, you need somebody who helps you, who knows your habits, knows your needs."
R. said it's tough living with the uncertainty as she waits for the Supreme Court's decision.
An effort to extend TPS protections for Haitians is also making its way through Congress. After a discharge petition secured a majority of votes from members of the House, a bill restoring TPS will go to a floor vote, and, if passed, to the Senate.
R. says she misses her family in Haiti and worries about them daily.
"Every day, when I wake up, I say, 'Thank you, God, for the night,' and I take my cellphone to know how my family is doing," said R.
She hasn't seen her son, who is now 18, for 11 years now.
"My son sometimes cry and say he miss me" R. said.
She tells him she can't go back because she has to continue working to provide for her family. Returning to her home country could also put her at risk of extortion, R. said, when gang members "find out you have money."
When she left Haiti, she didn't know it would be for this long.
But as she says goodbye to A.J. for the day, she feels some relief knowing she'll be back again tomorrow.
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