June 24, 2015- Welfare

So there I was, walking up and down the country hillside trying to improve my endurance and stamina after all the Dengue nonsense. Country roads are very cathartic for someone like me, who needs the peaceful sounds of birds instead of traffic, beautiful shades of green in every direction. Out here in the "sticks" of Martin County, it truly feels like God's country. Until one looks down and sees broken beer bottles and beer cans in the grassy ditches, and random remains of styrofoam. The Walmart shopping bags weighed down by nature's trash; things like old limbs, rocks from the road, and unfortunately the carcass of what appeared to be a large turtle. With the passing of years, these country roads have gone through their own facelift of sorts. The term is "chip and seal"- instead of old gravel roads, they are covered in such a way that it appears to be asphalt, but it isn't. I'm not into road maintenance so I can't tell you what it's made out of. Of course, like most plastic surgery, botox and other ways to keep up with beauty, the chip and seal wears out slowly over time. So, that time is now for Love Cemetery Road. The rains have etched vains of worn paths in the road, that is now mostly rock. The underground springs have helped to soften the Earth and the forces of humanity have not been able to correct the uneven, lowered sections of road. If two cars meet, one will likely bottom out on the side with the large crater shaped divot.
When I looked at the various items that fill the ditches of my road home, I got to thinking that I should come and pick up the trash, remove the old, long dead limbs. It's unsettling to see my country side so poorly cared for and I wandered who's job it was to keep up with situations like this.
Like a smack to the forehead that you might give the poor soul in your passenger seat when you see a "Stop Ahead" sign- I realized that it is my job. And yours, and his and hers. Any able bodied person should do their part to take care of the small slice of Earth that they inhabit. Saying to yourself "someone will do it" or "they should pay someone to ..." sounds a lot like "it's not my job". No, I didn't throw out the cans or the 44oz soda cup from the Marathon station.
So why is it my job? Well, with social media or unsocial media, depending how you look at it, there have been many discussions about the Welfare system here in the US. There are some that argue that the Welfare system makes those who need the services, dependent on the very system that is trying to give them a hand up during hard times. The nature of "giving" with no requirement for a return of goods or services sounds like a sure fire way to keep people eternally under your thumb. The paradox is that receiving unearned benefits and continuing to exploit the system that provides them, the benefactors of this "welfare" have actually given up their chance, their freedom, to enjoy life to the fullest. Which doesn't sound like a good deal to me and it certainly doesn't sound like a free handout. More like a free hand-down.
Are Welfare recipients the only ones involved in this unending merry-go-round? How am I any different? I have similar expectations of the government and businesses- maintain my roads AND their ditches, ensure that my drinking water is clean, my power is on, and for Pete's sake that I have a cell phone signal out here in the sticks. Of course, there are many things paid for with the taxpayers money. My question is, what am I exploiting at the expense of myself and other taxpayers?
I'm paying taxes that fund many programs. In reality, I'm paying to go through life without any real social responsibilities, because since I pay taxes, it's not my job. It's not my job to clean ditches, to sweep streets, or to do my part to keep my community, a community worth keeping. Is that the progress we've made? Instead of living in a community, we live in a cocoon; dependent on someone else to take care of "it". Needing more and more, demanding programs to be funded to take care of "it". Children go hungry. Not on other continents, just down the street. Contaminated water, not in the local lake but in the faucets in our kitchens and bathrooms. Outrageous tax bills to take care of "it", because none of us realized that our blind acceptance of having someone else do "it", when "it" should have been us all along.
Aren't we exploiting resources? Aren't we going to see the large thumb we are about to be put under?
Ever wonder how it became someone else's job? Imagine a few generations from now. Will social responsibility even exist?

June 7, 2015

It's been quite awhile since I've blogged. A lot has happened and I must admit it's been a bit of a game changer for me.

Isn't that what a lot of us want- an experience, or an encounter, that somehow clears the fog of our busy minds, uncovering the hidden truth that we've known was there all along? Somehow miraculously unlocking the secret to our best life ever.

A wonderful woman that I knew when I lived in Las Vegas, has made it her mission to help women learn radiant self care. She put together a retreat and in April I boarded a plane bound for Bali, Indonesia- perfectly a half a world away. On a phone call before making the decision, the investment in myself, I straight up admitted I had no idea what qualified as self care. It was always kind of a vague, sentimental idea for people who had time to do yoga, meditate and straighten out their chakras, whatever that means. 

Regardless of what my misconceptions were of self-care, I knew that after my severe depressive episode in November, there was nothing to lose.

I arrived in Bali 2 days before the rest of the group. I like experiencing things on my own for the sole purpose of having my own inner dialogue regarding a whole new world. It was so crowded. I mean... the first idea I ever had of Bali was the first thing proven wrong. It is not a quiet, vacation paced island catering to travelers searching for quiet bliss. Although, I was shocked to find our gorgeous villas only 1/2 a block off the main road and tranquil, beautiful bliss was everywhere inside the walls of our home away from home. I imagine that a lot of the resorts were similar. 

I took it upon myself to go to the Bali Zoo and ride an elephant. I don't know why this was so important to me, but it was and I am thankful I did it. These creatures are amazing. I hate that I used them for my entertainment. Tokunga was my 13 year old elephant. I did get to feed her, but knowing they secured all the elephants with chains, and some had wounds on them, who knows what from, I felt as if I had taken advantage of and continued to encourage a practice that is ultimately against the right of the animal. I now feel a responsibility towards elephants, even if I don't know quite how that is going to pan out or what that "responsibility" looks like.

Our time in Bali was phenomenal. To be blatantly honest. It was a time to get real. To dive deep into the broken parts of ourselves, call bullshit on the things we used as excuses, and to forgive, accept, release, anything and everything that was blocking us from our authentic, true self. To finally find worth and value in our very own existence, just as we are. Faults and all.

Maybe you are wondering what kind of things does someone "get real" about. 

My "stuff" was really your garden variety shamefulness. (too many anti-depressants and hospitalizations; two failed marriages; never enough willpower; not enough 'having it all together'). Sometimes confronting these thoughts out loud and head on- gives them the light that is needed to fully realize that they aren't useful, that they are only destructive. And it gives you the strength to silence your inner negative voice and replace it with the loving patience of your very own kind hearted soul. By getting rid of your negative Nancy you can actually start feeling capable to chase down, not only the things you need, but also the things you want and the things you desire. And that my friends is some pretty powerful stuff. 

My first few steps on Indiana soil were filled with nausea and seering head pain. I just wanted to get home. Well...after a few trips to the ER and a week long hospitalization, I apparently got Dengue Fever. Damn Mosquitos. It has been a month since I returned to Indiana, when I first started showing symptoms and high fevers (103.9!!). Ask me how I feel today? I don't have a lot of energy. I feel like I just worked a week of 12 hour night shifts in a row. My joints hurt, my head hurts, and the only symptom that really doesn't bother me is the skin peeling off my feet. (It's totally gnarly.)

So, the moral of the story is, wear mosquito repellant.

A month home.

I look at the clock now- 12:52 pm. By this time tomorrow I will have said my goodbyes and shed a million tears for the love of my life, Beetle. A dog who has spent a decade as my constant companion. Living in apartments, spending 13 and 14 hours alone while I worked, and never failing to greet me with an excited and adorable butt wiggle with her helicopter tail. She has protected me her entire life. Barking at the slightest hint of danger, and sometimes that was a plastic grocery bag. Now, as she lays next to my bed at night with her labored breathing that only stops when she hears me move and she wants to know what I'm doing. Then after the brief holding of breath, her rapid, noisy panting continues. I hear her up at night and we sometimes go outside so she can do her business. I have to go with her. It's the hardest thing to watch. The arthritis in her hips makes her gait uneven. Her shortness of breath makes the distance she can walk without stopping, shorter and shorter. She can not lift her head up, maybe the arthritis has also affected her neck, or maybe she doesn't have the energy to pant for so long and lift her head at the same time. She no longer sits. She lays down, or she stands. If she stands she makes sure she can move without needing to back away from anything. 

I have cried every night listening to her ceaseless panting. Looking in her eyes, seeing the fatigue, and what I can only call defeat. She doesn't get to spring up and chase the cat. She doesn't get to run out to the driveway and greet the newest arrival. She doesn't even bark anymore when a car drives by. My beautiful Beetle who would ride in the back seat, resting her head on my shoulder or barking out the windows. My funny Beetle who always wanted to go through peoples' legs so they would rub her back. My precocious and strong Beetle that used to require the "Gentle Leader" in order to be walked, is now going to require someone to carry her and lift her into the car. If I were going to do the last day of her life that way. But, no...there will be no more car rides, or barking to defend my honor. There will be no more snow dogs, making snow angels in long forgotten tennis courts. She will rest in my arms for her very last breath, here beside the bed that I sleep in, in the spot that she has taken up as her guard post for all these years. I will pray that she forgives me for not noticing sooner that she was sick. I will tell her that she's my best girl and that I love her. And then, I'll never be the same again.

December 30, 2014

Nursing is a contact sport. Don't let anyone fool you..it's not all about holding sweet old lady's hands and swaddling new born babies. And by contact, I mean CONTACT. Blood, sweat and tears are the easy things. Aggression, fear, confusion, medical futility, and personal failure. Oh, and poop. Did I mention the poop? 12 hours of being a nurse, in my experience, is like doing Improv. One room needs a Drill Sargent, the next room would prefer a French Maid. One room can't keep their blood pressure up and the other room has projectile fluids coming out at an every 2 minute interval. There is no way to apologize enough to the 45 year old man, who had to lay in his own liquid feces, because there was no one to answer his call. To say to him, that you were in the other room withdrawing life support on a patient and could not get away does nothing for anyone. Well, that's not true.. it makes him "unsatisfied" with his care. The family of the dying patient next door? In what way could that experience EVER be satisfying. So on a day like this, my corporate sponsorship would say I failed at our mission of customer satisfaction. That is the least of my worries. Maybe you are saying to yourself that there are OTHER nurses that could have helped, or that it can't be possible that there was NO ONE else around. Well, there were. They were taking a lunch break. Some so tired they lay down in a recliner in hopes of getting a little disco nap. Some rush through lunch knowing they can't be gone long because it just isn't fair to those "left behind" and some relish each and every second of their break trying to figure out of all the personalities they have had to use that day which one has left the most residue on them. It boils down to emotions- some days it's weary, or heartbroken. Some days it's angry and annoyed at the completely unrealistic expectations that someone is holding of you. Ironically, on that day it is a double edged sword. A nurse will grind their teeth through their shift and mentally destroy themselves on the way home for not being "better". For me, this year, there were more times than I would like to admit that I drove home just hateful. At who?? The sick and the dying? No. The families? No. The co-workers? No. Big business? Maybe a little or some days a lot. 
For me it was a self-destructive hate of my incompetence. Why couldn't I do better? I should have done more. I hate myself for not caring anymore whether my patient lives or dies. Which, for me, turned into, I just can't do it anymore. I no longer cared about leaving the family of a dying patient to go fetch more water for the self-titled royalty in the other room. I was invisible. I felt nothing but apathy. I hated who I had become. I woke up exhausted and went to sleep too tired to rest. Every shift there were little things that needed to be done, things that ten years ago weren't even a blip on the radar. Most of the time I think that I always do what I can, so this time, I'm going to leave it for someone else. Why bother? My apathy about changing a perfectly good central line dressing changed to apathy about what to eat, then about what to do. Why bother? It doesn't make a difference. No one will even notice. I became invisible even to myself.
Suicide is an enigma to me. On one hand, I just want relief from the horrific lifelessness. On the other hand, I don't want my suicide to add trauma to anyone else's life or for heaven's sake hurt anyone else. Believe it or not, I would want my family to think that I died peacefully. I would not leave a note. I would be found listening to Frank Sinatra's "My Way". ...the record shows, I took the blows and did it my way.
The ability to hold on to the very smallest shred of light is a mystery to me. Convincing myself time after time that if I just went to work I would be busy and distracted. I can't cry in a patient's room so just the physical location of work would make it better. Until you're on the bathroom floor in an empty patient's room, in tears hating yourself for being there, again. Hating yourself for being weak. Your inner voice demanding to get it together! Hating myself for letting down my co-workers. Hating myself because I knew what was coming next. But...and here is the enigma, not giving a shit. I don't care has no truer meaning than at that moment. I do not care. That's the waiting room to hell.
This is not job burn out. This is loss of a love you once had for a profession you were proud to be a part of. Loss of the essence of who you have been for the last 20 years, if you count school.
I beg of you to not keep pushing away your signs of burn out. To care more about your health, your family, your happiness than anything your corporate sponsorship can offer you. I can tell you this for sure, the 1% raise ($0.32) was no way close to being worth it. Protect your love of life, family, and passion...it will always serve you better in the end.

May your New Year be Merry and Bright-
Brooke

June 10, 2014

September 22, 2072- The obituary of Brooke Diane Albertson, 96, beloved author, philanthropist, and winner of the Noble Peace Prize, died peacefully at her estate in Southern Indiana. She proceeds in death her Nephew Treyton Baker and Niece Teagan Ann Kennedy (Ash)- and their children and grand-children who were with her on her last days. She is best known for her humorous and insightful memoirs that she published throughout her 40's, as well as her role in the development of the current healthcare system in the United States. It was her interest in ethical healthcare that led her to co-write legislation requiring that every citizen over the age of 35 had to declare their personal resuscitation preference in the event of their death.
Ms. Albertson was married twice in her life, both ending in divorce. She has no children. Over the decades she was linked with several high profile men, including President Smith, the first single man ever to be elected President. The two met on his insistence after seeing her acceptance speech for the Noble Peace Prize in 2028. That speech continues to be broadcast at commencement ceremonies at Universities around the US.
Brooke remained America's "girl next door" even in the lime light of her success. Her estate in Indiana, as well as her Italian villa will be donated to the respective cities to be used as Centers of Inquiry for Young Women- a program that helps women learn how to cultivate their dreams and wishes into reality.
She will be cremated and her ashes spread off the dock at her lakeside home in Indiana, where she spent many hours entertaining guests, writing, and living her dream come true.

so there!
:-)

May 26, 2014

I have had the unusual pleasure of getting to know an attractive man, very well traveled, with a beautiful girlfriend, who has such an interesting take on life that I walked for hours today thinking about it. He has opted to not believe in love and marriage, or raising a family, but instead has chosen to, simply put, be happy. At first blush, one might say..no shit Sherlock, but the reality is far more exciting to me. How does one "be happy"? He defines it as fulfilled, not needing anything. He has apparently thought about this, and has enough self awareness to know that those are his terms and they suit him perfectly. His path in life has helped shape his experience of happiness and fulfillment and I think that just contemplating a happy life long enough to come up with your own definition is pretty remarkable this day and age. 
Happy. It's such a peppy word. On a biological level, happiness shows up in the song that I hum, the smile I wear...But how do I get there...is it the presence of something, the absence of something? A freaking double shot of espresso caffeine high?
I know for me, happiness is a feeling of relaxation in my own skin, my own being. Opting to aim for healthy and happy instead of a number on a scale or dress size, has literally taken one incredibly, loud and nagging bitch in my head and stuffed a sock in her mouth. She was incessant.  She was obnoxious and she always managed to kill my confidence. The absence of overly critical, unrealistic self judgment has helped me be happy.
I like to listen to music and get lost in my thoughts. Both activities send me to millions of different places, memories, daydreams, and neither activity is ever the same, no matter how many times I've done it. Allowing myself time to reminisce, delve into difficult and thought provoking issues, to daydream various love stories, war stories, and future possibilities are absolutely among my favorite things to do. I guess that if you had to ask me what hobbies I have, I wouldn't be lying by answering "Thinking".
I have no need for anything. My want list is of course a mile long. I have the means to meet every physical, mental, emotional, blah blah blah need and I'm certain that is a huge blessing. A roof, food, running water...the basics and then some. So the absence of stress regarding fundamental needs helps me to be happy.
Nowhere in this list does my happiness depend on someone else. More often than not, someone else's presence may even be a source of "less than happy" or even unhappiness. I try to minimize that as much as possible, which tends to look like me being short tempered and uncompromising. If my two failed marriages have taught me anything, in my life, a husband is unnecessary. So I would agree with him on that, marriage is not required for happiness.
Ahhh... But Love.
To not believe in love, well, I can't even fathom it.
Happiness is, in its purest form, the love of something.
I will always believe in love. The good, bad, and tragedy of it all. I will not shy away from injustice, inequality or unfairness, all things common with love. Let them come and embrace me. May I feel each pang of anger, each stabbing hurt- and then, I will know who I am.
I'm very open about how I arrived at this moment. Knowing me, reading my Blog, or maybe even sharing in the very sacred parts of my life- you know that I laugh easily and don't take myself too seriously (anymore). I enjoy being a Nurse, an Aunt, a friend, a dog owner, and a sarcastic and witty (albeit bitingly so sometimes) writer. I am tongue in cheek and the deepest of thoughts and I did not arrive here gracefully, and for that I am very grateful.
In the midst of my suicidal days, all those days back, I remember pleading to just stop the feeling of torment. Breathing, crying and praying for death- wearing a fractured soul, having no life in me, but living all the same- those moments gave me bliss. Without that path, I cringe to think how lacking my life would be now. It took being completely shattered to open space up for happiness (not new car happiness, or winning the lottery happiness- although I would be willing to test that theory- those are just fleeting, mortal moments)...but inevitably, being surrounded by the broken and the bandaged, the lowest of us low souls, I was blessed with happiness in ways it would take me years to understand. Without that mental break, I would not have been able to experience the enormous range of joy possible. I did not learn humility by winning every game. I did not learn humor without experiencing sorrow.
I did not learn who I was until I was lost from myself and I would never have known great love until I went all in and ended up losing at it.
So, I do not want a painless life or to learn how to avoid hardships completely. I will not be afraid of a broken heart, or living a childless life, because in the middle of all that living, I will know bliss.

Yours,
Brooke

May 16, 2014

Something happens when you fall in love. It is a beautiful, light, giddy feeling. It's that ridiculous perma-grin you wear around and how you whistle walking through the rain drops. The beloved one, the reason for your bliss has surely been chosen because of the years of testing and trials with others that just never quite worked. A day, a week, a moment into the whole gorgeous thing and flashes of happily ever after roll through your mind. At first they might only be snippets of thoughts and visions, but as you get more comfortable with the beloved your mind allows those snippets to become full on technicolor hopes, wishes and dreams. Pintrest has nothing on the future you've built in your mind with this perfect mate. Happily ever after begins in the lives of two people who want nothing more than to share in the love and joy they have found in each other. So thankful to have found and to have been found, feeling blessed that finally things seem to be falling in place. This is where Love is at it's best. Acting on its best behavior and going through life with the greatest of ease. But I'll-be-go- to-hell if Life doesn't come right along and punch Love in the gut. Life can be such a bully. Demanding and demeaning, Life pulls out no stops to keep the tides turning. Joining two complex minds with rich pasts of various forms of hurts, pains, betrayals, and finely honed lists of expectations, Life has a buffet of ammunition to use against Love when Love is at its most vulnerable. Love is strong and very powerful. It can hold two souls together through the most traumatic of experiences- Love will step in front of a bullet or a speeding car. Love will surrender its last breath for the beloved one to continue on. Now, besides those high stake moments of life and death, the majority of the time Life is whispering in the ear saying nagging little things about what Love should be doing, what Love would be doing if only, and generally undermining Love's feelings of "we" and reinforcing the feelings of "me". Life likes to keep score and flaunt who's winning, which never seems to be Love- it's always the Beloved. Love begins to feel undervalued, unappreciated, and over worked. Life always has that secret weapon, the kryptonite to Love's blissful life- Fear. Fear acts on Love in subtle, sneaky ways. It has the innate ability to put emotions into play that just don't make sense. Fear knows those past hurts, pains and betrayals and dresses up in them as current, massive issues, when in fact they don't belong in the present at all. Fear takes up residence in the backseat of the mind, while anger, doubt, and frustration drive the whole damn train of chaos. All the while, Life skips around sprinkling usual daily stress with the occasional full on crisis to keep Love teetering on the edge of uneasiness and complete breakdown. Now our couple in Love is not living in some tiny vacuum..of course not, they live in the big world with the rest of us- there are families, jobs, coworkers, money, health issues, bills, terrorist attacks, natural disasters and about a million different ways that two people are interacting with the world around them, you know, trying to survive.

Because the two are in their Happily Ever After, they don't think to really DO anything about it in the beginning..you know, because it's just Life. Love and Beloved argue and fight and go forward thinking it'll just blow over, that things will get back to normal, back to that blissful stage when Life couldn't put a dent in Love. But the scorecards keep getting added up, Fear keeps flashing old pain in their minds' eyes and Life exhausts the two. No longer fighting for the same team, Love and Beloved are lost in a storm of Life's creation and they can't remember who "we" were and are struggling to just keep the "me" alive. Doubt in Love causes a bigger divide and can be the knife that cuts through the hearts of Love and Beloved. Fighting for Love when the two are on different teams is rarely the way to win at Love. Love must remember how to win at LIFE. 

1. Be gracious for the day at hand- do not take for granted.

2. Be courageous in the face of Fear, but also be smart. Arm yourself with self awareness, the healing of past pains, and a healthy self-esteem. Do not delay healing your soul.

3. Don't sweat the small stuff. Learn to let go of the perfect for the wonderful.

4. Take care of your health- physical, mental, emotional and spiritual- get check ups in each of these and don't deny needs when they arise. 

5. Seek first to understand then to be understood.

6. Do things that make you laugh...and do them as often as possible.

7. Own your issues and don't blame them on anyone else. Giving someone else ownership strips you of your power to deal with them. 

8. Look forward to tomorrow and have a "tool box" of ideas for making it the best day ever. 

9. Don't do anything in excess- eat, drink, sleep, work- find balance in all areas of your life. 

10. Learn to quiet your mind, control your thoughts, and manipulate those thoughts into loving, helpful, and beneficial thoughts only. Do not believe everything you think, especially if it's hurtful or negative. 

11. Choose to love and be loving, but don't forget to be lovable. 

12. Know yourself, through and through, and love that person the most. 

Dear Love and Beloved-

I know things are awful right now and that no amount of anything seems to make a difference. Be patient, be kind, and don't forget why you picked each other for your Happily Ever After. The best love stories are those of triumph over heartbreak...be each other's love story, but also be each other's Love. 

Forever Yours Truly,

Brooke

May 6, 2014

If I had to pick one thing that has had the biggest impact on my life, it would be that I chose to become a nurse. Now, I didn't really give myself much credit 20 years ago when I was graduating from high school in small, rural Loogootee, Indiana. I just figured I could be either a nurse or a teacher. Nothing else, and I mean, nothing (not even being a writer) was even an option. I'm thankful that my Mom planted the seed of a college education and never let it waver. Back then I was still living inside a zip code. I had seen more Amish people in my life than anyone of a different color or race. Can you imagine thinking that seeing a horse and buggy at the Dairy Queen drive thru was more normal than seeing a Black or Hispanic person?

It didn't take long outside of that zip code to open my mind up to the curiosity of different faces and places. A restlessness grew inside and I took advantage of every opportunity. Have nursing license, will travel- and I did. Looking back, my first trip out of country was to France. I was still in college and I went on a guided tour alone. I'm shocked that my parents held themselves together so well. As much as they had the right to put their foot down, they never really discouraged me from doing anything. Hmmm...I should be sure to thank them again and again and again - but sorry Dad...when you get old and senile, you're still going in a home! :-0

So after graduating college I was out...trust me, there were better options than the one I chose, but in reality, I wouldn't change anything. Back then I was much more serious than I am now- who knew it would take growing up to learn how to be silly, an art I would like to think I have perfected at this point. 

It was because of being a nurse that I have had the opportunity to impact lives, not by medications or dressing changes, but by caring. Learning to make a stranger as important to me as my own mother or father, sister or friend. There are so many foreheads that I've cooled with a cold wash cloth, and hands that I have held in dark, quiet rooms. The prayers, the tears, the inner screaming "God please do something" as I performed CPR on 4 month old Joseph, to no avail. Fighting the good fight, and a lot of times fighting a losing battle, against my will, if my will were ever even allowed a choice. The suffering isn't always in the patient lying in the bed. I believe the majority of the suffering is experienced by those left behind when that bed becomes empty, because the ones left to live on will carry that with them. There takes a certain mindset to embrace the care of a dying patient. I consider it an honor. To be at the passing of a life is like nothing else in nursing. Sometimes it's quiet, expected, and solemn, with families surrounding the patient. Sometimes it's violent. CPR, bright lights, alarming monitors, and loud, urgent voices. Even when studies show the survival rate of someone who has coded in a hospital are only 20% or something, we still carry on the beating of a body into submission for the sake of possibly living another day. When does the body's will to die become less important than the mind's will to live. Of course our mind will want to live, in my mind I'm still celebrating my 30th birthday, and would never think of giving up, until someone, maybe a nurse, or a loved one, reminds me that I am the mind of a 30 yr old, but not the body. What's the saying...It's not the age, it's the odometer reading! Our body is only as strong as it's weakest link. 

Life has unfolded in front of me and destinies have played out. I have seen the best and worst there is and still manage to love my job. I don't do it for the money. Most people I know, that aren't in the medical field, have said "You couldn't pay me enough to do what you do." You're probably right I say. What is the value of a nurse? What is the value of the person in the hospital for 12 hours at a time taking care of your neighbor, your teacher, your grandparent, your child, you? What price tag can be put on caring for those in need? Possibly saving a life, and sometimes not?

I have the answer. 

Allow me to care for my patients, pay me a competitive market wage, and give me the resources and time that allow me to do the best that I can. Being able to make a difference in a person's life is it's own reward, don't crush that, take it for granted, or brush it aside as insignificant. Don't demolish that place in my heart and soul that allows me to work non-stop for 12 hours, giving everything I have physically, mentally, and emotionally. If you commercialize and reduce Nursing "Care" into strict numbers and budgets, supply chains and quotas, you will break me, my spirit, and my love for a profession that is already taxed and damaged. I cringe at the thought of being a patient 30 years from now. I will not have my children at my side, because they don't exist, my family will also be aging, and when I'm there in that hospital bed, the last thing I want is someone who is supposed to be nursing me back to health making me feel like a number instead. And should the time come that the will of my body has met it's end, may there be a nurse there that will take the time to wipe my forehead and hold my hand in my dark quiet room.

Yours,

Brooke