The problem with being a nurse is, after a while, you see things. Weird things. Things you never learned about in nursing school. Things that get tucked away in the back of your mind, never to be thought of again, until one morning you wake up. Catch a whiff of something unexpected. And panic.
Why? Because that unexpected scent can only mean one thing. Your baby has maple syrup disease.
Read MoreI’ve never been what you would call a strong swimmer. When it comes to bodies of water, large and small, I’m more of what you would call a potential drowning victim. Maybe that’s why a scene from the movie Gattaca has always stuck with me.
Read MorePicture Clint Eastwood. A scruffy, rotting, bitter Clint Eastwood with black gangrenous toes and fingers. That’s my patient for the next twelve hours.
“I’m hungry!” he shouts while I stand in his room trying to get report from the night shift nurse. And by shout, I mean whispers. The man can barely swallow his own saliva, let alone shout. But when he does whisper, it’s filled with a gravelly gusto that refuses to be ignored.
Read MoreFor years, whenever I tinkered with the idea of writing a novel, I inevitably hit the same brick wall. What on earth do I write about? What if it stinks? Writing a novel is a serious commitment, after all. I certainly didn’t want to hitch myself to a novel that stinks.
Read MoreCalm down. I know some of you started squirming as soon as you read the word gynecologist. Don’t worry. No awkward details about probing and prodding will be included in this blog post. We all know that’s the type of conversation best tucked away and saved for lulls during Thanksgiving dinner.
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