Double Holiday Miles and Good Advice

Hanukkah and Thanksgiving, together. What a perfect day, warm, sunny, the massive white peaks of Longs on the west horizon, great day for a run, listening to the geese arriving home for the winter in giant V formations across the sky. I did 7 miles, plus a few walks with the girls. Not many miles today, saving it up for the next few days, when I'll want to be out there in the quiet.

The cottonwoods are just as impressive bare as they are with their leaves.

Early Thanksgiving morning I will go over to Windsor and help with registration and packet pickup for the Pelican Lakes 5K, and after that I might run the race. Probably will, but not 100% sure.

I figure I will get plenty of short runs in between cooking spells all day Thursday. That's the plan- put something in the oven, go for a run, come back and check on it, go for another run.

I always love running around the holidays. There's less traffic and the streets are quiet. Except for Black Friday. Ugh. "Corporate Greed Friday". I try not to spend any money on Black Friday and try not to drive anywhere, either. I like to run, far away from the busy sections of town where shoppers might be driving.

Today I stopped by the liquor store, something I haven't done since before I stopped working at the hospital. I have not even wanted beer or anything since I quit work. Amazing. I thought I'd get some beer in case we wanted some on Thanksgiving while the liquor stores are closed.

I found this new organic lager by New Belgium, called California Route- they collaborated with Patagonia- speaking of corporations- and produced this citrusy hoppy beer that is pretty good for a lager, in a can. It reminds me of a tamed-down version of Dale's Pale Ale. Very tame. But I like it. And they are donating proceeds to flood relief in Colorado after our September flood.

So I partied with the girls this afternoon, and Iris went crazy over the new beer. She had to check it out, she protested not being able to taste it and then when I finally let her smell it, she didn't want it. She doesn't like hoppy beers, she's more of a dark, chocolatey stout, porter or dark ale drinker.

Isabelle doesn't like beer all that much. She prefers to hang out with her mom and watch Iris throw a temper tantrum.

It's Hanukkah, and I don't do Hanukkah. We don't do Black Friday. I don't do Christmas, and Dennis barely does. I'm not into religious holidays, and certainly not the spending and consumption that goes with them. I do Solstice, and New Years. They are running holidays for me. Might as well be my religion.

But speaking of religion...

while I'm on it, what the Pope said.

I like this Pope. I wish people would listen to him. He has some good messages that really ought to be listened to by more than just Catholics. Because there are a lot of people who really need to hear this message. I know it will go in one ear and out the other for those people with no social conscience.

Times like these make me extra thankful that I never had kids because I wouldn't want to try to raise them in this world the way things are, and I certainly wouldn't want to leave them in this world that my generation has screwed up so badly. At this point things are so screwed up that I don't think anything can fix us. Unless we drop a bomb on the whole planet and obliterate it and whatever life form is left starts over.

But I hope the kids like my niece and nephews, the so-called Millenials, will be different, and find a way to salvage their world after their greedy, shortsighted predecessors from my generation and the one after mine die off.

And speaking of religion, here's the best quote ever from the running legend himself, snagged this one from my Badwater buddy Chris Roman's Facebook page today.

"My advice is that you should use your brains more and train less."
- Yiannis Kouros

Might as well be the Pope speaking.

Happy Thanksgiving, Hanukkah, or whatever you want it to be. Just be happy.

Book Review: The Summit Seeker

I recently had the opportunity to review a book on ultrarunning. I'm not really sure what prompted the author to contact me and ask me to review it, but I'm glad she did. I wrote a shorter version of this post as a book review for my running column in our local paper, it will be published on December 8th.

I wanted to say more and the newspaper column only allows so many words. I also wanted to expand a little more on the places where her book took me, personally. So this version is a book review with my own personal commentary inserted here and there, on what it meant to me, and the memories her book brought back to me. Because it touched me a lot more than most books on running ever do.

There has been a mini-proliferation of books about ultramarathons and ultra athletes in recent years, mostly written by or about the fastest and most recognized names in the sport.

The Summit Seeker is different. Written by Vanessa, a young woman new to the sport, she describes a life experience that differs from many ultrarunners, who are often from middle-class backgrounds, have mainstream jobs and careers, generous disposable income, and fairly conventional lifestyles.

In running as well as other sports, much attention is paid to the statistics: the fastest and most competitive. Unless a person is a high-achieving athlete by these standards, it is rare to hear the human story of what drives them to become an ultrarunner. Those stories need to be told.

I think that people are afraid of telling their own stories. They are afraid to share their fears, mistakes, and rough spots. People want so badly to conform and fit in, because they see the pain inflicted upon those who don’t.

Then there are the ones who are always seeking, looking for what’s out there, to go beyond the fences and limits that don’t really exist. When they express themselves fearlessly, they can pay a price in going against the grain, but the beauty of a diamond in the rough is worth the price.

Vanessa tells her story of growing up with El Salvadorean immigrant parents, who crossed two borders with her to land in Toronto, where Vanessa grew up under conditions of economic and emotional poverty.

After losing her mother at age nine and growing up with a father who imposed his strict religious standards and expectations on her, she became a caretaker for her siblings, and had very little given to her in nurturance and support.

Her inner strength drove her to pursue means of escape whenever possible, her restlessness tempered by self-reliance. She made mistakes along the way, but gained wisdom and perspective in her physical transience, resulting in maturity that often comes later in life.

Her desire to run took her to the streets and cold lakeshores of Toronto until she ran a marathon and decided to break free. She left for San Diego, discovering a new social world among ultrarunners on the trails.

She eventually met her partner, Shacky, with whom she still lives in an RV along with their dog and cat. They travel the country and run as many trails as they can find. Along the way, Vanessa finds herself comfortable and at peace.

Ultrarunning is a sport that demands confidence, self-reliance and outrunning fear. While none of us are ever completely in control of our lives, Vanessa is in control of who she is. She experiences the anxiety of being new in the sport and exploring new distances, but enters them fearlessly, because she knows who she is. Grounded despite her nomadicism, she is determined to live life simply, being true to herself, and enjoy it without guilt, qualities that are rare.

Vanessa has the refreshing voice of a young woman expressing herself in a way that’s self-assured. She embraces the uncertainties of life and plows ahead anyway, she’s a great example to so many people who get sidetracked along the way by unimportant things: appearance, weight, competition, and what other people think.

Women often have a different experience when running ultras than men do. Despite so many changes in our cultural attitudes toward women, some things are still unchanged. Women are held to certain standards and expectations, which varies with many factors. Women are still told what they should and shouldn't do, or can and can't do. To resist means you have to exercise your strength and independence, which does not always gain approval.

I love that Vanessa explores places without fear. I did that from childhood and I can completely relate to going out in places where people would be freaked out by a woman being out there alone. I trust my sixth sense, too, and I don't let other people's fears hold me back.

As a kid I loved exploring the woods in Pennsylvania, and later, the desert and forests in Arizona, whenever I had the opportunity to go off by myself, or with other people who shared an appreciation of the outdoors. Even when I'd go backpacking with other people, once we got to our destination, I'd always go off exploring on my own.

When I started running ultras in my 20s, about the same age as Vanessa was, there were very few women running ultras. It was just something they didn’t do, didn't even think of, had never heard of, and/or didn’t have time for, with families, jobs, expectations.

If I wanted running partners, I had to run with the guys, or I ran alone. Usually I ran alone, and all these years later, I still do. I've been lucky over the years to make some great friends through ultrarunning, in the many hours of covering trails and roads you learn so much about each other.

It's a chance to spend time with a person, shared effort, shared company, shared scenery, and shared pain, experiences we rarely share with other people all at once, in any place in our lives. But I equally, if not more, love the solitude of running outdoors, alone, hearing the wind, seeing the landscape, and taking it all in, unadulterated by others' voices and perspectives.

Reading Vanessa's book, there were several times I found myself so emotionally moved by her words that I found myself crying, at the cruelty of her childhood: the dog that despite her best efforts as a child, got neglected, losing her mom at a young age, how her dad treated her, the hypocrisy of religion that she discovers, her intense restlessness and desire to escape.

My own similar, parallel experiences growing up, I believe, also led me to my own restlessness and desire to escape, and eventually, pushing my own physical limits, living in the back of my truck with my dog in the woods, my independence and the things I did that were far from the norm for women.

Vanessa describes life in her RV, and I remember the times of resisting the mainstream lifestyle, in my 20s moving to Crested Butte and waiting tables, running and mountain biking, living on as little as possible, trying to avoid "getting a life".

But when I finally caved and "got a life", I tried three different times to fit into the "life" and each time I ended up depressed, miserable, and frustrated. There is more to life than conforming. Growing up gifted with many talents it’s hard to find your place in the world. And if you are outspoken, people take it personally and they don’t take criticism well. I'm happy for Vanessa and the life she lives and speaks of, and what she has to say. I hope she lives it as long as she wants to, and keeps saying it.

As I read her book, I remembered some things lost in my memory, that I hadn't thought of in years, and my favorite experiences: an enchanted solo run for hours through a blizzard to the base of Paradise Divide in Crested Butte, the magical night sky in the Lean Horse 100, the stars reflecting along with bioluminescence in the water in the Sea of Cortez on a kayaking trip years ago. And the unmatched wonder of the Death Valley landscape.

The book is a glimpse inside her mind, a beautifully written personal tribute to ultrarunning and all that it means to her. It’s a gift to the sport, contributing her perspective and voice in a time where the voices of everyone but the fastest get lost. It’s written through her uncluttered view of life, from a person who has managed to keep the crazy world from obstructing her vision or blocking her path.

The Summit Seeker will inspire anyone, regardless of running experience. Vanessa prompts us to listen to the instincts of the human animals that we are. Like running barefoot on a trail, it restores our contact with the earth so we can remember what is most important, not necessarily the comforts, but the things that truly enrich our lives.

If you've read this far, then I'm hoping you're interested in reading the book, too. Guess what, there is an opportunity to get a free copy of The Summit Seeker, thanks to the generosity of Vanessa herself. I'm having a giveaway drawing here on this blog. All you have to do is write me at sherunnoftatgmaildotcom and let me know your name and email by December 10th and I will notify you if you are the winner. Please let me know in the e-mail if it's okay if I state your name on this blog. I won't give out your address or e-mail or any personal details, just your name.

If you win, I will write you to ask for your mailing address and you will get a book in the mail in a few weeks. Be patient, it's a small publisher. The book is also available on Amazon. You can also check out Vanessa's website.

Progress!

I feel like I took a giant leap from injured runner to being on the comeback trail.

I had a serious motivation problem this morning, I could not get my butt out the door. I was intimidated by the combination of 20 degrees and gray skies.

It's one thing when the sun is shining, but when there's nothing to warm you up and there's a cold breeze from the north, as mild as it might be, I have a hard time getting out there.

By ten o'clock I'd checked my email, surfed Facebook, and done all the other things and made all the excuses that it's possible to use for procrastination. I knew if I didn't get out I'd be finishing late in the day and I wanted to get it done.

So I dragged my butt out, thinking I'd do 16 miles and ended up with just over 18, slower than snot, but I did it. I had no problem running or moving, it was just slow. My legs were tired and then I remembered I just started the weights this past week and I did squats yesterday.

What really blew me away was when I looked at my running log and figured out how many miles I ran this week: over 47 miles. I wasn't paying attention, didn't realize I got that many miles in. That's progress.

I froze my butt off out there. I dressed the same as I did the morning of 18 degrees and snow, but there was no sun and there was just enough wind to keep me in a constant state of freezing. The threshold for freezing my ass off was exactly the pace I was running. If I stopped or slowed down at all, I was screwed. So I kept moving.

I did stop halfway through at Pelican Marsh Natural Area and sat on a bench, ate a Lara bar, drank some water, and texted my friend Kathy to see if her daughter had her baby yet. Not yet.

A pretty uneventful run but I felt good about the steady pace and no issues.

I noticed something this week. Looking in the mirror I noticed the skin on my face looks different. There are wrinkles there, not sure when they appeared, but it's not from dry skin. The reason I was looking so closely at my face is because I got this HUGE zit on the side of my nose, looks like a new nose is growing there. My face rarely breaks out anymore but this is one lone gigantic mountainous explosion waiting to happen.

I just found it amusing, this big old zit and then I saw the tiny wrinkles in my cheeks, that you can't see unless you look super close. Gray hair, wrinkles, what the hell, it's bound to happen. I just happened to notice. I put extra sunscreen on my face before I went out today. Nothing else I want to do about it. No botox for this chick.

I've earned every one of my gray hairs and wrinkles, and I'm proud of them. I suppose the real test will be in this next year's racing, because I'm hoping that my menstrual cycle has completely stopped. At least I won't have to deal with the race day surprise anymore. The hot flashing has subsided quite a bit recently, and best of all, I have slept through the night almost every single night this past week, since I stopped working at the hospital. Imagine that.

This coming week is Thanksgiving, and I'll be volunteering at the Pelican Lakes 5K in Windsor, doing registration and race packets. I might run the 5K afterwards. Probably will. Lots of studying and writing this week on the agenda. It feels great to be here...

Woman Cave: Winter

Finally, our first taste of winter. I woke up this morning at 4:30 because I planned to meet Josh and go for a run at 6 am. It takes about 20 minutes to run to the spot where I was going to meet him. Nineteen degrees at 4:30 am, and snowing when I went outside to see if I was dressed adequately for the weather. There was a headwind from the north.

I put my Pearl Izumi wind gear on, a shirt, jacket and tights all with windproof panels, and my PI gloves, a few neck gaiters wrapped around my neck and ears, and my Badwater cap to keep the snow out of my eyes. I took off down the street and it wasn't too icy except in the driveways and intersections. I was dressed just right, never got too warm or too cold.

I ran east toward Timberline in the darkness but once I got out of my neighborhood it wasn't dark at all with the streetlights reflecting off the snow. The wind shifted a few times during the run and my face froze on different sides according to where we were going, but I met Josh and we did an out and back on the quiet streets. The snow was deep on the sidewalks where the plows came through but other than that it wasn't bad. We only had about two inches of snowfall at the time. Then I ran home to finish out nine miles, with a tailwind from the east.

At home I did another half hour on the bike and then did my weight workout. Then I went out to the woman cave and studied for a while.

At 11:30 I had an appointment with a massage therapist recommended to me by one of the people I know in the cancer community, I spent some time talking business with her and then got a LONG detox massage with hot stones, lying on top of a heated mat. It was heaven.

I came home and started drinking a lot of water, to flush out all the toxic junk floating around in my body after that. I started cooking some chili and hanging out with the Buffaloes, waiting for their dad to get home from work.

A nice, relaxing day.

60K, Numbers, and Random Thoughts

I'm decompressing, de-stressing, detoxing.

Easing into the work of pursuing my business startup plans, I'm not putting pressure on myself to try to accomplish too much right now. There's plenty of time. I have some great ideas and it's fun to think, plan, and dream. I am starting regular workouts, is all, and making changes to the bad habits I've accumulated in recent months.

Sunday we went down to Boulder to see family and walk around aimlessly. It felt good, no agenda, no plans, no time frame. Monday I went to the pool, ran and swam, did my weight workout, and went for an easy run at sunset. Last night I went out and met a former coworker at Cafe Vino. We had wine and delicious food, and a great talk about all sorts of healthcare-related topics. She is still stuck in the thick of things, but she is looking for a way out and I hope to be able to support her in that.

Today I'm running at the lakes with a friend, I might do three hours but not much more than that. The weather is changing, it's looking more like winter and we're supposed to get some snow later this week.

My motivation is coming back. I haven't decided on any races for next year yet, I think I'll sit back and watch the improvement over the next few months and see where things are. You're only as good as your last race. Speaking of that,

I'm ranked 47th in North America for the 24 hour distance in 2013 and 232nd in the world. Not very impressive. My performance was age graded and ranked me 13th in my age group, women 45-49 for North America. Not very impressive either. That was my 99 mile performance in the frozen wind tunnel of Cleveland last spring. I know I can do so much better. I love 24 hours and that's what I'm going to focus on when I get my strength back.

And 60K, that might be my total weekly mileage this week. But 60K is also what I saw when I bravely jumped on the scale on Sunday. 60 kilograms. That's what I weigh. And I can feel every gram, every ounce, every pound, every kilo.

I know I can drop what I've gained, the additional 9 pounds since April, and more. I'm changing the habits I've gotten into over the past 6 or 7 months, zoning out in front of the computer, eating more than I need to, eating things I shouldn't eat when I'm not active enough, and drinking beer. Discarding the negative energy and stress will go a long way toward helping that.

I'm so lucky to have my beautiful Buffaloes to keep me going through all the rough times. We are a team. We even have streets named after us. It's time to go for a walk...

The Final Purge...

I'm on the other side!

My last day was a weird day, almost too typical and uneventful. It was quiet at work. I even got to go home early.

It started out with a beautiful sunrise...

I started the day by stopping up in ICU and saying goodbye and doing a little happy dance to a friend who was finishing his shift up there and a few other nurses I know who are up there. Then I went down to Oncology and clocked in and started my day by doing a happy dance with my coworkers. Not enough time for twerking before the patients arrived, damn...

During the day I made one last trip down to the blood bank and chose my emotion on the emotion magnet one last time. This magnet has been on the counter since before I ever started there, and the first time I ever went downstairs to the blood bank as a new grad I noticed this thing, and I've always picked out my emotion on it every time.

I can't even tell you how much this little magnet meant to me over the past seven years, being able to get away from the patient floor environment for a little while and stop, breathe, and acknowledge how I was feeling at the moment. It was the most therapeutic item in the entire hospital!

It's funny the little things you notice and hang onto.

And of course I didn't bring lunch so it was one final trip down to the cafeteria for cafeteria glop...

It actually looks a lot better than it tasted.

Today was with good co-workers again, no bullshit. I got through about 7 patients by 2 pm, I said goodbye to about half of them, the ones I knew. I said goodbye to a few more people I have worked with over the past few years. And then my last patient of the day didn't show, and there wasn't much else going on the rest of the day, so it was time to go.

It felt good, it felt right, it didn't feel emotional or disappointing in any way. I think I've processed much of that in the past few months since I made my decision to get out. And even this morning, the usual daily frustrations of using the computers which never seem to work efficiently, reminded me of how sick I am of that. How needless it is.

But it was funny, there was a feature on the employee website about the computers. They picked a few brownnosers, or maybe they just paid those people, which is more likely, to talk about how great EPIC is. Ha! We were rolling our eyes over that one. How do they always manage to paint everything in such an overly fake positive light?

Well I'm ready to leave the hypocrisy behind, the denial that is typical of abusers, those who can never acknowledge the very real problems that exist that are hurting people.

The only hitch, the only thing that stopped me momentarily in my tracks all day was when a patient heard I was leaving and then asked me if I was going to be working at the Cancer Center. I had to choke back the desire to tell what happened. The fantasy of being able to speak the truth:

Oh, the Cancer Center. You mean the one I promoted relentlessly and was a cheerleader for, and raised money and spoke to groups and volunteered my time at work and in the community to support for 5 years? The same one that I spent my time attending cancer support groups for and listening to community members every week for 2 years so I could figure out what the needs of people in the community were for the purpose of developing programs they would benefit from?

The same Cancer Center that when it came time to work on the real substance of the services that would be provided to the actual people who needed it, that I was not even allowed to be involved with, not told about any meetings, not even allowed a toe hold in the door?

The same Cancer Center where the person running the show wouldn't even tell me to my face that she didn't want to include me in any of the discussions about programming or planning or survivorship pilot programs, so she avoided me until I reminded her enough times that I was waiting for a response, and only then did she send someone else to tell me, "We already have enough people involved" and then avoided me the rest of the time I worked there and never said another word to me in the year that ensued, through the day I left?

Is THAT the Cancer Center of which you speak?

But instead I just said, "No. I'm going off on my own."

Small potatoes, those people are, in the big picture. I am glad to be leaving. I don't want to inhabit the same windowless, limited cardboard box that they feel safe and secure in.

Well I'm out, I'm done, and aside from a few celebrations over the next few days, I am ready to take my life back and move forward. I've been waiting long enough, serving my extended 30 day-plus sentence in the corporate jail.

I'm planning a detox run this week, not long enough, of course, because my body will only let me go so far. I'm also getting a massage. Yes, I am done.

'Nuff said.

Cheerleaders Only

I have a feeling that on Saturday at 7:30 pm I will feel like somebody shot me out of a cannon...

I am so ready to pursue my life again! It feels like the greatest gift ever, freedom!

But I have to comment on some things that are bugging me. I've allowed myself this time, until I regain my life, to blow off steam and express my anger and frustration as it surfaces. After all, aren't those human emotions? Don't human beings feel those things from time to time, especially when they've been SHIT UPON by other members of the species.

It is not healthy to hold feelings in. It is better to express them honestly. My chosen medium is by writing. I have expressed a few of my emotions out loud but somehow they came back at me via stab wounds in my back. And they were also subject to selective hearing.

I never was a cheerleader, never carried pom-poms. Couldn't do a straight cartwheel to save my life, either. I never was a girly girl either. I never fit the gender police's preferred image of a girl. Or a woman, either, when I grew up. I'm a person. Just like other people are. I believe that most persons are also human beings. At least that's what I assumed until I joined the working world.

I work my very last shift tomorrow, and it looks like I will work with fantastic people, coworkers I adore, patients I will miss. But I will not miss the cheerleaders club.

When I think about my workplace, with the exception of the majority of my coworkers, I imagine they are ready to get rid of me, too. No one in the chain of command above me said even so much as a goodbye this week. There are also a very small number of people (two to be exact) I've worked with in the past who have not bothered to answer my repeated attempts to contact them. People who claim to be caring individuals who work with many patients with serious illness, in both traditional and nontraditional health care roles. Won't even give me the time of day.

People are really afraid because I said what they think, what they wish they had the courage to say. But they are afraid. There is a pervasive atmosphere of fear.

If you disagree with ANYTHING, you have a negative attitude. Cheerleaders ONLY.

Really, I don't know why and probably never will know why the powers that be decided to shut me out of any discussion, planning or pilot programs for the very program for which I had promoted, volunteered my time, and fundraised for 5 years. Because they wouldn't even speak to me to my face. They sent a messenger to tell me they already had enough people. And this was over a year ago, before my attitude took a slide downhill into hell.

And then they avoided me for the remaining time, actual physical avoidance, despite my multiple attempts to let them know about my interest, not to mention my background, skills, and qualifications of which they were already aware from Day One.

I think it is because they only feel comfortable with a very small, select, hand-picked group of people who won't color outside the lines. Because it seems like for every project, the same people are involved. On Day One, I must have scared the shit out of some REALLY insecure person. AGAIN.

I can't help being who I am. But I shouldn't have to suppress it either. And there is a line, and if you cross that line with me, I'm not going to like it. And I'm going to say so.

Today I had lunch with a colleague who is a nurse practitioner. She brought a signed copy of Nursing Against The Odds with her. She had lunch with Suzanne Gordon, the author, at a recent conference. When she brought the book and asked me if I'd read it, I almost started to laugh.

Laughter is probably not the appropriate emotion. It would have been quite sarcastic and I suppressed it. I actually bought the book years ago, when I was a new nurse. I started reading it and it was so depressing that I had to stop reading it because I was new to the profession and it was painful to read. But after seven years of nursing I see that in the time since 2005 when the book was written, not much has changed.

I think it is very interesting what she wrote back then about Magnet, Gordon predicted that Magnet might not survive in an atmosphere of further cost cutting, and she is right. Magnet is weakening, to the point of obsolescence. No one is willing to pay for the things that Magnet requires. But then it seems like Magnet is also willing to look the other way.

Meanwhile in Arizona, Amanda is still fighting the Board of Nursing. Amanda is going through a living hell with those sick @#$%*! at the Arizona BON.

Spies, flies, and lies. Spying on people with social media, tattletales, people who listen in on conversations, people who twist reality so it fits their agenda. Then they try to shame her. Get real people. What business do they have being on the Board of Nursing, in their relentless pursuit of Amanda's license?

This is the reality of nursing folks. Nurses have no protections. If they are lucky enough to have unions, they might have minimal workplace protections, but beyond that, nurses kill one another off. The State Nursing Organizations (ANA disciples) favor management. The Board of Nursing is not there to protect nurses, it claims to be about protecting the public. Workplaces are run by companies with only the bottom line in mind. Nurses are revered only by people who have no idea what kind of slave-like conditions they are subjected to.

Nurses turn against each other by the pressure, lack of control, and hard labor they endure. Bound by their licenses, they try desperately to uphold their commitment to the patients they serve, when the organizations they work for do everything to work against them.

Not to turn the conversation back to me, because Amanda's story stands out in all it's horrifying detail. But her story reminds me, sickly, of the bullshit I experienced when a certain person tried to intimidate me over something I wrote. People with God complexes try to blow smoke and you just want to walk out of the room, because my reaction was, can we have an adult conversation here? If you're so concerned about propriety and behavior standards, then why don't you live up to them yourself?

And then we have this...

This is what mainstream nursing has become. And it is a sad fact that it will go on and continue to get worse until enough nurses are willing to put a stop to it.

I refuse to be a cheerleader. I will not shill for ANYBODY's substandard treatment of human beings in what is supposed to be a caring profession.

Which is why, once I get out of this phase of nursing, I intend to do something meaningful to support nurses who are going through similar hell, in order to help them regain their well-being in a safe atmosphere, where they can heal and move forward with their lives.

But first, I have to heal myself. Another 24 hours or so and I will truly begin...