Watch this powerful video if you need inspiration to recycle

                  

 I cannot imagine some of these images in my backyard, and yet they are.  Where will all of our waste go?  Sometimes I need some extra inspiration to recycle.  I'm improving since viewing this video.  Hopefully, if I start to slack, I'll view it again.  There is beautiful land all over this country and in every corner of our earth.  I was reminded just how awesome it is when visiting Sedona.  I had a life changing experience while visiting the Chapel of the Holy Cross.  The red rocks are truly breath-taking and they stopped me in my tracks at every bend of road, but when I looked up to the sky, through the Chapel's window, I was overwhelmed.  I sensed God's presence.  It was very frightening and wonderful at the same time.  I began crying uncontrollably and was humbled beyond belief.  When I see places trashed, I feel badly about the paradise that was created for us.  I wonder what our ancestors would think.  I wrote this poem after my experience.

Chapel of the Holy Cross

They removed 25,000 tons of rock

for me to believe…

a small price

to open a heart,
a soul.
I scaled the
spiral medium
and looked out at the sky.


There was Tom,

Uncle Dick,
Grandmom,                                                                                           

Mom,
pouring over the sides
of clouds,                                                                                                     
down cheeks,
into the shafts of
my bones.


Urgency led
my tremulous hands,
lighting wick
after wick,
as the boy
tossed burnt
pleas into
a box.


I knelt on the solid base
of my doubt,
trying to get a glimpse
of the cross,
but my eyes were
drawn to the
loyal blue heavens.


They removed 25,000 tons
of rock for me to believe…
a small price
to open a heart,
a soul.


Click on this link for facts about plastic bags.  Most supermarkets sell very inexpensive reusable bags now.  I purchased six.  Now I have to work on remembering to bring them into the store with me.  One step at a time.

This beauty stops me in my tracks when walking through my gardens.  Let's appreciate our paradise!

Recycle something today!



Battery Caged Hens = Salmonella---Protect Yourself and Your Family!!!!!!!!!!

                   This is so sad!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Factory farms that use battery cages should be banned!  The European Union has already banned them! These cages allow a living space of 8.5 x 11 inches for the hens entire life.  Its so stressful for them that they peck and kill one another.  The factory's answer to that is to debeak them-yes cut off one-third of their beaks. Because of the stressful lifestyle and close quarters they release stress hormones, which stimulates the growth rate of Salmonella, and lowers immune function.  The factory's answer: feed millions of pounds of antibiotics to them.  The primary source of Salmonella infection is eggs!!  Purchase your eggs from cage-free, organic or free-range sources!!!!!!!!!  Check out this site from the Humane Society.  Cage-Free vs. Battery-Cage Eggs : The Humane Society of the United States.  Cage-Free doesn't mean a great, totally stress-free life for the hen, but far better, according the Humane Society.  Free range seems to be the best choice to provide environments that are harmonious, nutritive, and honor the most basic needs of the animals.  If you google battery cage egg images, it will make you sick..........and aware ( if the above picture wasn't enough to sadden you).

Check out Nature's Yoke for cage-free sources.  Read your egg cartons!


Check out Mother Earth News regarding free range eggs and their increased nutritional value!

This is a favorite poem written by William Carlos Williams.  If he only knew.

The Red Wheelbarrow


so much depends
upon


a red wheel
barrow


glazed with rain
water


beside the white
chickens.


If the animal cruelty doesn't stop you from buying eggs from factory farms who use battery caged hens.......think of the health risks to you and your family.

Your thoughts?


Ross, S., Food for Thought, Holistic Nurs Pract 2006;24(3);169-5
Williams, W., Selected Poems, p 30.

Sources of Inspiration

There are endless sources of inspiration out there and we don't have to look far and wide to find them.  The above picture is one of Isaiah Zagar's mosaics and living dream. Zagar took dilapidated buildings on South Street in Philadelphia and made them into Philadelphia's Magic Gardens.  What struck me about this artist was this:  you can see and feel the true essence of who this man is, past, present and future when you stand in his sculpture garden, or tour the city to see 40 years of his many creations blossom in the most unexpected spaces.  Although I don't want my walls filled with mosaics (well maybe just one), I truly admire Zagar's courage to create his surroundings and life's work with a genuine heart.  Many of his works incorporate silouettes of his wife Julia, who is obviously a part of his being. And of course, he was influenced by many other artists/people along the way.

This adventure left me wondering if I am living my life according to the essence of who I am..........what is the essence of who I am.........who inspires me and who is a part of my being?.............

 Then I came across this quote in Julia Camerons book The Artist's Way -A Spiritual Path to Higher Creativity 

                         

                               "You are lost the instant you know what the result will be."  Juan Gris.

So having the "answers" to those questions, I gather is pointless.  The essence of who we are is about the journey we chose:   who we allow to influence our journey and what we make of our journey.  Although I am influenced by negative experiences, I cherish those who have touched my heart in large and small ways and poetry allows me to frame this.  I'm guessing Zagar feels a similar satisfaction when viewing his mosaics.  I am lucky to have my mom, who I cherish for teaching me the meaning of love with an inexhaustible list (volumes) of loving deeds, actions and lifestyle.  And I cherish her mom for the quiet love she taught throughout her life.  I wrote this poem in memory of my grandmom's enduring love for my grandpop, even long after he was gone.

Goose Girl

This spoon chases lops of carrots,
potatoes, celery, and beef,
round the copper bottom pot,
and steam billows towards a
single, hollow stratum between
these apartment walls.


Green cold bottles of 7up
are still to the left in the icebox,
salt and pepper
to the right of the stove.


Today I changed the placemats
for fall,
two tan woven squares,
two brown wooden rings surrounding
two fabric napkins,
laden with crimson berries
and the rich ginger tones
of autumn’s grace.


In the evening,
I pop open the tin for a raspberry candy,
and savor and sway
on the wooden rails of my rocker,
which always return my pushback.

Fridays I go on to pin up my hair
and dust the curio.
Goose Girl looks down on her pleading darlings
with compassion.
Singlehandedly
she remains undaunted,
year after year,
clutching her secret bouquet behind
her back.

I am so fortunate to have such monumental influences in my life, but I also try to appreciate someone or something every day, even tiny doses of inspiration.  Cameron's book encourages you to recognize and nuture your creative self, which is present in all of us.  She advises to journal each morning and seek out your creativity by taking yourself on "artist dates".  For me, setting a little time aside each day reflecting, journaling, meditating or writing poetry makes the world stop rushing by so quickly.  I am greatful for others who teach and nuture creativity.

This week I am treading into new "creative territory".  I visited a local art store and brought myself some colored pencils and sketch pads and a "how to draw with colored pencils" book.  I could never really draw, but Cameron advises us to challenge our inner critic... and so I'm trying not to say "never".  Try your hand at something new and creative.  I hope you share your adventure here.

Thanks Denise for sharing the Magic Garden site and thanks Mare for sharing the Artist's Way with me.

  

The Poetry of Rain

Today I felt like I could conquer the world during Mat Pilates,

building core strength and reaching with strong open arms towards the ceiling sky.  Then I went out to my car and saw this view of the real sky from my car window:  threatening, looming over LA Fitness......over my errands......over my daughters birthday barbeque, over my optimistic conquering spirit.  Then the words of Pema Chödrön popped into my head, and I saw the rain as my teacher.

I remember listening to her CD "Getting Unstuck" and feeling relieved to learn that the "negative" things in life make me balanced and without them I would be very arrogant.   Her teachings include having a loving kindness towards ourselves, and therefore are very comforting to me.  Here are a few of Chödrön's quotes:

"To be fully alive, fully human, and completely awake is to be continually thrown out of the nest."
— Pema Chödrön

"Life is glorious, but life is also wretched. It is both. Appreciating the gloriousness inspires us, encourages us, cheers us up, gives us a bigger perspective, energizes us. We feel connected. But if that's all that's happening, we get arrogant and start to look down on others, and there is a sense of making ourselves a big deal and being really serious about it, wanting it to be like that forever. The gloriousness becomes tinged by craving and addiction. On the other hand, wretchedness--life's painful aspect--softens us up considerably. Knowing pain is a very important ingredient of being there for another person. When you are feeling a lot of grief, you can look right into somebody's eyes because you feel you haven't got anything to lose--you're just there. The wretchedness humbles us and softens us, but if we were only wretched, we would all just go down the tubes. We'd be so depressed, discouraged, and hopeless that we wouldn't have enough energy to eat an apple. Gloriousness and wretchedness need each other. One inspires us, the other softens us. They go together."
— Pema Chödrön

"Most of us do not take these situations as teachings. We automatically hate them. We run like crazy. We use all kinds of ways to escape -- all addictions stem from this moment when we meet our edge and we just can't stand it. We feel we have to soften it, pad it with something, and we become addicted to whatever it is that seems to ease the pain."  (my addiction: food)
— Pema Chödrön

"When you open yourself to the continually changing, impermanent, dynamic nature of your own being and of reality, you increase your capacity to love and care about other people and your capacity to not be afraid. You're able to keep your eyes open, your heart open, and your mind open. And you notice when you get caught up in prejudice, bias, and aggression. You develop an enthusiasm for no longer watering those negative seeds, from now until the day you die. And, you begin to think of your life as offering endless opportunities to start to do things differently."
— Pema Chödrön

and one more...........

"As long as our orientation is toward perfection or success, we will never learn about unconditional friendship with ourselves, nor will we find compassion. "

— Pema Chödrön

I took a picture of these beautiful "perfect" flowers on a gloomy evening.  They were behind two of my dead hanging plants that I neglected to water in a heat wave.  I paused in my garden with loving kindness towards myself.  I felt bad about the plants but I did not water any negative seeds.  I did appreciate and delight more in these beautiful brown-eyed susans.

I thought about this again over the weekend after attending two parties with loving family and friends.  It is wonderful to spend time with people who support and care about us.  But life isn't always like this and thats okay.  I wrote this poem Audrey's Gift, and although it reflects a painful time in my life, it has helped to make me the person I am today.  Click on the link, then the "table of contents outline", then the the "Art of Nursing,"  then the PDF file under "Audrey's Gift."
http://journals.lww.com/ajnonline/toc/2009/08000#-237883829

Next time you are going through a difficult time, make sure you treat yourself with loving kindness and know that there are lessons that may help open up your heart if you are willing to stop and listen.

Why Don't We Talk About Death?

Today on my way to yoga class I stopped at a 4-way stop sign where each car stopped a second apart, making who goes first a very smooth process. Sometimes life is this way but many times we all stop at the same time, wave at the same time, proceed at the same time, and end up with a jerky process.  Many of us approach the subject of death with such a process--a quiet agitation or a subtle uneasiness, especially when it is not imminent. We also approach this process as unnatural, even eerie, despite our unquestionable fate. I am not surprised that recent discussions regarding “end of life decisions” in the current political climate has stirred up a host of awkward emotions. How many of us stop at the subject of death and are unsure of how to proceed or take a quick detour in the opposite direction?  I, for one, am not sure or satisfied with my feelings about death.  My thought processes are definitely jerky.  But why?

While practicing nursing on a coronary care unit, I come across living wills in charts of my patients who are intubated, on tube feedings, and on multiple drips, have end-stage chronic disease or are very elderly (I had a 98 year old with dementia yesterday who asked me: “What if I say no?” to a blood transfusion). Sometimes a discomfort pervades me as well as an uncertainty as to whether or not I am honoring what the patient wants. Am I getting them through a critical “hump” in their illness, am I prolonging the inevitable? Is it my place to decide? Is it the government’s place to decide?  The doctor's?

Lets discuss a more tangible subject:   Do you understand living wills and power of attorneys?
To ease the uneasiness, I found this humorous video about Living Wills on the net.  I guarantee it will make you laugh...or at least smile.  Take a look:



Then I surfed the net for "Power of Attorney."  I came across this site http://www.legacywriter.com/ and purchased myself a form for Power of Attorney for $14.95.  It took only a few minutes to fill out and print.  Should I become vegetative......my hubby will now know my wishes.

So who determines if I am vegetative or terminally ill?  A doctor makes that choice, and I would  hope that it would be a doctor who is compassionate and experienced.  I have seen doctors from the same group have extensive experience in the disease process, but one has compassion and the other? none.  Those with compassion go beyond the knowledge of disease processes and care about the whole person.  They become an advocate for the person.  This can be a very complex subject for people and their loved ones and some may need the help of such an advocate.  Check out this site from a compassionate cardio-thoracic surgeon who is now practicing as an end of life advocate.  http://www.karlahlswede.com/.  I sincerely hope the government would not take over these types of decisions.  We need as much information as we can get on our journey at life's end and real compassionate "people" to help us wade through it.  I wrote this poem after resusitating a woman in her 90s.  Lets talk about it now.  Its only natural.


The Predicament of Advancement

Shuffling feet hurry
on the roller coaster
of jolts
and thrusting
hands.
This mechanical,
electrical,
tuned up
machine
is working again.
Sighs are heard
after hands are tied,
but I ponder this phrase,
pushing grey, brittle hair
from her eyes:

Above All, Do No Harm

A Sacred Space

Sacred Space

          

A sacred space can be in a corner of a room, a whole room if you have the space, a chair on the porch, or a bench in the garden....wherever it is....everyone should create or find a quiet space to sit and just breathe.  Just breathing is not easy for many of us because our minds are always racing ahead.  I attended a meditation seminar at Himalayan Institute and found myself experiencing the opposite of relaxation during a seated pose while meditating.  I actually felt the stress response-my heart was racing, I was sweating-- a physiological response elicited by fear or anxiety which activated my "fight or flight response."  Yes, that was me, learning how to relax.    The instructor assured me it was because I had caffeine after several days of abstaining.  But I reflected on what was going through my mind at the time and made my own conclusion.  Meditation is optimal if you are sitting comfortably with a straight spine, breathing by expanding the belly on inhalation, and viewing thoughts as present, but letting them go.  I recall my ego taking over, saying "you're exhaling and contracting.....you're not straight enough.... you cannot let that thought go...there it comes back again....etc., etc." This went on until I had to open my eyes and quietly leave the room.  This it what we often do to ourselves in many situations in life-constantly criticize ourselves and tell ourselves we're not good enough-we're not doing it right.  What I have learned, and am still learning, is to be kind to myself, and relax because no one is perfect.  Just breathing and appreciating the present moment-your sacred space, a starry night, a blue sky is good enough.  Actually, its perfect.  Sometimes I find my sacred space on my yoga mat or in the shower.  Just breathe and appreciate small moments.  A straight spine, abdominal breathing, and letting thoughts go.......icing on the cake.  I wrote this poem about a special time I love-my daily shower.    


  Each Day a Shower

Frosted doors slide side by side
to expose the threshold of daily
sanctuary. Here, I honor all that
I’m not, roles melting towards truth.


From the outside, I am the muse of
van Gogh. Inside, I stand on therapy’s
couch, a canvas unbound. Tepid drizzle
dilates my crown, reigning over idle chatter.
The cold surface of mirror fades in the fog.


My breath is fluent in the haze
of steam and I drink in shades of violet.
Thoughts parade across earthenware tiles,
and dissolve into small golden squares.


I close my eyes and I am the color
of rain. Frosted doors slide side by side
to expose the threshold of daily
sanctuary. Here, I question all that I am,
as naked as the day I was born.

Viewing the Hospital from a Different Perspective

Today I viewed the hospital from a different perspective.......as a patient.  I nearly fainted at home and then vomited and had my husband (my love and deer in headlights) drive me to the ER.  I arrived at the hospital doors frightened, even though I was completely familiar with every instrument, medical jargon and procedure.  I heard the familiar words "big stick", and "ready-I'll pull this tape off quick" and "we are waiting for your results," all coming from Nurse Lindsey--not me.  It seemed a good lesson to know the sensation that comes along with the words-yes it is a big stick, yes the tape being pulled stings, and yes it seemed an eternity lying on the stretcher waiting for results. 

The whole experience made me keenly aware of how kind words and warm blankets can make all the difference in the world.   I felt cared for and about even though Lindsey was busy, because she maintained good eye contact, did not back out of the room while I was speaking, and took the time to frequently ask about my comfort.  My call bell was answered promptly and with a smile.  In fact it was a blessing to view nursing from this perspective and although Lindsey will probably never see this blog, I send thanks to her and all nurses. 

This poem is from the perspective of a stroke patient, Patricia Celley Groth, from her book Wild Apples, Stories From the Motherline.  I was honored when her husband presented me with a complementary copy.

Baby Steps

In the space between one night and another

I am thrust back into my childhood,

my babyhood, even.  I was surprised

this could happen to me; not scared,

surprised--and angry.

At first I could not walk or talk.

Waking up in the hospital like that,

I was embarrassed I was there.

I pretended every thing was just fine,

and I was holding court

from my high bed

just as my mother used to,

nodding my head a little

to say it was all right.

At first I could not swallow

so the food was ground up for me.

I didn't like it, and not being able

to reach for the spoon

with my hand this way,

I spilled most of it on my clothes.

I had to wear a bib

just like my baby granddaughter.

She, the baby, takes great pleasure in walking

with her one hand held tightly in her mother's.

I finally walk too, my hand

grasped around the head of my cane,

or my husband carefully steering

my elbow to places

I would no longer dare to go.

The time is all full of first days:

when I go to the bathroom I forget

the tubes fastened to my arm

and they are firmly shut in the door.

The nurse gasps to see what I have done.

When she straightens me all out

I say, Thank you, like a good girl should

and these are my first words.

I can only imagine the therapeutic value that Pat found in writing her poetry.  I met her for only one day, but I will remember her energy and spirit forever.  I am truly moved by her perspective. 

Motivation and the Magic Bullet

A nurse is faced with not only teaching his/her patients about healthy lifestyles, but is left with the monumental task of motivating people to change.  Sometimes I think, if only I had a motivational pill....I'd first take it myself........and then give it to my patients....ahh, yes...the magic bullet.

                                                                            

Unfortunately, most people think the same way-they want the quick fix, but even when left with medicinal treatment options, I find some people are still not motivated.  I recently had a patient who admitted she has bad behavior when her blood sugar is high and she proceeded to use profanity and cursed at me, called me a liar, and told me she wasn't going to do anything I said.  She began crying and I asked her what was wrong and she said that the kitchen would only send her diet syrup.  Her behavior was outrageous- she started tearing everything off and rocking back and forth on the bed, pulling her hair and crying.  Her blood sugar was over 300.  When I asked her if she checked her blood sugar at home, she said no.  When I asked her if she needed a blood sugar machine, she said she has one but just doesn't use it.  I'm sure there were many underlying issues in this situation, but there was at least one obvious solution.

I was left wondering why anyone would know a solution to a painful situation and still not be motivated to change.  Then I looked in the mirror.  I know that being overweight is unhealthy and it causes strain on my joints and a multitude of other health issues.  I have plantar facitis which is aggravated by being overweight, if not the cause.  This condition causes severe pain in my foot when I wake up and take my first steps of the day...outrageous pain and a wake-up call!....  yet how motivated am I to change?

I saw my daughters college Psych 101 text sitting on the table and decided to refresh on Motivation 101. 

The old self-fulfilling prophecy.  Definition:  An expectation that is fulfilled because of the tendancy of the person holding it to act in ways that bring it about.

Ok, so I do expect that I will probably never reach the goal weight that is acceptable for a 5 ft 4.5 in. female.  How do I change that expectation?  Well, that depends on my

self-efficacy.  Definition:  A person's belief that he or she is capable of producing desired results, such as mastering new skills and reaching goals. 

Am I able to handle challenges-what is my level of confidence?  Well, I have lost weight before, but the nagging devil on the other shoulder says, "yeah but you gained most of it back."  So I need help on my self-efficacy.  Ok how do I do that?

By having successful role models who teach you that your ambitions are possible and from having people around to give you constructive feedback and encouragement. 

So why do we in the health care system tell people to do this and that and send them on their way without a clue as to what their expectations are, their beliefs are, or their self confidence to achieve is?  Who gives them constructive feedback and encouragement?  The Psych book really caught my eye when I read that self-efficacy has an effect on just about every aspect of  people's lives and went on to list the aspects and included:

                             even their chances of recovery from a heart attack.

We do have cardiac-rehab after a person has a heart attack, which is definitely a step in the right direction.  But if there is one thing that I feel our system needs it would be encouragement and continued support after discharge.  I give patients scripts for new medications, but can sense that they are not confident at times because they haven't even accepted what has happened to them yet, let alone what the solutions are and how the medications will help them.  I wrote this poem in an effort to share my frustration of our "system" and how we treat patients-mostly with pills (which by the way is what most people want).  Please do not misinterpret my intentions-I think medications are an important part of medicine and therapies towards health, and I do not wish to make light of any of these serious conditions, but I do believe that we have to start introducing alternative and complementary therapies more often in conjunction with traditional therapies (meds). 


Pill Therapy

What record are you playing in your head?
Has life left you feeling tired, tired, tired?
Don’t worry… just take a pill instead.

These pounds you have to shed, shed, shed?
Take this med- you’ll be kill-appetite inspired.
What record are you playing in your head?

Bills, bills, bills have you in the red, red, red,
and your last two jobs? Fired and fired.
Don’t worry… just take a pill instead.

Can’t doze-si- doze when you climb into bed?
A capsule each night will get you unwired.
What record are you playing in your head?

Spider and speech fill your head with dread.
Mind’s a flash, flash, flash, of memory transired.
Don’t worry… just take a pill instead.

If you would’ve jumped, you’d be dead, dead, dead.
This tablet, twice a day, is all that’s required.
What record are you playing in your head?
Don’t worry… just take a pill instead.

So, what IS the solution?  My take:  Avoid isolation and reach out into the vast sea of humanity BUT on the other hand I think if you hang with monkeys then your gonna eat bananas.  So off to the gym I go where people are encouraging and working towards being fit.  Weight Watchers?  Why not?  I'll keep you posted!  Please share any of your success stories or solutions you found to motivate yourself.

Invitation to Psychology, Fourth Edition, Carole Wade and Carol Tavris

Remembering Debbie

I worked with "Nurse Debbie" for several years at a facility for developmentally and emotionally challenged clients and then again in the hospital setting but on separate shifts and floors. Debbie had just started working with me for a couple of days and took me by surprise when she grabbed both of my hands and began twirling me in the hallway and singing Ring-a-Round-The-Rosie. I knew from that day forward, I would never have an ordinary predictable workday if Debbie was on.

We became friends and I invited her for a walk in Tyler Park in Bucks County one afternoon and she seemed to be in awe of how clean and peaceful it was, something that I admit I took for granted.

Soon after that our work schedules and lives caused our paths to diverge.

I read the obituaries daily (a nurse thing) and remember clearly the lump in my throat when I opened the page to see that Debbie had died suddenly. She was 51 years old. In lieu of flowers, friends and family were asked to donate to Today, Inc., a rehab facility for drug and alcohol addiction. I recall an increase in absenteeism, but I never predicted this. I miss Debbie and think of her often. I planted a willow tree in her memory. Although it is still young, it is magnificent and I am not able to walk by it without being in awe of its "presence." I wrote this poem two years later.

Backyard Delusions

I planted this willow tree
after May 23rd,
seeking shelter
from a frozen ache.
Its roots
weave and huddle,                                                             
weathering
red-eyed storms.
Each spring blooms
a presence,                                                   
every day,
I recall.

We walked carefully
across slender twigs
and idle banter,
a surface of concentric rings.                                            
You insisted I not be bothered:
I had my own battles,
my own walks in the park.

Now I survey this court yard alone,
seeing long flexible legs
whirling down on the lawn,
tearing up the terrain,
making my chin drop,                                                         
and blink to                                                                        
find you
gracefully
sitting there,
breathtaking and
beautiful,
so quiet,
and so quiet.

Certificate in Complementary and Integrative Therapies

Drexel On-Line: Certificate in Complementary and Integrative Therapies
This will be my next new adventure. Will be studying herbs, aroma therapy, holistic living, and natural remedies for womens health issues in the fall. I am hoping that medicine meets the reality of how much our mind and spirit effect the body. It is hard to ignore the gravity of this when you spend 12 hours a day at a patient's bedside. We must branch out to include a more holistic, natural treatment of our patients. They deserve it.

What Do You Do to Relieve Stress?

I tend to get my camera ready when I approach bridges because sometimes there is a spectacular view. I saw this sign several times approaching the Tappanzee Bridge on the way home from my vacation. I immediately felt guilty about having such a wonderful and relaxing week and wondered what it would be like to have so much stress that you felt compelled to jump off a bridge.

Sometimes I feel inept with helping patients whose stress has gone beyond what their body can handle. I recently had an alcoholic patient who was 49, jaundiced, bloated, ventilated and sedated. So young, so sad. She's what we call a frequent flyer (multiple admissions to the hospital due to chronic illness that is not well controlled). I will be surprised if she celebrates her 50th birthday. My other patient was admitted with palpitations and was put on a medication to prevent withdraw from alcohol because he drinks daily. There was some speculation that his racing heart was due to "holiday heart" (sometimes increased alcohol use can trigger rapid atrial fibrillation, which is an irregular fast heart rate).

I got to thinking how our habits are so entrenched that we don't care if we are killing ourselves as long as we get quick temporary relief from our stress. Alcoholics in particular, have it tough because their method of stress relief is more damaging to the body than any other. We all have habits that are automatic when we encounter stress, many that are harmful to the body, mind, and/or soul. I think we all could use help when trying to change habits. I found a free web-site called goalforit.com. It helps you to set goals and make positive changes. I struggle with simple things like drinking enough water and eating enough fruit (and grabbing junk food and coffee). I have a daily reminder set to my email and cell phone. I have been successful in uping my fruit intake and tackled being consistent with my daily vitamin. I have yet to incorporate a daily stress relief plan that includes consistent exercise, yoga, walking, biking or meditation. If you struggle with similar goals, sign up for goalforit.com and become friends with me there. We'll cheer eachother on!

Like the 12 step programs of AA or NA or GA or OA, etc., I think we need each other to help us not only achieve goals, but deal with everyday stress. If you are struggling with addiction, check out AA (or google whatever your addiction is) and find a meeting near you. There are even on-line meetings to get you started. Reach out and help yourself. Life is precious!

Mental Health Checklist: #1 Look at the Beauty in Front of You

This past week I spent some quality time with my hubby in Wellfleet, MA. I relish not only our time together, but the beauty of our great country as well. When we conversed with other couples who stayed at the same B&B, they all commented on where we live (Bucks County, PA) and how beautiful it is. Sometimes we forget to appreciate the beauty that is right in front of us. Looking up at the sky, I asked my husband, "Are the clouds always this beautiful ?" I had my answer when I took the time to look up at the sky today.

Inspirational Nurse Writers

Between the Heartbeats is one of my favorite poetry books written and edited by nurses. Click here to see Judy Schaefer's website and here to see Cortney Davis's website. Both nurse/writers give a strong voice to nursing :)

A Healing Connection

When we suffer, it is easy and natural to self-focus, but next time you have an ache, breathe with that ache and take a few extra breaths for those across our earth who are suffering with the same ache. Its amazing. Check it out for yourself. I wrote this poem which reminds me that all is not black or white, all is not us or them. Hope you enjoy it.


Communal Refuse

I am Staten Island’s
Fresh Kills Landfill.
My neighbor is
Ground Zero.
I open up my arms
to universal chaos.

I allow missing people
to rest on the
sides of milk cartons,
al-Qaeda to cinder
with infidels.
I shoulder the ashes of
firefighters,
children,
prayer rugs,
pews.

Steely girders
shine and splinter
across my days.
At night I am eerily
tranquil.

On hot afternoons I reek of death.
God, Allah and Yahweh hold
their breath; then they
permit the clouds to let loose.

Parched blood dissolves
on weakened trusses,
while driving rain fills my bowels.
8:46 disintegrates
through my sieve hands,
its residue is frozen cement.

You ask if I harbor a fingernail,
or a sliver of a
plastic jug,
but you forget,
I don’t query my
citizens.
I only offer them earth
and remain silent.

Memorial Day Salute

I recently had a patient who passed away after suffering with metastatic lung cancer for several years. As a small boy he was exposed to agent orange, which is believed to be the cause of his cancer. On this Memorial Day, I salute you Mr. N. along with all of the other brave men and women who gave us the freedom we enjoy today. Your loving wife and mother have taught me the real meaning of honor.

Tell Your Story

Nurses are privy to the intimate lives of human beings and while we teach our patients, we can't help but learn from them also, being human ourselves. Nurses who share their stories open themselves up to self-discovery, yet another blessing of nursing.

Rehab Nursing
by Judy Schaefer

This is where my heart is, over here
in the niches and the small worry knots
in the crack and crevice of curbstone
of slanted path and walkway
A step that begins with a wiggle
of a toe, recall of a cindered road
chips and scattered stone
See how the tiny mosses grow
so slow
Observance through the night
is an unrewarding chore
See how the tiny mosses grow
springs unseen
roots tenacious
quiet tender shoots
bandaged still
until one bright sunsplashed moment
on the rock
above the salty pulsing surf
This is made of climate, rain and sun
storm and lightning
and washed out bridges
and new canals
This is where I am, over here
in the cinder path with you

This was taken from a book called Between the Heartbeats
Poetry and Prose by Nurses
Edited by Cortney Davis, NP and Judy Schaefer, RN

Begin to journal your experiences in nursing and see where it takes you............

Lets Celebrate Nursing

Sometimes I am so challenged by the demands in my profession that I question my career choice. Then I find myself crying and hugging the wife of my dying patient and in this special moment, my whole world is shifted a bit. I would like to "stop and savor the blessings" of nursing, because it is a large part of my life and I believe nurses are special people. I hope you enjoy this blog and help me celebrate nursing. Happy Belated Nurses Day!