We are only as sick as our secrets and our secrets keep us sick. Working conditions in healthcare are less than optimal. I think we need to move beyond the grief and resentment and figure out some actual solutions. Without reimbursement, there will be less healthcare, technology, and intervention. Additionally we each are responsible for our attitudes and actions.
Perhaps it is time to capture the attention of the general public with a massive, advertising campaign teaching them how to give healthcare glowing satisfaction scores. We need a Mary Poppins affect of a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine— the tough stuff, pain, impairment, economic losses of illness separate from the care to address it. Maybe subliminal messaging embedded in TV’s, EMRs, waiting and family areas, hallways and cafeterias about the wonderful world of healthcare similar to a Disney ride would make everyone happier. Continue reading
My writing life is evolving, pulsating, ebbing, and waning. Scratching the surface, scattering seed like chickens in a pen. Millet, cracked corn, husks and occasional bits of meat poured upon the page.
With the discipline of assignments and the cracked sash of a window of opportunity causes me to scribble with increased frequency and with fewer inhibitions. Words, usually in fragments, assault the page. They are a rash of thoughts, recollections, free of the architecture, more concerned with sensation and painting with language.
Exploration, surprise and confidence building is this practice. Sometimes it takes on a life of its own anything from a gentle to a persistent nagging to tell a story. I write to seek meaning, to explain. Explain away. Explain why. Explain or justify a reason for the story to be told.
Perhaps it’s another form of bulimia, purging the overindulgence and collection of thought, emotions that must be spewed out in relief. No, that’s not it. It was being heard, understood that made the process important. Witnessing the reflex, the response, reaction to the memory, the picture imprinted in some other’s brain that fueled this action.
The writing process has eradicated some of the outer layers of protection. It’s become a forum to account for my years on this earth. It may be a place of purpose – right words – right times. Right or wrong the words however are true to the times.
My writing is a flirtation, a seduction that courts fantasies, memories and myths of old tales. It is a process of word spew, rambling thought, emotional fetid air, sour milk, or a belch. Sometimes writing is a sudden gasp and cramp of memory. Reading the words on the page diminish the importance of a many stories in my psyche. It’s a mental de-clutter and sometimes resolution.
When I ask myself, what would I do if I were brave?
I would write and write again, edit, seek feedback and edit 10x. I would seek guidance to go deep and write long. To hone, carve, craft and deliver a message worth sharing.
My Last Step Backwards is a great title and good advice in a world encouraging constant self improvement. The beautiful woman on the cover is, quite literally, a beauty queen. Author Tasha Schuh is well educated, young, glowing, is full of possibility and promise with a radiant smile. Like many a gift, this is the pretty packaging. Inside reveals devastation and triumph.
Are you are drawn to life-altering drama, perils that overwhelm the imagination and surprise endings? My Last Step Backwards reveals much about modern day family life in a small Midwestern community, aspirations of youth and emerging womanhood. But the real story is of grit, determination, love and a very deep faith. It broke my parent heart. It made me feel admiration for family, friends and healthcare providers. It shattered some of my own beliefs and experiences as a nurse.
I ached for the periods of delirium, depression and utter fatigue. I was humbled again and again. I learned that I have much more to learn about faith, focus, grace and gratitude. What most people see when they meet Tasha is her losses. Tasha Schuh is a C5 quadriplegic due to a fall through a trap door preparing for a high school production.
The fact she alive is a miracle. Amazingly she describes ‘being saved by a disaster.’ Tasha is not just alive, she is vibrant, on-the- go, and educated. She is a professional inspirational speaker who shares her journey and its lessons. She drives. She inspires. She loves, laughs and worships. Tasha is a very public personality and has written this book.
Tasha Schuh makes the world a better place and anything is possible. Read her book. Hire her to speak. Get inspired. Become her student for she is wise and wonderful.
TashaSchuh.com tasha@TashaSchuh.com Facebook/TashaSchuh99
I’ve tried to reel myself in on the best of what I know that would be helpful to nurses today. I struggle with this because of my contorted view of nursing. I am grateful and proud to have been trained and to have enjoyed a paid career as a nurse,in my case a registered nurse. I am keenly aware of a clear hierarchy within and outside of the nursing profession. Continue reading
I want my words to make you weep
To gasp, recoil and laugh
I want to surprise
To shock and sometimes blur your consciousness
Let my ink glide and salve
the wound that needs licking
Let me expose and eviscerate offenses
and tenderly repair the hurt
I will always hold my parents and parochial school teachers in high regard for teaching all who dwelt within the importance of manners. Please and thank you were words learned just shortly after Dada and Momma. The please was more understood and sincere in it’s wanting of something.
As a kid, thank you lost its wonder except maybe at Christmas or birthdays or the OK for an overnight at a friend’s house. Thank you was simply more reflexive to complete the circuit of communication. Continue reading