Revisiting the dreams.
In preparation for moving I discover the darndest things as I unpack dusty boxes stored in the attic untouched for years. This time it’s a mercury sphygmomanometer, packed in its original carton along with a “limited warranty” card that should have been filled out within ten days of purchase. Looks like I didn’t even open the box but put the blood pressure machine away for the day I would open my independent practice.
That would have been in the early 80s after I became a gerontological NP
and
after I worked in Chicago with inner city, underserved elderly
and
after I became frustrated with the lack of resources and left to become an administrator of an HMO
and
after I knew I didn’t want to be in administration
and
after going back to work as a nurse practitioner once again
and
after moving to three different states
and
after finally…
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