Wishes, Dreams and Hopes for My Book: Stories from the Tenth-Floor Clinic

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I imagine Oprah Winfrey being told by one of her many assistants about a book she should read that is set in Chicago, that focuses on a female protagonist and deals with the disenfranchised on the West Side. Oprah, immediately after reading my book, writes a glowing review in O, the Oprah magazine. Great Summer Read!

My other fantasy is that an older woman who lives in Los Angeles, reads my book, which has been recommended to her by her nurse daughter or nurse son. She loves it so much that she passes it on to her best friend. Her best friend also loves it, and just so happens to be married to a well-connected TV producer, and soon my book is slated to premier as a new Netflix series.

And then reality sets in as I read the following quote.

“I did not get there by wishing for it, or dreaming about it, or hoping for it. I got there by working for it.” –Estée Lauder

Bummer.

 

 

I HAD A DREAM

Revisiting the dreams.

Nursing Stories

Mercury Sphygmomanometer

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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