Thursday, August 22, 2002

My new blog, Oncoblog, will be about cancer, nursing, and health education. I'll keep this blog to shoot the shit about my life, but I'm hoping to reach people with Oncoblog with pertinant and current health information. I've moved most of the health and nursing links there. Also, I've included on both sides my Yahoo profile, which has my email address. Please, don't email me forwards or ads, unless they are specific to nursing, health education or chronic illness. No HOT BABES NOW! emails, or else I'll report you to your URL for harrassment. Thanks!

The Better Half and I AGAIN went a couple of rounds about WYD. We don't see eye to eye. We have a hard time understand the other's viewpoint. But something came out last night that I never realized before. He asked me, frustrated, "What would you have done to make it a perfect WYD?" I'll tell you the same thing I type here:
a) During Days in The Diocese, I would have changed very little, except I would have requested and participated in a parish nursing program for most of the days there, and spend the days visiting the sick and helping with their spiritual needs.
b) In Toronto I would have either worked as part of the first aid station, or worked as a volunteer at St. Michael's Hospital. I realize I probably wouldn't have actually taken patients, but would try to interact with them as much as possible by filling water pitchers, playing games and cards, or just offering an ear. I felt I didn't do enough to serve God at WYD. I am a person who needs to do service work. Nursing is as a part of me as my highlighted blonde hair and my hazel eyes. Without it, I'd be lost, meaningless, useless. I respect people who not only talk about service work and how great it is, but also back it up by participating, volunteering, working. I once watched a documentary on Anne Frank, author of the famous diary chronicling the two years she and her family hid from the Nazis in her father's office attic. In the face of hopelessness, depression, and clausterphobia, Anne Frank wrote in her diary. She wrote, according to one historian, because as a writer, she needed to keep herself going, to find solace. I realize that I am the same way about nursing. It kept me going though September 11, even though I thought the world would come crashing down around me. Knowing I can help alleviate suffering in so many ways, both big and small, fills me with great pride. I need to do this work.

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