Wow, it’s been a while since I have had the head space to sit and write about this. Being a nurse who has been out of institutional settings since the early nineties, I am realizing that things have changed dramatically since then. My idealism led me to ‘drop the reigns’ a bit, expecting the standard of care to be what I am familiar with…to my chagrin, I am realizing that even in the most quality institutions there is something missing…and that something seems to be what might be called a ‘care coordinator’.

V. ended up admitted to the hospital due to low bloodcounts, and they gave her blood through her newly implanted ‘port’, a handy device that gives access to the main blood vessels, eliminating the need to stick needles into her hard to find veins for blood drawing or IV infusions. The port had been placed two days prior to her unplanned hospital admission, and the surgeon told us not to mess with it at all for seven days. The surgeon set it up with what is called an ‘access’ that was left in place so I could give her IV fluids at home to combat the lingering dehydration that had been such a challenge. I had to go back to the Cape to take care of things, and my friend K. was visiting her while they were waiting for me to come back and bring her home. When I called to check in, K. told me that there had been some confusion about the port but it was taken care of. When I asked what, she told me that the nurse came in to deaccess the port before discharge, which is their protocol. K. said that V. tried to tell the nurse that she was told the port shouldn’t be touched for seven days…the nurse said she had to deaccess it, the doctor ordered it…

As you might imagine, I went a little banannas. I called the nurse’s station and spoke to V.’s nurse, remaining calm enough to explain that the port was brand new and the access was there because we give her fluids at home three times a week. When she realized the implications of what I was saying, she got really upset and said she would take care of it. By the time I got there, the risk management director was there, the port had been reaccessed and things had gotten taken care of…I, of course, was still incredulous on two levels…level one was that V. hadn’t been listened to, and as a result ended up in unnessary pain and the precious port had been jeapardized…level two is from a nursing perspective…the port was dressed like a fresh post operative site…the patient said so and also said the nurse shouldn’t deaccess it…why were doctors orders so rotely followed? Why wasn’t the order questioned? Why didn’t the doctor know? Why doesn’t the right hand know what the left hand is doing?

My question to the risk management coordinator was “Am I the only one holding all the pieces of information about V.’s care? Who’s accountable?” Her answer was to validate my upset and encourage me to continue to hold the pieces and speak up for V. at the risk of being labeled a ‘pain in the butt’ because I was right, noone is holding the pieces…just me…it made me realize on a more profound level how important it is for a patient to have an advocate.

I think what shocked me the most was the acceptance of this mode of care, or maybe the apathy about it. It feels to me like all of the fragmentation and specialization of care has undermined the most important reason anyone should go into medical work…treating the whole patient…restoring health. How is it acceptable for mistakes that jeapardize the patient’s wellbeing to be taken so lightly? I worked in hospitals for twenty years, and it seems so unbelievable to me that this kind of what I would consider negligence is not only tolerated, but apparently allowed! I’m a nurse and having a full time job advocating…I can’t imagine how non-medical people handle it…

Posted on: Monday, July 19th, 2010. Filed under: Advocacy
2 Comments »

This is the final part of a four-part post. Read Part 1. Read Part 2. Read Part 3.

On Monday, I brought V. and her medical treatment records to Providence. As we sat waiting, we saw the board that offered acupuncture, massage, reiki, and reflexology to patients and their care givers. When the new doc finally came in, he was completely kind and optimistic. Given the paperwork he had read, he anticipated an inoperable situation, but he was not at all hopeless. He told her all of the options available to her and was visibly shocked to hear what had been told to her. He did an exam on her and then with a bewildered look on his face, asked if she minded that he got a colleague to ‘double check’ his exam.

The colleague concurred, and the new doc said he didn’t understand any of what had been told to us, but that we were going to start fresh. When V. told him the medical doc’s prognosis and that she encouraged V. to get her affairs in order, he smiled and told her that in five years they would go to Boston and take the doc out for lunch…

V. choked out, “Five years?” and my heart broke for her.

“Absolutely!” our newly sainted new doc said with a smile. “I would book your surgery for tomorrow if it wasn’t so close to your last dose of medicine!”

We left there elated with an appointment for a week from the following Thursday so we could find out what the 24 person team thought of her information. As the days went on, I realized the impact of our prior experience and surrendered and released a lot of doubt that crept in. At the appointment, her new doc came in with a smile and said, “The team is unanimous about the surgery. I’ve taken the liberty of booking you for next Wednesday.” V. was smiling broadly. I was too until the kind nurse practitioner gave me a hug…then the tears started to well up.

The new doc found me after V.’s three hour surgery. “It was quite a massive surgery, but we got 98% of it and the other two percent will be taken care of by the medication. It’s a good thing we got in there right now. If we hadn’t, she would not have survived the month…”

I controlled myself until he was done speaking and then practically jumped on him with joy and gratitude. After he peeled me off of him, he scooped up my crying 85 year old mother and cried with her. I heard the word ‘massive’ often, and her recovery was a long haul. She is now seven weeks post op and slowly regaining her strength. I put myself on hold in regard to my upset with Boston, thinking angrily that I’d deal with THEM when V.’s back up and functioning. The time has given me perspective, and as the lessons take root, I’ve decided to take the high road, to use my experience for what I imagine the Universe intended me to learn. Anger and retaliation will keep me stuck in anger and retaliation. Using my experience to help those who may have a similar experience is a much clearer path.

As I thought about it, I wondered what might have happened if V. didn’t have an advocate who happened to be a nurse; who didn’t know to question the prestigious authority of the Boston hospital team. Someone less fortunate might have gone home and gotten their ‘affairs in order’, or worse, taken matters into their own hands and put an end to their own life. I cannot sit quietly with the thought that lives are being needlessly lost, and I am certain now that my end of this experience is valuable to those who need support and education to advocate effectively for their loved ones. I am grateful to be able to share what I know to help others.

Posted on: Monday, May 10th, 2010. Filed under: Advocacy
No Comments »

This is the third part of a four-part post. Read Part 1. Read Part 2.

V. was suffering silently again, and when I told her I was taking her to Providence for a second opinion, she was reluctant to change doctors. Up until now I hadn’t turned my ‘nurse card’. Now, I was going to have to use it. I called the medical attending’s office and demanded a call from her. I was seriously upset; the very sweet secretary was supportive of my less than polite anger. I asked her to copy V.’s medical records, that I wanted to take her for a second opinion. She was very kind and told me she would reproduce the paperwork and I could pick it up when we went back up there. She called right back to tell me the medical attending couldn’t call me now but would within the hour.

When she finally called, I told her about the hopelessness she was instilling, about the lack of usual contact from the assistant and the nurse. I told her about V.’s distended abdomen and her discomfort and demanded she take care of it. I told her that she was NEVER to be hopeless in regard to V. and that all conversations with V. should happen only with me present. I told her that I understood quality care, and that despite the prestigious names behind she and her team, I was unimpressed. I wanted V. to get cohesive, quality care. I told her I was taking V. for a second opinion.

“Are you a nurse?” she asked.

“Yes,” I admitted, “but none of you knew that when you abandoned V.’s care to me.”

She absorbed all that I said, and asked me to bring V. to the ER in Boston where she would meet us. There was suddenly, as I was driving V. up there, a call from the assistant who was full of apologies and promises to expedite her admission and treatment.

V. was so uncomfortable and despite the promises, she ended up waiting in a chair in the flu infested ER for 2 hours before they admitted her. The docs, to their credit, came and spoke to her in the ER lobby. They apologized to her, and she was able to tell them she felt they had given up on her. They were apologetic and supportive.

Finally, she was admitted to a hospital room. The procedure to tap the fluid from her abdomen was done to her great relief. I went back home to take care of things and stayed in constant phone contact. The next day she would be discharged, she told me, but there was something wrong in her voice.

“You ok?” I asked.

“They aren’t going to do the surgery.” She answered in a controlled whisper.

“Not YET.” I assured her.

“I have to hang up now, I’ll talk to you later.” She replied and hung up the phone.

I surrendered and released all of the fear that conversation brought up in me. Something wasn’t right. I called her back a few hours later and she finally came clean. The surgeon had come in to say he wouldn’t operate because the medicine definitely wasn’t working. The assistant doc came in and asked her when she was going to have the fluid tapped from her abdomen. She told him to check the chart, the procedure had been done. He told her at least the blood test showed progress with the medicine. Next the medical attending came in and asked her how much she wanted to know.

“Everything!” V. answered.

The medical attending told her she was terribly ill and there was nothing they could do for her. V. asked if there was somewhere else she could go for treatment or some other experimental treatment she could get. The medical doc told her there was no where that could help her and no experimental treatments available. The medical attending told her to go home and “Get her affairs in order.” V. was working very hard to keep from crying.

“We are going for a second opinion.” I told her calmly. “This is a bunch of crap.”

The next morning I went to Boston to pick her up. She was refusing to accept her death sentence and told me, “I’d like to go to Providence for that second opinion.”

“You have an appointment on Monday.” I told her.

“Good,” she smiled. “Yesterday I was scared and sad; today I’m just pissed off!”

The fight was back in her!

To be continued…

Posted on: Sunday, May 9th, 2010. Filed under: Advocacy
1 Comment »

This is the second part of a four-part post. Read Part 1.

I had to drive my dog back home and break the news to P. and my 85 year old mother, torn between two places it seems I absolutely needed to be. Thank God P. was there and took care of Momma. We were all shaken. I drove back to the hospital and missed the ambulance by fifteen minutes. They gave me a sheet with directions to the Boston hospital where V. was to be evaluated by a specialist. It was now 11p.m. and pouring rain.

If there’s any place I am uncomfortable negotiating in a car its Boston. I lived there for two years and NEVER drove my car in the area. It was such a confusing place, and now I had to find this hospital in the dark and rain. At 1a.m. I finally found the place, or so I thought. Turns out there are TWO campuses and I picked the wrong one. Back in the car and finally, I parked and found V. on a stretcher behind a curtain in a busy Emergency Room.

I spent the night on a hard plastic chair while V. slept. My anxiety kept me awake as I waited for the new physician to arrive. Time crawled by, and at 11a.m. on Thanksgiving morning we were finally visited by the specialist she had been rushed to see. He was knowledgeable and funny, gaining V.’s confidence right away. She always appreciates a dry sense of humor. He told us what to expect from her hospital stay and that, first things first, he was going to get that fluid out of her belly, the cause of the distention. He explained the protocol of three rounds of medication at three week intervals. Then, when the medication reduced the impact, he would operate.

She was transported to a hospital room and ordered me to leave in a jokingly demanding voice. “I’ll be ok, Deb,” she assured me, “you go sleep after you have all of that turkey and fixings I’m sure they’re making. Don’t worry, I’m not going to die of this, I have too many people left to aggravate in this world!”

Her sense of humor revived, I bumbled my way out of Boston and drove the two hours back. I was still in shock and it wasn’t till the drive landed me at home that I realized how tired I was; tired, but now much more optimistic.

Things were finally under the control of specialists, doctors who knew what they were doing who would give V. the expert care she needed. A steely strength seemed to emerge from my core, a sense of certainty that V. was going to be alright. There was no room for negativity. I only gave the news to those I trusted to stay positive about it. I set my intention for her complete recovery and surrendered it to the Universe. Any time fear or doubt crept in, I surrendered that also. It was quite an exercise; the genuine opportunity to be the example of what I teach others about creating the reality you intend.

They did the needed tests and she was so much more comfortable without that fluid pressing on her insides. They gave her round one of her medication before she left the hospital four days later. Things seemed to be calming down. She would be managed by the medical specialist and see the admitting surgeon again just after the last round of medication was given. What a relief!

I drove her to Boston three weeks later. She met her primary nurse, and the medical doctor and her assistant were full of optimism and encouragement. After she left the hospital, she received follow up phone calls from her nurse and the assistant physician. Toward the end of the three weeks, the fluid was returning and she was uncomfortable again, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as when she was diagnosed. The docs said they expected it because it was the nature of the illness, and as the medication worked she wouldn’t have to deal with that. After the third round of medication, they made her an appointment for a fourth, just in case she needed it. The appointment with the surgeon landed us in Boston again.

When we arrived in his office, his original jolly demeanor wasn’t so jolly. He started to talk about the blood test that indicated whether or not the medication was working. He said the numbers were coming down but not as fast as they usually see. He explained that in 25% of the cases, the medicine doesn’t work. He had her surgery scheduled but wouldn’t perform it now because the intended effect of the medication failed to give him an optimum surgical outcome. He was sorry.

V. was bewildered and didn’t really get what he was saying. That sick feeling began to creep up my throat, and I finally spoke. “Don’t you also go by the clinical presentation?” I asked. “She gets better after the medicine, and it isn’t till about a week before the next dose that she has a harder time.”

He looked at me, probably surprised at my shift to medical jargon. He turned to V., “Do you mind if I do an examination?”

She agreed and when he did the exam he was optimistic again. “I can feel the difference; I’m going to be bullish about this. We’ll do a fourth dose and even a fifth dose if we have to!”

We showed up for the fourth dose of medication at the outpatient unit. V.’s primary nurse admitted her, but there was a difference in her demeanor that I initially chalked up to a busy day. The IV was started, and then the medical doc came by. She began to talk to V., asking her if she understood what the surgeon had told her. V. spit it all back to her, just as he said, there wasn’t as much of a change as he expected but there was a change on physical exam and he would do a fourth and even fifth dose of the medication. The assistant doc showed up in the middle of the conversation, and as the medical doc took the conversation in a more pessimistic direction, V. interrupted her. “Aren’t you going to give me the medicine?”

“Oh, yes, of course!” replied the attending. The assistant looked shaken and they left to go and talk to V.’s primary nurse at the desk out of earshot. They never returned to finish the conversation. The primary nurse sent other nurses over to attend to V. and never even spoke to her before we left.

She, as usual, felt much better after the medication, but the fluid had been slowly accumulating and was now becoming uncomfortable for her again. There were no phone calls from the primary nurse or the assistant doc. V. was obviously uncomfortable, and now her positive attitude was subdued. I sent an email to the assistant and told him that V. was feeling like they had given up hope on her due to their attitudes and lack of usual contact. He wrote back and told me he’d call her the next day. The next day, there was no phone call.

I put out a call to the Universe to send me the information I needed to get V. the proper care. Then I remained open and surrendered all thoughts that would be obstacles to the manifestation of my intention. The next day, a friend said, “Hey, you should talk to my friend who had what V. has. She went to Providence for care and they saved her life.”

Then an acquaintance of V.’s spotted me at the grocery store and in asking how she was, told me a friend of hers had the same diagnosis as V. She is being treated in Providence and is getting great care. An hour later, a friend of mine who goes to school in Providence called to tell me she had heard about a place in Providence that does great work with people with V.’s diagnosis.

I called Providence and made the appointment for the following Monday.

To be continued…

Posted on: Saturday, May 8th, 2010. Filed under: Advocacy
No Comments »

This is the first in a four-part story…

“Well, where do you want to go, Providence or Boston?” The question was posed by the Emergency room doc who read the CAT Scan and had given us the grim diagnosis. A rush of overwhelming emotions surged through me, not the least of which was relief. Even though the news was serious, I felt I had been the only one pushing to get V. seen by someone who could tell her what the heck was causing the abdominal distention. It was mild when I left for Sedona and ten days later upon my return, I was shocked to see the seven month pregnant sized abdomen that was causing her so much discomfort.

She had been complaining of gastro-intestinal discomfort since the summer, being seen by a physician’s assistant who, secondary to a diagnosis of gastritis from V.’s first trip to the ER, was treating her with antacids. She was getting no relief, and the medicine was tweaked and shifted to no avail. Finally she was sent for an endoscopy, a procedure where a tube was passed into the stomach and small intestine to see if there was any abnormality. The endoscopy came back ‘unremarkable’. I called the office where V. was being treated, and when I told the receptionist I needed to speak to the attending physician to find out what the next step was, I was met with the information I already knew.

“The test showed no abnormalities.” The receptionist reiterated.

“I know that,” I said, containing my annoyance. “If the endoscopy is negative, there has to be a next step to figure out what IS wrong.”

The receptionist went into a defensive posture, defending the doc who did the procedure, singing his praises as if I had doubted his diagnosis, or lack thereof. I told her I wanted to speak to the attending physician who oversees V.’s physician’s assistant…today. “I want V. to be seen by a doctor.” I told her.

“She is booked solid.” Came the terse reply. “She can’t see her today, how about next Monday?”

My patience was about to disappear…”I want to speak to a doctor, TODAY!” I answered, ignoring her words.

“I can’t guarantee that.” She told me, “I will try to have her call you and if she cannot I’ll call back and let you know, ok dear?”

“Thank you.” I said and hung up the phone.

I spent the day waiting for a phone call. At 5p.m. I picked up the phone and dialed the doctor’s office. “The office is closed for the day…please leave a message.”

That was the last straw. At the sound of the beep I blew up. “I am calling again in regard to V. I spoke to the receptionist earlier who promised me a call from either Dr. W. or herself to let me know when the doc would call. This is extremely unprofessional. V. has been being treated for gastritis by your office for two months now, and she needs to be seen by a doctor. If there is anything seriously wrong with her and you have been negligent, I am not above taking legal action.”

I slammed the phone down, flabbergasted by having to threaten caregivers into action. I didn’t regret it.

I had clients in the morning, and at 1p.m. the phone rang. “Dr. W. called.” V. told me. “I have a two o’clock appointment with her.”

P. was visiting from NY, and drove V. to the Doctor’s office. I met them there. Dr. W. is a kind, intelligent physician with an amazing reputation. The only problem is how overworked she is. As she examined V.’s enormous abdomen, she was obviously concerned. “You know, “she said, “a lot of this is intuitive. My gut is saying we don’t wait to book a CAT Scan until next week. I know its Thanksgiving eve, but I would strongly encourage you to go straight to the ER and get the test tonight.”

Dr. W. wrote some letters to inform the ER docs of her opinion and get her through to be seen right away. We drove down there and now, after the scan was done and evaluated, we were being given a choice of where to go to get her treated for this unbelievable and terrifying diagnosis.

“Boston or Providence?”

My gut said Providence, certainly not an intellectual decision given what kind of a reputation the Boston hospitals have. I told V. I didn’t know why, but my intuition said Providence. She agreed for a moment, and then had the same after thoughts as I. “Isn’t Boston supposed to be the best?” she asked, staying strong for me. She was also relieved; to know she wasn’t crazy, to finally find out what was wrong.

“So it’s Boston?” the ER doc asked, and V. agreed. “I’ll be back after I make arrangements for the transport. You’ll be going by ambulance.”

To be continued…

Posted on: Friday, May 7th, 2010. Filed under: Advocacy
No Comments »

There has been a great deal of interest in the Intuitive Development course I am offering, and along with the interest there have been a great many questions. I will give an explanation here, and please feel free to post any questions or comments you may have…if you have something to contribute, I’m sure it will be important to others who may have the same questions or concerns.

I am frequently asked if I can “teach someone to be psychic”. My answer is always that I can teach a person to identify and clear the obstacles to their natural psychic abilities. I believe that we are all born with psychic potential, and the ‘black sheep’ of the senses, the ‘sixth sense’, is as powerful and important as the other five. If this is true, then why is the sixth sense so elusive and ‘doubt-able’? The answer to this is related more to what we are taught to believe than as a measure of our actual potential.

Belief is a powerful thing, and the ambivalent nature of our relationship to and acceptance of our own psychic potential has to do with the conundrum of ‘knowing’, or the innate understanding of the truth of human potential; versus ‘belief’, or what we learn about who we are and what we are capable of. We come in with that knowing, cut from the bolt of Universal Consciousness, before the development of human consciousness. This innate ‘knowing’ is directly connected to the truth of our existence as holographic replicas of the Source, but learning to master the vast power available to us through this connection requires framing by conscious beings who have been through their own process of recognition and mastery. Here is where the system fails us.

In antiquity, psychic communication and mastery of energetic potential was the norm. Earth based religions, healing and magical practices were the belief structures upon which society was built. People were well aware of energy and how to work with it; totally in tune with the cycles of the seasons and the Earth as ‘Mother’, the provider. Many indigenous cultures still in existance today continue to interact with the natural world in an energetically attuned way, and we consider this type of behaviour as evidence of their ‘primitive’ (translate to silly) beliefs.

Since monotheistic religion gained power and DesCartes came up with the mechanistic theory, you can pretty much imagine how the practice of beliefs outside of the emerging, limiting social paradigm became life threatening. Many of us are aware of the Inquisition, the Witch burnings in Salem, the burning of libraries of arcane knowledge; a literal and systemic annihalation of once prevalent beliefs that were now threatening to the new order. Mystical systems went underground and were hidden and preserved. Arcane thought systems were passed on in secret and protected by sacred oaths. The public at large retreated in fear from the powerful heritage that was their birthright. Psychic abilities became less and less acceptable, and soon dissappeared from daily life except for the occasional ‘coincidence’ that evidenced psychic awareness; the exception rather than the rule.

As you understand if you are reading this text, there is a resurgence of interest in psychic potential. Dr. Elizabeth Lloyd Mayer, in her book Extraordinary Knowing, went out on a limb in bringing to light what she called ‘anomalous knowing’. Being a scientist herself, once she had the personal experience of encountering a kind of knowing that was not of the five senses or conventional communication techniques, she could not ignore it. Her book addresses not only the evidence of psychic ability that is beyond the parameters of modern Psychoanalysis, but also what happens when someone within a closed thought system breaks out of the box and has the courage to share with the world the discrepancies she found . As soon as she spoke publically on what she’d discovered about psychic potential, she was innundated by a number of professionals who couldn’t wait to share their experiences with someone who wouldn’t think they were ‘delusional’.

So, the sixth sense, our natural psychic ability, remains something many of us experience regularly but keep to ourselves; talking ourselves into some rational explanation about how this is a ‘coincidence’, or laughing it off as ‘unbelievable’. My experience is that people tend to experience the appearance of psychic information at the far extremes of the spectrum, either when the information is so meaningless it seems laughable that we ‘knew’ it, or when the information is catastrophic.

In the first case, the filter of the conscious mind and what it will allow is not engaged enough to block the information. I experienced an example of this a few weeks ago when I walked into my sister’s house while she was watching the Miss America Pageant, and immeditely predicted the order of the contestants and the winner. My sister was impressed and wanted lottery numbers…if I could predict that, why not lottery numbers?

What became clear to me is my absolute non-attachment to being ‘right’. The accuracy of the information was directly related to my conscious mind’s lack of interest in the subject; therefore the information could come up from my psychic knowing unimpeded. Getting lottery numbers may be possible, but my desire to be ‘right’ for my sister would not fall into the realm of non-attachment.

At the other end of the spectrum, we have the mother who wakes in the night with a clear knowledge that her child has been killed in the war, or the twin who suddenly feels a pain in his chest as his brother, hundreds of miles away, is experiencing a heart attack. It is at such times that the conscious mind gets over-ruled, and the important information blasts into awareness.

The pupose of this work, development of the Intuition, is to allow for acceptance and application of psychic ability on the mid-points of the spectrum; to train the conscious mind to recognize and distinguish psychic information from all the other kinds of thought that habitually dominate our thinking. Identifying the things that are obstacles to our psychic awareness is the first step towards recognizing pure psychic awareness as it arises.

Education in the development of energetic consciousness as we grow into the belief structures that convince us we are limited, allows the intellect to question the existing structures that we take on blind faith. Just like Dr. Mayer, once we become aware that what we have believed in as ‘the truth’ of existence is challenged in a factual and plausible way, the opening leads us to a dimension of limitlessness that reflects the ‘knowing’ that we came in with. The old beliefs fade away in the liberation of this untapped potential, and the world and our relationship to it will never be the same!

Posted on: Monday, March 30th, 2009. Filed under: Intuitive Development
20 Comments »

I’m happy to announce that my wonderful web guy has provided us with the capability to record sessions and have them available to you quickly, in a streaming audio format and/or to download to your computer or MP3 player. So please let me know (when you book your session) whether or not you are interested in a recording, and I will direct you accordingly.

Happy Holidays! deb

Posted on: Friday, November 28th, 2008. Filed under: Readings
No Comments »

In the evolution of this work, I have noticed that most people will book a one hour session the first time they schedule. I imagine this is because they don’t know what to expect, and are going for the least expensive of the options. My experience with most of my “first timers” is, at the end of the first hour, they are sorry that they didn’t schedule a two hour session! This leads, many times, to an immediate rebooking or an extension of the session if I have the availability to accommodate that. Often, I am booked solid and cannot accommodate the extension, leaving the client (and me!) with a sense of unfinished business.

Working with energy, I am clear that everything happens for a reason, and certain people, despite wanting “more”, have gotten exactly what they need. Yet more times than not, the client opens up and it seems that a two hour session would have been the more optimum choice, at least for the first session.

Many times, clients have to book far in advance due to my availability, so, in an attempt to provide my clients with the information that they need to make the best choice possible for themselves, I thought it would be helpful to post this info on the website for your consideration…

looking forward to hearing from you…deb

Posted on: Friday, November 28th, 2008. Filed under: Readings
No Comments »

I have recently received quite a few inquiries as to whether or not I work with adolescents. The answer is a resounding YES! I love working with young people, and am happy to do so. As a nurse I have worked inpatient adolescent psych in a number of different settings; a challenge most of my peers found insurmountable. I have tremendous respect for young people and find their open, honest questioning of reality refreshing and inspiring. So bring on the kids! Please feel free to post questions or comments here. Deb

Posted on: Monday, May 5th, 2008. Filed under: What's New
No Comments »