I don’t honestly even know where to start. The past two weeks have been a whirlwind of feelings swirling around me like a swarm of locusts I couldn’t escape. Sadness stinging my eyes, disappointment constantly wisping by, anger rearing its ugly face no matter how many times I tried to shoo it away.

What do I do with all of this? How do I explain this to everyone who’s supported me these past five years? But, more importantly, how do I get rid of the thick cloud of locusts?

Therapy has been constant this past year. I manage my medication cocktail twice a month with a therapist and twice monthly with my psychiatric nurse practitioner. The “locusts” won’t disappear, but my focus and energy will shift over time. The sadness will lessen, the sting of disappointment and failure will dull. The anger with myself, the situation, and what happened will take time but eventually redirect to where I’ll land next.

I’ve given that so much thought. My original plan was to work with hospice patients, oncology once I had enough experience, then wound care certification. But unfortunately, many of those things require a nursing degree, so I have to reshape how this would all look.

I once took a Lyft ride with a woman who chatted with me on the way to my physical therapy appointment after my stroke. I asked what she did for a living, and she said she was a death doula. I had not heard of that. A birth doula was familiar to me, barely, but not a death doula. Some are called death midwives. She explained that she offered the gift (her word) of time, listening, and support through the start, end and post dying process to the patient and their family. I was so fascinated by this. The gift of time. How often had I felt rushed through even just a doctor’s appointment? Too many to count.

Losing my dream of nursing is something I may never get over, but the idea of giving my time to hospice patients and their families is also a dream. The patient dynamic, conversations, and interaction were always my favorite time of day in clinicals. I loved the stories, the human touch, the undivided attention to the patient.

Where am I going with all of this? I’ve just enrolled (thank you, mom and Bob) in a Death Doula program. What better way to wrangle my favorite aspects of medical care into the gift of time and make it a career? I’m excited about it.

The grief comes and goes in waves. I won’t lie and sit here and say I am fine. I am heartbroken, at times feel lost, and cry out of nowhere when reality once again sets in. But for now, I have something to sink my teeth into that makes me happy. I have friends that constantly check in with me for which I’m so grateful.

This blog will slowly morph into something directed at what I’m doing and away from nursing. So stay tuned. And thank you for hanging in here with me. The support and love and messages I’ve received – are priceless.

I can tell you one thing- this will not take on the look of a sympathy card. That is just not my jam or who I am. it will reflect more of a joyful presence, a calming constant. Pat suggested “Bee Bop A Doula,” to which I nearly spit out my drink. His gift- wit, humor, and undying love he’s shown me through all of this.