When I see a sight like that headed to the sawmill early on a Monday morning it can only mean one thing....Big Ernie listens when it matters. We brainstormed at Gigi's pool yesterday about who could play what role in the formation of a local rural health clinic. These types of places are not funded very well, so they depend on volunteers to keep the whole thing going. I would assume that corporate big bucks would embrace such a plan since it cuts their bad debt by 3/4 and gives families an opportunity to heal themselves. I know...I'm such a glass half -full person. Poopie Pollyanna is my story, and I'm stickin' to it.
A multidisciplinary approach to healthcare delivery involves much more than diagnosis and treatment which is where I've made a living for over thirty years. Well, kinda sorta. Most of the big money goes to nursing because they're all in demand and stuff. More beds = more nurses. I snuck in to visit my dying cousin in the intensive care unit today. Her husband sat at her side, a retired CRNA, computing her score on the liver transplant list. She was a nurse back in the day too, down in the big city dialysis unit, That was way before universal precautions was second nature to us. I kid you not....I once watched my lab supervisor perform an autopsy with a cig hanging out of his mouth while he sawed. That one never made CSI.
Sawmill? Always some sort of fire to put out. Too many women up in that place to even think straight. Have I ever mentioned how I seriously hate drama? Yep...I thought so. We always seem to roll with it though. A big shoutout to whoever is in charge up in there because I get to sit down now and then. And, as Martha would say:" That's a good thing."