630-682-1095 deb@debgauldin.com

Humor Competition Winner

I couldn’t be more thrilled to have placed 3rd in this esteemed contest.

Jeanne Robertson is  the best of the best professionally and as kind a person you’ll ever meet.  Check her out!

JeanneRobertson.com

      WINNING ENTRY

Nurses Week in England

NURSES WEEK IN ENGLAND!
 

A Dream Come True!

In addition to presenting programs for the airmen and staff at Lakenheath Airbase, I was invited to Westminster Abbey to attend a service commemorating the life of Florence Nightingale as a special guest of the 48th Medical Group.

A tour of the Florence Nightingale Museum and high tea overlooking Big Ben put this experience over the top!

Thanks to Colonel Sheelah Walker and the dedicated medical team and staff of the 48th.

YOU INSPIRE ME

 

The Search for Meaningful

Trying to Slow Down A Little

Can any of you relate to being chronically overcommitted, well intentioned, but seriously depleted? I didn’t think so.

This was the case years ago, when I reached out to a friend who was also a spiritual advisor. When tempted to say yes, she suggested I pause and mindfully seek guidance from my Source.  We role-played ways I could claim this space for spiritual connection and contemplation. We practiced ways to graciously say no. I vowed to only accept opportunities deemed “meaningful”.

Soon after, the grade school librarian called and asked if I would be kind enough to come in and help with Aids. I took a deep breath and recited my well-rehearsed mantra. “Thank you for asking. I will give this some thought and get back to you”, I responded.

Step two.  It was time to ask for guidance. I would do this perfectly. I gathered my supplies. Retrieving a candle, I turned on soft music, and donned my favorite meditation bra. Breathing deeply, I sought the best reply.

AIDS…hmmm…was this meaningful? Who better than a nurse to come in and sing to the children about AIDS?  I knew a song about the AIDS quilt.  Yep, this was meaningful.

I returned the librarian’s call. She was very appreciative and wanted me there from noon to 3pm.  Now I love health education, but there was no way I had enough songs about AIDS to fill three hours!

“We sure don’t want the children burning themselves.” she continued.  “Burning?” I asked. “While dripping hot candle wax onto their eggs” she emphasized.

My mind raced. What Eggs?  I thought she said AIDS!  She was asking me to help the kids decorate Ukrainian Easter EGGS!  I could barely choke out a trembling response.  “Eggs… Eggs aren’t meaningful!”

I have no idea what she must of thought about my response. As you might have guessed, I spent the following afternoon meaningfully coloring eggs! I am pretty sure I heard laughter coming from the heavens!

America’s Got Some Talent

I stepped off the stage to the sound of laughter and cheers.  Instead of a conference room full of nurses, the setting was a club in West Hollywood and the man following me was a talent agent. Had I just agreed to audition for America’s Got Talent (AGT)?  Was my mind playing tricks or had I lost my mind altogether?  Isn’t a guitar-playing, singing nurse humorist a little odd?  Clearly I’d never seen the popular television show.

As I stood among hundreds of fellow AGT hopefuls snaking for blocks around the Richmond Virginia Convention Center, “odd” was re-defined. Line-mates included a flamenco dancer, an intense cowboy pacing back and forth in pointy, purple, lizard-looking boots, and a man who could best be described as an accident waiting to happen.

I am not kidding.  Less than a block behind was an elderly black man. He was slightly bent at the waist and wore a broad smile. Tossed over his shoulder, were a pair of well-worn roller skates.  At his side was a young man carrying his grandfather’s inhaler in one hand and a 7-foot ladder in the other.

Just as I began morphing into my public-health-and-safety nurse persona (think Bruce Banner), my number was called. I considered trying to blend in with an inner city step dance team or running to my car. Instead, a small group of us were ushered before a “Pre-Heidi/Howie” judge whose personality and sense of humor appeared to be tightly coiled into the bun atop her Gen-X head.  No affect. No eye contact. No problem. I’d worked with plenty of physicians.

We were told to stand on the “X” taped to the floor and to cut whatever material we had prepared from 90 seconds to a mere 45. I estimated that it would take most of that time to stop my knees from knocking. It turns out the audition was really fun. The judge actually laughed.

This would have been an excellent sign had I been in the right room! I thought I was auditioning as a nurse comedian – a strolling “menstrual-singer” with a killer bladder-control song. But alas, I was billed as a singer, singer. You know, Whitney Houston, Carrie Underwood, P. Diddy.

After a several month wait, I learned I had not been selected. With a mix of disappointment and relief, I cancelled my Botox appointments and returned the Gina Lollobrigida head scarves and tinted glasses.The talent agent would like me to give it another go. We’ll see. I’m too old (and other things) to sleep my way to the top and I don’t roller skate, but I will work on a new ditty about pee and keep you posted!