You may have already noticed this about me, but I'm a little bit of a perfectionist. That is probably why I tend to point out personal flaws on my blog...because I'm my own worst critic.

I am the kind of student my husband hates. If we were in the same class in school he would roll his eyes at me. I answer questions in class. I hate to not understand something. I like knowing the answer before the question is asked.

Sometimes I have to remind my dear husband that if I don't know something I could kill someone...It's not like the 8:00 a.m. freshman psych class I think I only actually attended about 3 times. It's like real life. It's someone's mom or dad or sister or brother or child. Which makes it more stressful, but I suppose more rewarding in a way.

I think for me learning good patient care might be something I needed to wait to do until I was older. In this way I am glad that I am closer to 30 and still in school.

I have a different perspective now because it was my dad in the ICU bed for 9 months. It was me holding my still-warm stillborn daughter Allison in my arms (by the way all you healthcare workers who read this--they put me back in labor and delivery afterward--what the hell were they thinking?) , it was me visiting my mom in a locked psychiatric ward when I was in 7th grade.

You can't teach empathy and compassion like that.

I'm starting to believe it can only truly be learned in the most heart wrenching way.

Experience.