I think Eli has found his place, too.

I, a 36 year old childless woman, in a happy common-law marriage and a Nurse Practitioner at a Catholic charity clinic, will be warming the poles (okay, and prepping the crowd) for the greasing of the poles at the Royal Sonesta this year!  I have to laugh. What a matron I am by New York standards!   I guess this is why New Orleans is setting us free.  I get to do all of these things that I really love, concurrently, without guilt or secrets.  The beautiful women in my dance krewe who dance in underwear in the street can discuss local social issues with me as easily as the patients and health care providers I work with can teach me all the ins and outs of Mardi Gras parade viewing and drive-through daiquiris.  There is some continuity in my life that has been missing.  And I do not give a turd if that type of continuity sounds shallow or empty to someone.

To be honest with myself, my work is prooooobably suffering.  I am humbled every day by my patients and their strengths and weaknesses and beauty as humans facing different types of struggles.  As much as I feel rushed, sweaty, and exasperated with a broken medical system, I am so fortunate to be able to do my heart’s work and to help connect people in need with a tiny speck of the great resources that exist in our country.    No doubt I will not be reaching the level of diagnostic prowess I would have reached had we settled in Altus, OK or Las Cruces, NM.  All of those hours I have spent on the porch, making costumes, and out wandering from band to band could have been spent studying medicine after work and on weekends…. well, thank you, Suzette, for letting me off the hook.

Maybe I should have started this post “Dear Diary…”