I want to thank those that read these blog posts on a daily basis and I want to reiterate a few things so that folks know what’s going on.

I know that I have really honestly overshared my medical conditions in the past little bit. It has been a huge challenge to go from a working professional to really not even be able to perform any kind of basic sustainable work. It doesn’t mean I’m an invalid but the truth is that even with work and a lot of rehab I will probably not be able to regain my former professions with any regularity. It’s been a lot to accept and a lot to deal with—as many of you know because I seem to post ad nauseam about this on Facebook. My page, my thoughts.

In speaking to speech therapy most recently, I asked for some suggestions about things to improve my mental acuity—specifically dealing with some of the effects of expressive aphasia.

I’m going to steal a little bit from, I believe, Wikipedia:

“Expressive aphasia, also known as Broca’s aphasia, is a language disorder that makes it difficult to speak fluently. It’s the most common type of non-fluent aphasia. People with expressive aphasia may experience: Hesitant speech; speech may be grammatically incorrect and effortful. Omitting words; small words like ‘is’, ‘the’, ‘and’ may be left out. Short sentences; speech may be short and simple, but still meaningful.”

It is not super bad all the time, but under stress—even a small amount—it comes out more than one would think. Anyhow, speaking with speech therapy about this, we discussed using AI to assist in editing my writing and organizing my thoughts more clearly. It’s been a really interesting experience, and it’s allowed me a great deal of ability to express myself more coherently. I had it read some of my older Facebook posts and blog entries, and with that, it’s helped me structure my thoughts more meaningfully.

I still believe one of the best lessons I can provide someone is through my lived experiences and how I integrated those into my nurse practitioner role. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: the most honest and devoted care comes from a genuine place.

Let me tell you a story.

Years ago, fresh out of nursing school, I worked with a cardiologist. Good guy, but he weighed well over 280 pounds and stood about 5’8″—he sort of resembled a male Violet Beauregarde from Willy Wonka. He routinely gave patients standard advice about diet and exercise, and frankly, it was hard to take seriously coming from someone clearly struggling with those things himself.

Then he had a heart attack. Not catastrophic, but serious. He saw the other cardiologist in town—small community, limited specialists. That doctor gave it to him straight: change your habits or you might not get a second chance.

When he returned to work 8–10 weeks later, he looked like a new person. He’d lost 50 pounds. Changed his diet. Committed to rehab and ongoing exercise. He said the hardest part was changing how he ate, and he credited his family with helping him stick with it. He told me, “The best thing about this, if there is one, is now I can look a patient in the eye and say, ‘I had a heart attack too, and this is what I had to do.’”

That experience changed his entire practice. He was always a competent physician, but now he was genuine. Empathetic. You could see it in how patients responded to him.

I wouldn’t wish a heart attack on anyone. But it reinforced an important truth: people connect to empathy.

This blog is how I try to share mine. I’m not perfect—ask a few folks and they’ll be glad to confirm it. But I’ve learned from a lot of my bad decisions. My primary care provider once told me the biggest factor in my strokes was untreated high blood pressure. Since August 2024, thanks to medication and consistent monitoring, I’ve kept my blood pressure below 140/90—usually around 118/70. My heart rate is steady, not tachycardic, and I’ve been sticking with my supplements. It took living the risk, not just preaching prevention, for me to get serious.

So yes, there is a point here: empathy. You can give all the advice in the world, but when you’ve lived the struggle, it means more. People told me for years to leave an abusive relationship. Those who’d been through it themselves? They were persistent—and eventually they got through to me.

When I talk to patients in similar situations, I don’t speak from theory. I speak from lived truth. But I also know when to stay quiet if someone doesn’t want that perspective.

That, too, is empathy.

Be empathetic like your dog and mom hope you are