Well, back from fishing in the Wasteland—yes, it’s a real thing now in Fallout 76—and I decided to revisit some journal entries from about 20 years ago. This was pre-MySpace, peak LiveJournal days. That platform was a chaotic mess in the best way. Looking back now, I can’t help but notice how some of my old musings foreshadowed the relationship I’d later have with my late husband.

A wise friend once said, “never read the comments.” And back then? The comments were… interesting. Not awful, just interesting. I still read comments, though—these days they give me inspiration or insight into how something landed. As I’ve said before, this blog isn’t about going viral. It’s a chronicle—an archive of life, loss, absurdity, and survival.

Yesterday’s post was a blast from the past, literally. I unearthed a LiveJournal entry and gave it a new spin. Whimsical, true, and strangely enlightening. The edit came together beautifully—turning my occasional aphasia-babble into coherence. But then I hit a wall.

Trying to create a matching image using AI was… let’s just say, not a highlight. Eight tries later and I was still getting “this violates content policy” errors for what I thought were benign concepts. Apparently, a vague sketch of a medical setting is controversial. Who knew?

To my artist friends: I get it. You’re probably cringing at me using AI instead of buying art. Believe me, if I weren’t nearly broke, I’d absolutely be tossing coins to the illustrators. For now, I’m just doing my best.

The plan going forward is to dig out more of the bizarre, funny, and downright surreal stories from my years as a nurse, paramedic, and whatever else I’ve been in this Swiss Army knife of a career. I’ve spent a lot of time in grief lately—understandably—but it’s easy to fall down a rabbit hole of sadness. And while PTSD does that all by itself, especially with its signature flavor of depression, it helps to balance the scales with some gallows humor and absurd memories.

Nursing isn’t always doom and gloom. It has its hilarious night shift moments, “what-the-actual-hell” stories, and inexplicable policy quirks. Like the military, the absurd becomes normal if you survive long enough.

I’ll also be diving into more posts about the healthcare system itself—because scrolling through my ancient blog from 2004-2005 made it clear: we were complaining about politics in medicine back then, too. And it’s only gotten worse.

Anyway, the fishing hole in the Wasteland calls again. Who knew that in a post-apocalyptic world full of mutants, you’d still be able to take a break and go fishing?

And hey—while you’re taking a break, go love your dog. Call your mom. Be the person they think you are.