My writing voice was forged long before I ever called myself a writer. It began in high school, as that young, fiery girl faced the challenges of growing up, turned scientific in the college years as each assignment grew in complexity, and continued to hone skills within the walls of a teaching hospital with research and publication mandates. In that Level 1 trauma facility in fast-moving EDs, ORs, and ICUs, with high-stakes conversations, and in moments where clarity, empathy, and precision mattered, my writing voice broadened and spanned into scientific papers.
I started out as an EMT in a small-town emergency department, and those early years taught me how to listen quickly, speak plainly, and act decisively. Stories unfolded in real time, and I learned that behind every chart was a human being carrying fear, hope, and unanswered questions.
From there, I earned my ADN and moved into nursing, eventually relocating to a large metroplex where the pace intensified, and the complexity grew. I completed my Master of Healthcare Administration (MHA) and transitioned into leadership, working in a large urban emergency department and later at a county hospital designated as a Level I Trauma Center. The work was demanding, exhilarating, and relentless. Decisions carried weight. Communication had to be clear, accurate, and grounded in trust.
Over the years, I moved through roles that blended clinical insight with operational strategy, ultimately retiring as an Executive Director. The environment was high-energy and high stress, marked by measurable success and constant responsibility. Yet what sustained me wasn’t only professional achievement—it was the discipline of self-care and yoga, which provided balance, perspective, and the ability to stay present amid intensity.
That balance now lives in my writing.
My healthcare background shapes how I approach every piece of content: with structure and logic, empathy and awareness, and respect for both data and human experience. I understand how professionals think under pressure, how patients receive information when they’re vulnerable, and how clear language can reduce confusion and build confidence.
Writing, for me, is a continuation of that work—translating complexity into clarity, honoring lived experience, and creating meaning from years spent at the intersection of care, leadership, and humanity.
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