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For What It’s Worth
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by Dr. Melfi, Ph.D.
a registered nurse. I worked in an ICU with seriously ill patients and heartbreaking odds for survival. During my downtime, I read anything I could get my hands on. I went to the movies to wipe away the reality of my days at work, the sadness of people who saw my face instead of their loved ones, as they said their final good-bye. Often, I reworked the endings of the movies to suit my fancy, to suit my emotions, and I believed the writers often shortchanged their audience by leaving loose ends, or not caring about the investment I became a candy-stripper at the audience had made into the a local hospital, and found fictional character’s lives. So, it fulfilling to be attentive to I continued to read, but I also people’s needs. In the end, began to write. My work was I thought nursing would be sincere, but challenging, credible, best. Still, I read. Throughout school, throughout long hours of but amateurish, but I continued on for decades, furthering my studying, and impossible hours, through exhaustion of taking care professional degree, continuing to read, and polishing my of patients, I read. If I didn’t like writing skills. If I had known the stories endings, if I thought years ago, that I had the creative the author could have taken his imagination to become an character more seriously, or given author, I would have done so more attention to the plotline, immediately after graduation, but I recreated the story as I would then again, I wouldn’t have had have liked it to be told. I became the privilege of walking through I once wanted to be a writer, but I didn’t know that was something I could be. During the time I grew up, most women aspired to be a secretary, a teacher, a hair dresser, or a nurse. All noble professions to be sure, but none that pushed the boundaries of possibilities. I loved to read. I loved that every story brought me in a different direction, that I was able to get a glimpse of other lives, and laughed or cried at the characters final ending. Yet, still, I pursued. I liked helping people.
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the life of others as they suffered, better, walked out of the hospital, or died. I wouldn’t have understood that life was not guaranteed, and relationships were fragile. There was time gone by, but not wasted. I have finally seen my dreams come true with this column, but also in a novel which I have just completed.
got
For What it’s Worth, if not for your kind words, your emails, and your support, I might not have had the courage to complete my book. I thank you all, from the bottom of my heart, and I will let you know if I can find an agent to represent me. Also, in the works, my publisher from this magazine is considering putting a book together of all my articles from the past four years. Please let us know if that is something you would consider worthwhile.
Comments or Suggestions DrMelfi@mediaoms.com
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