Intrinsic Wanderlust

original content

Goodnight, Portland

July 2014
Blue Basin at John Day Fossil Beds

Central Oregon

June 2014
John Day Fossil Beds

Central Oregon

June 2014

Reap what you sow.

Mortuary school doesn’t have to end with a degree on the wall.

So It's Starting


After lots of hemming and hawing, reading and research, talking myself out of and into it again, I FINALLY applied to the Funeral Science program at one of the two schools in my state. I am terrified.

I am a 36-year-old woman who already has a degree in Criminal Justice, a Master’s level…

The majority of folks in my mortuary school were on their 2nd or 3rd careers. Most of them were older than you with children as old as me (I was a young 21 at the time).

I am currently back in school myself. This time I’m nearly a decade older and wiser. Education, in my opinion, gets better with age.

Follow your heart. Have no regrets.


Yesterday, she was artificially paralyzed and placed into a medicinal coma. I watched as the surgeon removed her diseased organ with sophisticated chopsticks. She left my care early this morning.

Just now, he rose from the dead thanks to a highly skilled, calm and cooperative code team. I watched as his heart began to beat again. I witnessed the color of his skin change as the oxygen molecules once again perfused into his tissues.


I haven’t had this much fun since my first autopsy.

The adrenaline rush was comparable to earning my marks(wo)man medal in the military with a 9mm.

I felt challenged and alive for the first time since starting nursing school.

My calling is found.

I have spent my morning with intermittent streams of tears running down my face, considering the ethics of euthanasia. There is no owners manual for a geriatric dog whose larynx is slowly paralyzing.

Her eyes showed weakness today for the first time, like she was telling me she can’t suffer through a fit too many more times. “Help me, best friend.”

Nobody warns you what life is like when you hoard syringes full of sedatives in case her tongue turns blue and she won’t calm down.

Or the thoughts of finding her flattened on the hardwood floor with white foamy vomit seeping from her mouth.