I wonder what all of my patients are feeling now. Where they are now. If they are alive or dead. If they are physically sick. If they are mentally sick. If they have found their families. If their families have found them. (I call them MY patients, even though all I did for some of them was give them information and pass out their "meals.") That hospital was MINE. It was my life. You don't understand...I ate, slept, breathed nursing. I worked 3 and 4 nights a week. Not only was it mine, it was OURS. It belonged to the doctors, to my coworkers.

We worked our asses off...and continue to. Some of them were displaced. Some of them lost EVERYTHING. Some lost family. One thing is that we ALL lost our "home." We lost what innocense we had. We lost humility. I'm not exactly sure what we will gain out of all of this. I hear people say that New Orleans will rise again. Methodist will rise again. There will always be patients, families, people who need. I don't know if I want to be a part of that renewal. That green growth out of a black vat of mud. I still feel like I want to run, start over in another part of the country. God put me here for a reason. Was this my only reason, and now it's time for me to move?

I hate what I see around me. I hate the dispair. I hate the theives. I hate the riff-raff, the people that can't even conduct themselves in a civil manner at a business. I know that there are people like this, but I don't want a part of it. The hurricane made me weak, but I think humanity is making me sick.