Finished my book!

yes, it finally happened

it feels kind of weird….to not have that burden anymore….

but I can’t figure out how to add the pic today so sorry!



Finished my book!

Reincarnation for dummies

In the Buddhist tradition, each life force is believed to be reincarnated in a form related to their life on earth

Given this, here are my predictions

Donald Trump will return as a mosquito.  Granted he will be the biggest, ugliest, and most TREMENDOUS mosquito you’ve ever seen.Image result for ugliest mosquito

Mitch MicConnell will be a bottom dwelling eel. Image result for most disgusting eel

Paul Ryan will be a spineless slugImage result for slug

Sarah Huckabee Sanders, Kellyanne Conway,  and Sean spicer will be cockroaches

Image result for cockroaches

John McCain will be a Bhutan Glory butterfly, endangered and rare



Image result for bhutan glory butterfly

Reincarnation for dummies

Suicide touches us all

A week ago today Dr GS shot himself in the head.  Two people I am close to knew him very well.  He worked as a psychiatrist.  How would you feel right now if the person who was treating you took their own life?

He had reasons.  His wife was divorcing him and his children weren’t speaking to him. His wife had already moved on with someone new.  She was doing everything she could to get as much of his finances as she could.  He canceled his life insurance 2 days before.  I suspect his initial plan was to make it look like an accident, and I guess that didn’t work out, but it means he clearly decided days before he did it.

Mondays are hard days.  Maybe the idea of facing his patients one more day when he felt he couldn’t pretend anymore was just the tipping point.  Very sad.

It is thought that doctors have the highest suicide rate of any profession, 40 out of 100,00 doctors kill themselves yearly.

A book takes a long time to write, edit, and print.  I’m in my 5th year of writing “Please don’t die”.  I wonder how many more names will be added before it’s finished.

Life is painful, but if we don’t learn to tolerate the pain we also won’t realize the joy of it’s absence. Live today mindfully, and with appreciation for all that you have in this moment.

Suicide touches us all

Letter to the rest of the world from us 60% of Americans

Does anyone else feel we need to do this- publish this somewhere to offset the negative PR of our current POTUS?

Dear World,

We are wanting to connect with you from the majority (57%) of Americans that

  1.  We love our allies and love all your countries, the POTUS doesn’t speak for us
  2.  We are not racist or white supremacists as a country
  3. We care about feelings, ethics, morals, and behavior.
  4. We understand that words matter, and are horrified by our POTUS every day
  5.  We are a country of immigrants and value our ethnic differences and religious differences. We value family. We value children. We value and embrace diversity.
  6. Eventually enough people with character and class will again be running our country. Until then, please don’t abandon us.  Fruitcake does not speak for us.


Sincerely, most of the good people of the United States, who hope to be free of this tyranny and embarassment sometime soon, and understand it will take years to repair the destruction of this POTUS.

Letter to the rest of the world from us 60% of Americans

Wow – Scott Stabile

This is his Instagram link- give yourself the gift of checking him out!

Wow – Scott Stabile

Wonderful share from Dr Pam Wible- enjoy

“(Warning: I have a lifelong problem of “freaking people out” by sharing too much detail. Hang with me . . .)

When I was a little kid, I had this ritual with my dad. I’m pretty sure we were the only two people in the world that ever did this. It’s kinda weird and I’ve actually never told anyone the full version of what we did together cause I didn’t want to freak anyone out.

Man, now I’m crying just remembering this ritual. . .

Dad’s been gone nearly 4 years. Maybe I can’t stop thinking of him because Father’s Day was last Sunday, but whatever the reason, every time he crosses my mind, this is the memory I come back to time and time again. I’m certain it changed the entire destiny of my life.

So here goes. . .

Both my parents are physicians. Mom’s a psychiatrist, Dad’s a pathologist, a medical examiner. They weren’t home much because they (like most docs) were total workaholics!

With no childcare (babysitters kept quitting and that’s another story), Dad would take me to work at the morgue. The morgue was my favorite spot. It was like our secret clubhouse. Nobody ever bothered us there. No interruptions. It’s not like anybody really wants to go to the morgue ya know . . . except me and my dad. So to me, it’s the most peaceful place ever.

Here’s the ritual. . .

Every morning when we entered the morgue, Dad would open up the stainless-steel doors to the big cooler and he’d say, “Good morning! Is anyone home?” Then he’d prop me up and introduce me to everyone one by one (by the toe tags!). He’d literally announce, “Look! It’s Sally!”

And he’d be SO happy to meet her. Kinda like introducing me to a long lost relative.

Okay, let me back up and explain I was one of those really talkative kids that would wear all the adults out because I couldn’t shut up for a minute. I was WAY too much for most people. Too intense. Too needy? I’m still not sure.

But Sally could handle me. So Dad would leave me there to talk to HER. (Plus he got the break from me I’m sure he needed).

“Sally, how are things going for you?” I pause.

No answer.

So I answer for her.

In my eyes, Sally is a brave woman who has led a heroic life. And I make up a fantastically wild and amazing story about her life and all the beautiful things she got to see and do in the world and I’m VERY committed to my version of her life story.

[Granted this is a poor hospital in the inner city of Philadelphia—a city with the highest homicide rate in the USA at the time]

“She was probably a single mom who’s life was cut short by poverty, drugs, and violence,” Dad would try to explain.

But I’m relentless.

I keep telling him MY version of her life story (and I’m VERY persuasive).

Eventually, Dad would see there was no arguing with me, and would go along with my story.

What a great Dad. Right?

So that’s our special ritual.

That was it.

Just me, my dad, and one of his patients.

Every day when we went to the morgue. Different patient. Same kind of story.

Now as an adult and a doctor myself I realize I’ve spent my entire life seeing the heroic potential in all my patients, friends, and even my foster child. Not everyone lives up to their potential. I used to get sad about that. BUT that doesn’t mean I’m ever willing to let go of the beauty and courage—the heroic story I SEE in each person who crosses my path—even if they can’t see it in themselves.

My story of their heroic life—even if unlived—is still true to ME. I’m not willing to give it up.

I think this makes me a better doctor.

I’m exactly where I’m meant to be. I see it all so clearly now.

My dedication to celebrating the lives of doctors we’ve lost to suicide . . . how I refuse to let these beautiful souls just be covered with a tarp and thrown into a body bag without sending them off with a proper eulogy, flowers, and a celebration of their life and contributions to the world. Even if I have to write it myself. Even if I didn’t know them when they were alive. Someone has to write their heroic story. May as well be me. . . I’ve been preparing for this since I was a little girl.

As a child I enjoyed seeing the fantastically wild adventures in the lives of my dad’s patients in the morgue, but now, as an adult, I much prefer to help physicians LIVE out their wildest dreams while they are still breathing which is why I continue to lead “Live Your Dream” physician retreats . . .

So doctors can really be real healers—not just assembly-line factory workers. Everyone deserves to live their dreams.

The bottom line is I believe in your dreams even when you don’t believe in your own dreams.

I believe everyone’s a hero. (Some people just don’t know it yet).

Do you agree? I’d really love to know what you think.

Please leave your comment here.


~ Pamela

Wonderful share from Dr Pam Wible- enjoy

Real life with ADD

This morning I made my coffee and went to add my vanilla coconut milk creamer.  It had already been opened.  I swear, I just bought this monday and drank no coffee yesterday so I know   it’s been “tampered with” or returned to the store and accidently put on the shelf.  Some milk is also gone, besides the seal gone.  How does this relate to ADD? Because you’re never sure if you just forgot…

I drank it anyway. So if I should die or get deathly ill today, please register my final words as these:

“Sometimes you have to live dangerously to get good coffee”

PS my final act of kindness was rescuing a daddy longlegs out of my shower and releasing him safely outside.



Real life with ADD