For as long as I can remember, I thought I was meant to be a nurse.

But when it came time to apply for school, I realized I couldn’t stand the idea of needles going into me. Weird, right? So, I pivoted. Business school seemed like the logical next step—no needles involved—but I had no clue what I’d do with a business degree. After a short stint that included failed economics and algebra classes (and more parties than I care to admit), I returned home to regroup. That’s when it hit me: my desire to care for others had never left. I enrolled in a three-year diploma program, and in 1996, graduated with the final class from that school’s hands-on, clinically intense training. From there, I began my nursing career in a cardiac step-down/med-surg unit and later expanded my experience to outpatient dialysis, an orthopedic surgeon’s office, and oral surgery. I returned to acute care weekends while raising my kids—and loved it. I was good at it. Educating patients and families became my favorite part of the job.

In 2012, I stepped into a leadership role as an Assistant Director of a medical-surgical unit. It was an exciting challenge, but over time, I began to feel a growing disconnect. The patients were getting sicker, the medication lists were getting longer, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something deeper was contributing to the rise in chronic illness. I didn’t know exactly what that “something” was, but I knew I wanted to shift from treating symptoms to helping people get truly well. In 2019, I transitioned into school nursing so I could be more present for my two middle school boys—one of whom has a severe intellectual disability. While subbing in local schools, I was struck by how many children were living with asthma, diabetes, and food allergies. These weren’t the kinds of conditions I remembered from childhood. I couldn’t help but ask: what’s changed?