When I was a kid, I found a Red Cross First Aid book in Granny's dresser, where she would let me play with her jewelry, etc. I asked to keep the book and she let me take it home. I took it to school and showed my friends what to do if you had a laceration or an abrasion. I felt very prepared for an emergency. Mind you, I wasn't the kid who cut her Barbies' hair... I was the one who gave all mine smallpox shots, so they had big blue "scars" on their arms. I also loved going to my aunt's apartment, because she had a health textbook that was so interesting! Another aunt had a subscription to Health magazine (or something like it) - I was a good reader so I really got into the scholarly articles.
Still, I didn't know I would get into healthcare until I was old enough to drive and got a part-time job at the local drugstore. That seemed right up my alley. I thought I wanted to be a pharmacist. God had other plans for me (and I am thankful that he did). I ended up becoming a nuclear medicine technologist. That provided me with a good living until one day it didn't. Then I became a health science teacher, because I believed healthcare is still a good field to get into. Later I got a chance to go back to nuclear medicine on an "as-needed" basis, which got my foot in the door. I could still substitute, and I teach CPR so that helps fill in the money gaps, but then a friend from school told me about the Arbonne opportunity.
back to PVCPR page
copyright 2015, Marisa Harris Bush