I lead the way I believe, trusting that God works through ordinary people in messy places to do meaningful things. Leadership didn’t wait for a title, it met me in the mess, where problems piled high and voices went unheard. In those moments, it was my faith that steadied me. The ED had reached its breaking point. For weeks, over 70 patients crowded our waiting room, air thick with tension and frustration. Of our 100 beds, 70 were occupied by boarding patients. With the hospital at capacity, we’re gridlocked. Ambulance sirens blended with cries of pain and sharp voices of those angered by 12-hour wait times, generating constant uproar that mirrored the disorder. In the midst of this turmoil, tragedy struck…a waiting room patient, unnoticed in the sea of patients, died before they could receive care. It was a devastating time that laid bare the fractures in our healthcare system. Despite our teams dedication, we failed. I was devastated. How could this happen? What could we even do to fix this? My belief in a God of compassion, and restoration has always called me to step in where others step back, to listen where others dismiss, and to build where others see only brokenness. During the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, my hospital faced unprecedented patient surges that was dangerous and deadly. Executive meetings were called to manage our capacity crises, but nurses were excluded from the table. As department chair, I asked to join the leadership forces and was told plainly: this isn’t a space for bedside staff. That “no” stung, but God was telling me to be patient. I believe in a God who elevates the overlooked and uses the unlikely, I knew the insights of frontline staff mattered! I felt that when this door closed, God opened another and it was to be through nursing impact alone. I led a nursing-driven initiative to standardize triage and workflows for respiratory illness patients. The results: reduced emergency department length of stay by up to three hours and improved patient safety. This proved what faith had already shown me: that value is not dictated by title, and transformation begins when we lead with trust in something greater than ourselves. That same belief continued to guide me as I confronted another challenge—rising new nurse turnover. I didn’t have all the answers, but I knew that love listens. So I began with open conversations, allowing new nurses to voice their pain, burnout, and disconnection. Moved by their stories and grounded in the belief that healing starts with presence, I prayed for opportunity and was invited to join a new retention opportunity! I joined the Johnson & Johnson Innovation Fellowship and helped develop a low-cost, nursing-designed app that offers real-time support, coaching, and shift satisfaction tracking. It wasn’t just about solving a problem, it was about reminding people they’re seen, heard, and not alone. My faith doesn’t make leadership easy, but it makes it meaningful. It reminds me that every “no” is an invitation to lean deeper into purpose. That real change doesn’t come from power or position, but from perseverance, prayer, and people willing to believe in a better way. My vision for the future is shaped by this: a healthcare system where leaders reflect the heart of a servant, where frontline voices rise, and where transformation flows from faith in action

The opioid epidemic has devastated countless lives, families, and communities across the world. As a nurse who has worked in various emergency settings, I’ve seen firsthand the heartbreaking toll addiction takes…not only on our patients, but to people who care for them. This crisis isn’t just a headline or a policy issue, for me it’s deeply personal. I wish my story was one of redemption, how someone overcame addiction, how leadership rallied around a colleague and friend, how recovery and grace triumphed. But that’s not the story. I lost a dear friend and peer, Chuck, to the opioid epidemic. He was an emergency nurse for over two decades and taught nurses what it meant to provide exceptional, compassionate care. He was a mentor, a fierce advocate for patients, and a pillar of strength in the department. Despite all that, Chuck found himself trapped in addiction…isolated, misunderstood, and ultimately unsupported. Chuck became addicted to opioids, specifically diverting propofol, a medication we used for sedation. It was a silent battle he fought alone, without the understanding, intervention, or grace he so desperately needed. His decline was not met with support from leadership or colleagues. Despite everything he had given to his patients and peers, he was let go without meaningful intervention. There was no offer of help, no structured path toward recovery—just a closed door. He did not overcome his addiction, and he ultimately lost his life to it. Chuck’s story haunts me—but it also drives me. It has become the fuel behind my passion for healthcare leadership and my unwavering commitment to advocating for those struggling with addiction, especially within the healthcare profession. His experience highlighted the ways in which our current systems fail those in crisis, particularly our own colleagues. It revealed a critical need for leadership rooted in empathy, compassion, and accountability. Throughout my nursing career, I’ve worked in emergency departments, ER ICUs, and now the pediatric ICU. In each setting, I’ve encountered individuals—both patients and staff—facing not only medical crises, but systemic barriers to care, compounded by stigma. Addiction does not discriminate, and yet the way we treat people with substance use disorders often does. This reality has only deepened my commitment to become the kind of nurse leader who meets these moments with understanding and action. Leadership must go beyond policy. It must go beyond annual online modules or vague language about wellness. It must mean showing up—for patients, for staff, and for those silently struggling. It means building an environment where grace is given freely, where people are encouraged to seek help without fear, and where recovery is not only possible but actively supported. Recent research into the opioid epidemic underscores how much we can—and must—do better. Normalizing conversations around addiction, increasing access to life-saving resources like Narcan, and removing barriers to treatment are all essential steps. Creative, evidence-based solutions—such as placing Narcan in vending machines or ensuring its availability in all emergency settings—have the potential to save countless lives. As a future nurse leader, I will champion these solutions and work to build a culture where safety, dignity, and healing are prioritized. I want to be a leader who listens. Who responds with grace. Who sees beyond the symptoms and into the heart of the person. I want to create space where colleagues feel safe to speak up, where patients receive equitable care, and where systemic change is driven by compassion. The opioid crisis is complex, and the work ahead is daunting. But one thing remains clear: real change begins with courageous leadership. And I’m ready to be part of that change.

The opioid epidemic has devastated countless lives, families, and communities across the world. As a nurse who has worked in various emergency settings, I’ve seen firsthand the heartbreaking toll addiction takes, not only on patients, but on people who care for them. This crisis isn’t just a headline or a policy issue, to me it’s deeply personal. I wish my story was one of redemption, how someone overcame addiction, how we rallied around a colleague and friend, how recovery and grace triumphed. But that’s not the story I have to tell. I lost a dear friend and colleague, Chuck, to the opioid epidemic. He was an emergency nurse for over two decades and taught nurses what it meant to provide exceptional, compassionate care. He was a mentor, fierce advocate for patients, and a pillar of strength in the department. Despite all that, Chuck found himself trapped in addiction—isolated, misunderstood, and ultimately unsupported. Chuck became addicted to opioids, specifically diverting propofol, a medication we used for sedation. It was a silent battle he fought alone, without the understanding, intervention, or grace he so desperately needed. His decline was not met with support from leadership or colleagues. Despite everything he had given to his patients and peers, he was let go without meaningful intervention. There was no offer of help, no structured path toward recovery…just a closed door. He did not overcome his addiction, and he ultimately lost his life to it. Chuck’s story haunts me but it also drives me. It has become the fuel behind my passion for healthcare leadership and my unwavering commitment to advocating for those struggling with addiction, especially within the healthcare profession. His experience highlighted the ways in which our current systems fail those in crisis, particularly our own colleagues. It revealed a critical need for leadership rooted in empathy, compassion, and accountability. Throughout my nursing career, I’ve worked in emergency departments, ER ICUs, and now the pediatric ICU. In each setting, I’ve encountered individuals, both patients and staff, facing not only medical crises, but systemic barriers to care, compounded by stigma. Addiction does not discriminate, and yet the way we treat people with substance use disorders often does! This reality has deepened my commitment to become the kind of nurse leader who meets these moments with understanding and action. Leadership must go beyond policy. It must go beyond annual online modules or vague language about wellness. It means showing up, for patients, staff, and those silently struggling. It means building an environment where grace is given freely, where people are encouraged to seek help without fear, and where recovery is not only possible but actively supported. Recent research into the opioid epidemic underscores how much we can—and must—do better. Normalizing conversations around addiction, increasing access to life-saving resources like Narcan, and removing barriers to treatment are all essential steps. Creative, evidence-based solutions—such as placing Narcan in vending machines or ensuring its availability in all emergency settings—have the potential to save countless lives. As a future nurse leader, I will champion these solutions and work to build a culture where safety, dignity, and healing are prioritized. I want to be a leader who listens. Who responds with grace. Who sees beyond the symptoms and into the heart of the person. I want to create space where colleagues feel safe to speak up, where patients receive equitable care, and where systemic change is driven by compassion. The opioid crisis is complex, and the work ahead is daunting. But one thing remains clear: real change begins with courageous leadership. And I’m ready to be part of that change.

Sabrina Carpenter didn’t just give us pop anthems…she gave me a blueprint for how to survive (and thrive) in scrubs and stilettos! Because she’s more than a pop star, she’s a force of nature. Her career is a testament to the power of reinvention, resilience, and refusing to be boxed in. As a nurse with aspirations in leadership, I find deep inspiration in the way she navigates challenges with wit, strength, and unwavering self-belief. In nursing, especially as a woman trying to move into leadership, you hear the word “no” a lot. No, we don’t have the funds. No, that space isn’t for nurses. No, that change is too big. It’s a system built on gatekeeping, whether intentional or institutional, and it’s easy to feel like you have to shrink yourself to fit in. But Sabrina reminds me that it’s not only okay to take up space…it’s necessary. She turns every “no” into a louder, more powerful “yes” to herself. Listening to “because i liked a boy” or “feather,” I hear an artist who refuses to let others define her. That same energy fuels me when I advocate for patients in the ICU or push back against outdated practices. It reminds me that softness is not weakness, and strength doesn’t have to look like aggression, it can look like compassion with backbone. Like Sabrina, I’ve had to challenge norms, prove myself, and stay grounded in who I am, even when the world had other expectations. Sabrina’s lyrics have often felt like a mirror held up to the complex emotional labor nurses carry. “I’m so sorry for your loss” and “But maybe I’ll feel it tomorrow” from “already over” echoes the compartmentalization required in healthcare - being present, being composed, while carrying grief and resilience in equal measure. And yet, she also reminds me to keep joy and levity in the room. Humor and artistry have a place, even in high-stakes environments. That balance of depth and lightness is what makes her work, and nursing: so powerful. Her fearlessness to evolve creatively is another major influence. Sabrina didn’t let herself be boxed into “former Disney star.” She fought for creative control, shifted her sound, and rewrote her narrative. Similarly, in healthcare, we’re often told to stay in our lane. But like her, I believe growth comes when we challenge those boundaries. I want to lead with that mindset….pushing for safer systems, more compassionate care, and a culture that embraces change rather than fears it. The way she reclaims space, tells the truth with sharp lyricism, and brings people together through honesty, that’s the kind of leadership I strive for. Sabrina Carpenter has impacted me not just as a fan, but as a professional. She reminds me that being underestimated is not a weakness but it’s an opportunity to surprise people. She makes me want to take risks, speak louder, and show up fully, even when the system tells you to shrink. Especially then. So yes, I’m a proud Sabrina Carpenter fan. She’s got the range, the resilience, and the rhinestoned revenge dress energy I carry into every shift. If I could bottle her boldness and clip it to my hospital badge, I would. Until then, I’ll keep channeling her! One lyric, one leadership challenge, and one patient at a time.

The ED was at its breaking point. For weeks, over 70 patients crowded our waiting room, air thick with tension and frustration. Of our 100 beds, over 60 were occupied by boarding patients. With the hospital at capacity, we were gridlocked. Ambulance sirens blended with cries of pain and sharp voices of those angered by 12-hour wait times, generating constant uproar that mirrored the disorder. In the midst of this turmoil, tragedy struck— a waiting room patient, unnoticed in the sea of patients, died before they could receive care. It was a devastating time that laid bare the fractures in our healthcare system. Despite its dedication and expertise, failed our patients, nurses and providers. As a nurse of almost seven years, I have beared witness to many challenging times, I have first hand seen the impact of strong leadership and consequences of ineffective decision making. That moment made it clear, I needed to take bigger action. Having already contributed to various committees and projects aimed at improving the emergency department, I’ve reached the limits of my bedside role. It’s time for me to grow so I can make a more meaningful impact. My passion lies in pursuing nursing leadership to build a stronger and more supportive environment for us nurses. I plan to advance my education to enhance my ability to support both nurses, patients and become a strong leader. It is my dream to help emergency departments become environments where patients and staff can thrive, despite these difficult patient volumes and hard times. What I don’t know, is how institutions work on a large systems scale. The gap in my knowledge lies in understanding how to navigate fiscal constraints while ensuring positive patient outcomes and supporting nursing excellence. I want to learn ways to harness complex systems issues, leverage analytical data, and utilize evidence-based practices to drive decision-making at an institutional level. Participating in this program will address these gaps by providing a structured, comprehensive approach to healthcare management and leadership. This degree will expand my knowledge of how to work within a complex healthcare system, balancing financial and operational challenges with the imperative to provide quality care.With the MSN, I will be better positioned to advocate for us nurses, the patients we serve, and systemic changes. Ultimately, I can become a leader who not only understands the intricacies of healthcare delivery but can also drive positive change for both patients and our nursing profession. Having had the privilege of working with many phenomenal nurses, I’ve seen the immense value in sharing knowledge, recognizing diverse identities, and helping others grow professionally. In the future, I hope to become a resource for less experienced nurses just as many senior nurses have been to me. My calling is beyond the bedside and I’m here to answer to support us nurses and our patients. I want to be a leader who can guide healthcare organizations to prioritize the quality of care and the well-being of their teams. I am excited to continue my education and make lasting impacts on the nursing community, the patients we serve, and our future.

The emergency department had reached its breaking point. For weeks, over 70 patients crowded the waiting room daily. The air buzzed with tension—cries of pain, frustrated voices, and ambulance sirens created a constant backdrop of chaos. Of our 100 beds, 70 were occupied by boarding patients, while countless others waited in desperation. The hospital was gridlocked. Then, the unimaginable happened: a patient, lost in the overwhelming tide of need, died in the waiting room before ever receiving care. That moment shook me. It laid bare the critical fractures in our healthcare system—failures in resource allocation, staffing, and most painfully, leadership. Despite the skill, compassion, and sheer will of the nurses and physicians working in impossible conditions, the system failed. That tragedy highlighted something I’ve come to know with deep clarity: strong, proactive leadership in pediatric healthcare isn’t optional—it’s essential. And I want to be a part of building it. My name is Amber Prong, and I am pursuing a master’s degree in nursing leadership with the goal of serving in a pediatric hospital. While I’ve been fortunate to work in emergency and critical care settings, the most profound inspiration for my path came long before I ever put on scrubs. When I was 17, my best friend died of cancer. I watched her fight a battle that no child should have to face. But it was also in those long, emotional hospital days that I saw the incredible power of pediatric care. Nurses weren’t just caregivers—they were protectors, advocates, and sometimes the only source of comfort in the hardest moments. That experience lit the fire that made me become a nurse. Now, after seven years in the field, I’ve reached a ceiling in my current position. I’ve contributed to unit-based initiatives, mentored peers, and led internal projects—but the challenges we face in pediatric care are growing larger, more complex, and more urgent. Our teams are pushed to their limits. Our systems are strained. Budget cuts and staffing shortages are compromising care. In the face of these crises, it’s clear to me that we don’t just need more nurses—we need leaders who can think innovatively, act decisively, and care deeply. I want to be one of them. Through my graduate studies, I aim to harness human-centered design and emerging technologies to drive real solutions for pediatric teams. I want to help build a system where nurses are empowered, not exhausted. Where leadership is anticipatory, not reactive. Where children receive exceptional care, not just because we’re passionate, but because we’ve built the systems and structures that support excellence. What continues to inspire me is the resilience of healthcare providers. During the pandemic, I watched my team step into danger without hesitation, simply saying, “I will serve.” That mindset—of selfless dedication—is why I am fiercely committed to fighting for pediatric nurses. I want to advocate for their well-being just as they advocate for their patients, ensuring they have the support, recognition, and resources they deserve. My ultimate goal is to lead initiatives that prioritize both patient outcomes and provider wellness. I want to close the gap between burnout and sustainability, between policy and bedside reality. I envision a future where pediatric nurses feel valued, where innovation drives care, and where no child—or caregiver—is left behind. I’m ready to be part of shaping that future. The actions we take today will define the care our communities receive tomorrow. I want to be a leader who doesn’t just adapt to the future of pediatric healthcare—but helps build it.

Imagine a future where the care you or your loved ones need is just… out of reach. What happens when you bring your partner, your parent, or your child to a hospital, only to find there aren’t enough nurses or physicians to care for them? What happens when the system, stretched to its breaking point, can no longer respond? This isn’t a distant nightmare—it’s the reality we face tomorrow if we don’t act today. I’ve seen firsthand what happens when healthcare professionals are overwhelmed, unsupported, and burned out. The truth is, we cannot give our best to patients when the system gives so little to those on the front lines. My name is Amber Prong, and I want to build something that lasts. Not a product—but a future. I want to build resilient, empowered, and supported healthcare teams, because when healthcare teams thrive, patients do too. The statistics are daunting: by the end of 2025, the U.S. is projected to face a deficit of 450,000 nurses. Nearly 40% of nurses hired will leave the profession due to burnout each year. Physician burnout is climbing at a similar rate. Meanwhile, we’re seeing massive cuts—billions pulled from Medicaid and public health funding. This affects every single one of us. But even in this uncertainty, I see opportunity. I’m pursuing my master’s in nursing leadership with one clear mission: to support those who support others. I want to build solutions that help us navigate cultural, political, and technological shifts in healthcare. I want to be the kind of leader who bridges the gap between policy and practice, between administration and bedside care, between burnout and sustainability. My goal is to design environments where healthcare workers are not just surviving their shifts, but feeling empowered to grow, innovate, and heal—both their patients and themselves. I want to build programs that directly address mental health, mentorship, and equity. I want to ensure underrepresented communities aren’t left behind. I want to ensure no nurse or physician feels like Chuck—my mentor, my friend—who died from addiction, alone and unsupported by a system that should have caught him. I believe that the future of healthcare isn’t just something we inherit, it’s something we create. The time for growth is now. And I’m here to build that future, one leader, one team, and one act of grace at a time.

The ED had reached its breaking point. For weeks, over 70 patients crowded our waiting room, air thick with tension and frustration. Of our 100 beds, 70 were occupied by boarding patients. With the hospital at capacity, we’re gridlocked. Ambulance sirens blended with cries of pain and sharp voices of those angered by 12-hour wait times, generating constant uproar that mirrored the disorder. In the midst of this turmoil, tragedy struck…a waiting room patient, unnoticed in the sea of patients, died before they could receive care. It was a devastating time that laid bare the fractures in our healthcare system. Despite its dedication and expertise, it failed our patients and the healthcare team. These challenging times illuminated the profound impact of strong leadership and dire consequences of ineffective decision making. Our lack of proactive decision-making forced us into a reactive stance, struggling against budget cuts and overwhelming patient census. The failure to anticipate and address capacity burdens early highlights the critical need for foresight, adaptability, and decisive leadership. Despite being involved in a multitude of leadership roles, unit projects and collaborations, I’ve reached a ceiling in my ability to grow and make meaningful impacts in my current position. I’m eager to enhance my leadership skills and deepen my understanding of solutions for the challenges healthcare systems face. My graduate program is the bridge to helping me learn how to navigate these challenges and be an expert in building solutions. Amidst the significant challenges my profession has faced, I witnessed firsthand the extraordinary resilience of healthcare providers who, despite the overwhelming risks, show up day after day. In the pandemic, they willingly confronted an illness that could threaten their own lives, never questioning the demands placed upon them. Instead, they simply said, “I will serve” and continue to say it everyday. This unwavering dedication my teams show deeply inspires me, and fuels my passion to advocate for them and ensure they receive the support and recognition they deserve, just as we strive to provide exceptional care for our patients. Healthcare is rapidly evolving and the demands are escalating. I'm ready to be part of shaping its future. Through my graduate studies, I aim to utilize human-centered design and emerging technologies to better support healthcare staff and improve patient outcomes. I want to ensure healthcare teams are equipped with the resources, tools, and institutional backing needed to excel in their practice. After completing my program, I envision leading initiatives that prioritize both the quality of patient care and the well-being of healthcare professionals. By advocating for innovative solutions and systemic changes, I aspire to create environments where teams feel empowered, valued, and prepared to meet the evolving challenges of our profession. I am eager to embrace this next chapter, gaining the knowledge and leadership skills necessary to drive meaningful, lasting impacts on the nursing community, the patients we serve, and our future. I want to be a leader who is part of the changes today that will shape your healthcare experience tomorrow.

Mental illness has been a thread in the fabric of my family story for generations. Both of my parents came from broken homes—homes where mental illness, molestation, and schizophrenia tore the family apart, leaving scars that still ripple through. Love in my family wasn’t always safe or secure, and support wasn’t always available. Because of that, I’ve come to redefine what “family” means. Today, I lean into those I work beside—my coworkers, my team, my chosen family. I wish my story was about someone who overcame mental illness, about how we all came together to support a friend, how he received the help and forgiveness he needed—but it’s not. The mental health crisis is not an abstract idea for me; it’s painfully personal. I lost someone I considered an uncle, and a beloved coworker—Chuck—to suicide. Chuck was an emergency nurse for over 20 years. He trained and mentored hundreds of new nurses, setting the tone for what compassionate, above-and-beyond care looked like. He was the nurse who would light up a room, who’d fight for his patients, and who was loved deeply by his team. But behind his big heart and quick smile, Chuck was struggling. He became depressed, overwhelmed, and eventually turned to opioids to cope with depression. Despite being the one who always supported others, he received so little in return from a system that should’ve had his back. Chuck began doing the unthinkable as a nurse, diverting medications—propofol and morphine—from our department. It was shocking. Nurses don’t do that. Except, they do, when they’re silently suffering. Chuck was caught and taken out in handcuffs by the police. There was no intervention, no offer of support or treatment from leadership. The hospital he gave decades to had no safety net for him. He was let go. And shortly after, he died from an overdose. His story broke us. It shook our department and opened our eyes to the brutal truth: we failed him. The system failed him. There was no grace, no space to ask for help without fear of punishment. That failure now fuels my drive to make change. As a nurse, I’ve worked in emergency departments, ER ICUs, and now the pediatric ICU. I’ve done CPR on people overdosing from fentanyl, given Narcan to a baby, and sat with families begging for help. I’ve seen how unequally mental health and addiction resources are distributed. Whether you’re a patient or a staff member, the stigma walks in with you. There’s no equity in access, and there’s even less compassion when the struggle is invisible. As I pursue my master’s in nursing leadership, I am determined to become a nurse leader who shows up differently. I want to create systems where addiction is not punished, but treated. Where conversations about mental health are normalized. Where staff feel safe to share their struggles without fear of losing everything. I want to lead with empathy, to build programs that offer real support, and to ensure that no one—nurse or patient—has to suffer alone. Chuck’s story reminds me that leadership must be rooted in grace. Not just policy, not just performance metrics, but in real human connection. We can’t just check boxes with online modules and think that’s enough. It’s not. We must do better. In my future as a nurse leader, I will advocate fiercely for systemic change that addresses mental illness and addiction with compassion and action. I will carry Chuck’s memory with me as both a warning and a call to action. He gave everything to care for others. It’s time we build a system that cares back.

They painted her green, called her wicked, and still…she rose. That’s what hooked me. That’s what cracked open my chest and touched my heart. Elphaba, the so-called Wicked Witch of the West wasn’t just a character in a glittering musical. She was a revelation. A rebellion! A reminder that you don’t need to fit in to stand tall. And as a nurse, especially in the kind of wild, beautiful, brutal work I do, I’ve never needed that reminder more. From the first note of Wicked, I was a goner. Initially despising musicals, there’s something undeniably intoxicating about watching a leader flawed, fierce, and glowing green fight to lead with integrity in a world that doesn’t understand her. I remember sitting there in the movie theatre….breath held, feeling like someone had finally mirrored the weird, stubborn fire I carry into the hospital hallway. Elphaba doesn’t just defy gravity, she defies expectation, tradition, silence. That is what nurses do. That is what I do. Nursing isn’t a quiet profession. It’s often portrayed as gentle, compassionate—and don’t get me wrong it is—but there’s another layer to it. The part that doesn’t get turned into greeting cards. The part where we fight for patients who can’t speak for themselves, push back on systems that fail them, and make impossible decisions with impossible grace. I’ve had moments in my career where I’ve been the only one willing to say, “This isn’t right.” The only one pushing for a different path, a different treatment, more resources from leadership, a second look. It’s lonely sometimes, to go against the grain. But it’s necessary. Just like Elphaba, I’ve felt what it’s like to be misunderstood in the name of doing what’s right. I’ve seen the discomfort in a room when I’ve challenged the status quo. And yet, every single time, I’ve learned that the harder choice is often the truer one. That bravery is not the absence of fear, it’s dancing with it. Elphaba doesn’t want to be a hero. She just refuses to be silent. And that… that has shaped the way I walk through my own life. One of the things I love most about Wicked is how it takes fantasy and cracks it open to reveal real, raw truth. Elphaba’s world is filled with magic and mystery, but her struggle is human. She wants to be seen. She wants to do good. She wants to love and be loved without conditions. Who doesn’t? She shows us that power doesn’t have to come from a wand but can come from principle. From heart. From standing alone, if that’s what it takes. And isn’t that the challenge we all face, in our own way? Whether in scrubs or spellbooks, we’re all asked at some point to choose between comfort and conviction. I’ve chosen conviction. And every time I do, I hear Elphaba’s voice echoing through the back of my mind, sharp and steady: “No good deed goes unpunished.” But still, she does the good deed. So do I. Being a fan of Wicked isn’t just about loving a show. It’s about believing in what it stands for: the power of defiance, the beauty of difference, and the magic of forging your own way…even when the hospital system is watching with narrowed eyes. Elphaba may live in Oz, but her courage lives in me. And no one, not gravity, not expectation, not fear, is going to bring that down.