{"id":1685,"date":"2021-08-01T17:08:00","date_gmt":"2021-08-01T17:08:00","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/gutenberg.wpmasters.org\/visuality\/why-the-tourism-industry-shouldn%e2%80%99t-go-back-to-normal"},"modified":"2021-08-04T19:38:52","modified_gmt":"2021-08-04T19:38:52","slug":"time-magazine-amy-osullivan","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/nurseamyosullivan.com\/time-magazine-amy-osullivan\/","title":{"rendered":"Time Magazine honors Amy O’Sullivan"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

“Amy is just one of the millions of health care workers worldwide who risked everything to serve others<\/a>. Many moved into hotels, spare bedrooms, even garages at the height of the pandemic to protect their families. From doctors to janitors, the entire ecosystem that keeps a hospital functioning became a new kind of ground zero, their exhausted eyes conveying competence and compassion. There are two simple words for their heroism<\/a>: Thank you.” <\/p>\n\n\n\n

by Katie Couric<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

By this time she had found her way into a tidy little room with a table in the window, and on it (as she had hoped) a fan and two or three pairs of tiny white kid gloves: she took up the fan and a pair of the gloves, and was just going to leave the room, when her eye fell upon a little bottle that stood near the looking-glass. There was no label this time with the words ‘DRINK ME,’ but nevertheless she uncorked it and put it to her lips. ‘I know SOMETHING interesting is sure to happen,’ she said to herself, ‘whenever I eat or drink anything; so I’ll just see what this bottle does. I do hope it’ll make me grow large again, for really I’m quite tired of being such a tiny little thing!’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It did so indeed, and much sooner than she had expected: before she had drunk half the bottle, she found her head pressing against the ceiling, and had to stoop to save her neck from being broken. She hastily put down the bottle, saying to herself ‘That’s quite enough\u2014I hope I shan’t grow any more\u2014As it is, I can’t get out at the door\u2014I do wish I hadn’t drunk quite so much!’<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

By this time she had found her way into a tidy little room with a table in the window, and on it (as she had hoped) a fan and two or three pairs of tiny white kid gloves: she took up the fan and a pair of the gloves, and was just going to leave the room, when her eye fell upon a little bottle that stood near the looking-glass. There was no label this time with the words ‘DRINK ME,’ but nevertheless she uncorked it and put it to her lips. ‘I know SOMETHING interesting is sure to happen,’ she said to herself, ‘whenever I eat or drink anything; so I’ll just see what this bottle does. I do hope it’ll make me grow large again, for really I’m quite tired of being such a tiny little thing!’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Alas! it was too late to wish that! She went on growing, and growing, and very soon had to kneel down on the floor: in another minute there was not even room for this, and she tried the effect of lying down with one elbow against the door, and the other arm curled round her head. Still she went on growing, and, as a last resource, she put one arm out of the window, and one foot up the chimney, and said to herself ‘Now I can do no more, whatever happens. What WILL become of me?’<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n