Aubrey D Haynes

I had the best weekend with my parents.

As a late Mother’s Day celebration, we spent the weekend unpacking them into their new-to-them home — a little place on the lake that feels like a dream my dad has talked about since I was little.

I smiled all weekend.

I gave my dad a hard time, but helped eith all the projects I could.

I talked with my mom about decorating, Israel, childhood memories… and all the momentos we couldn't convince ourselves to let go of.

At one point, I made her sit through me scrolling the Louisiana Rural Health Clinic directory so we could figure out which nearby clinics were RHCs. Naturally, that turned into conversations about psoriasis, arthritis, and healthcare access.

Meanwhile, my dad and I spent time talking chicken business, profit margins, leadership styles, and building a dog kennel for Stormy while arguing over the “right” place to put it.

And somehow, even though it was a brand new place, it still felt like home.

I’m still smiling from this weekend.

Now it’s back to the work week.

I had the best weekend with my parents.

We spent the weekend unpacking them into their new home on the lake — something my dad has dreamed about since I was little.

I smiled all weekend long.

My dad and I spent most of the weekend picking on each other and spent some time building a dog kennel for Stormy and debating the “best” place to put it.

My mom and I talked about decorating, old memories, healthcare, and all the random things.

At one point, I made her sit through me scrolling the Louisiana Rural Health Clinic directory to figure out which nearby clinics were RHCs. That conversation quickly turned into talking about arthritis, psoriasis, and trying to find the right care close to home.

It was one of those weekends that just felt good for the soul.

And somehow, even though it was a brand new place, it still felt like home.

I’m still smiling heading into this work week.

Today I spent the day in a classroom with about 50 Arkansans focused on healthcare quality and improving patient outcomes.

This was my first Healthcare Quality conference, and I’m leaving with my thoughts racing a little.

I learned a lot about hospital quality measures and the work healthcare organizations are doing to improve care across Arkansas.

But as someone who works in rural healthcare, I kept thinking about our patients back home.

In rural communities, primary care often becomes so much more than a doctor’s appointment.

It’s the front line.
It’s the follow-up.
It’s helping patients navigate life after leaving the hospital.

When someone lives 45 minutes or more from a hospital or specialist, continuity of care matters in a completely different way.

So now I’m left asking:
How do clinics like ours maximize the value of transitions of care?
How do we help rural patients stay connected to care once they return home?

I don’t have all the answers yet, but I’m grateful for opportunities that challenge me to think bigger about healthcare in our communities.

Join me in Louisville!

The NARHC 2026 Fall Institute is more than education. It's 3️⃣ days with people who get it.

The connections. The conversations. The community. From our opening regiception through networking breaks, hands-on activities, and our social mixer — it's all designed to help you connect.

📅 Registration and Reception: September 28
📅 Conference Sessions: September 29 – October 1, 2026
📍 Louisville, Kentucky

Are you in? https://narhc26fallinst.vfairs.com

It was hard to get out of bed this morning.

Not because I didn’t want to work — but because I’m tired from a really good weekend spent with friends and family.

I wanted every extra minute under the covers before finally peeling myself out of bed, starting the coffee, and heading outside to check on my wildflowers… which honestly became my backup plan after I managed to kill three beds of vegetables last summer.

Now I’m here. Sun soaked into my skin before the workday even started.

And strangely enough, I’m excited.

Excited to review financials. Strategize for growth. Fight for better systems. Take care of our community.

People talk a lot about burnout in healthcare — and it’s real.

But there’s also something powerful about building a life where exhaustion comes from living fully, not just surviving work.

What does your Monday look like?

It was hard to get out of bed this morning.

Not because I didn’t want to work —
but because I’m tired from a really good weekend spent with friends and family.

I finally got up, started the coffee, and went outside to check on my wildflowers… which became my replacement hobby after I killed three vegetable gardens last summer.

Now I’m sitting here with sunshine on my skin, getting ready to review financials, plan for growth, and continue fighting for good healthcare in our community.

Some Mondays are exhausting.
Some are meaningful.
Most are both.

What does your Monday look like?

When I say advocacy, I don’t mean buzzwords or soundbites.

I mean communicating with my congressmen & showing up to DC when I can. (And finding doggos along the way)
I mean asking why rural communities are expected to do more with less—again.
I mean standing between complex systems and real people who just want care that works.

This space is for questions.
For honesty.
For rural voices that are too often treated as an afterthought.

Welcome to the conversation.

While government budgets are debated in conference rooms, rural clinics are doing the math in real time.

Can we keep this service line open?
Can we give raises this year?
Can we afford to lose one more nurse?

Rural health clinics aren’t just medical offices—they’re economic anchors, employers, and lifelines. When funding is uncertain, the impact ripples far beyond exam rooms.

Advocacy isn’t abstract.
It’s about whether care exists when someone needs it.

That’s why I do this work. That’s why I keep asking.

January is supposed to feel like a fresh start--
For many rural families, it starts with confusion.

New insurance cards.
New formularies.
New deductibles.

Same long drives. Same provider shortages. Same questions.

Rural healthcare doesn’t get a clean slate when the calendar flips. It carries forward the consequences of policy decisions, reimbursement models, and access gaps that were never designed with rural communities in mind.

This year, I’ll keep asking the uncomfortable questions—about who our systems serve, who they leave behind, and how we do better.
Because “new year, new you” doesn’t mean much if care still isn’t reachable.

Follow along for 2026!