December 30, 2014

Nursing is a contact sport. Don't let anyone fool you..it's not all about holding sweet old lady's hands and swaddling new born babies. And by contact, I mean CONTACT. Blood, sweat and tears are the easy things. Aggression, fear, confusion, medical futility, and personal failure. Oh, and poop. Did I mention the poop? 12 hours of being a nurse, in my experience, is like doing Improv. One room needs a Drill Sargent, the next room would prefer a French Maid. One room can't keep their blood pressure up and the other room has projectile fluids coming out at an every 2 minute interval. There is no way to apologize enough to the 45 year old man, who had to lay in his own liquid feces, because there was no one to answer his call. To say to him, that you were in the other room withdrawing life support on a patient and could not get away does nothing for anyone. Well, that's not true.. it makes him "unsatisfied" with his care. The family of the dying patient next door? In what way could that experience EVER be satisfying. So on a day like this, my corporate sponsorship would say I failed at our mission of customer satisfaction. That is the least of my worries. Maybe you are saying to yourself that there are OTHER nurses that could have helped, or that it can't be possible that there was NO ONE else around. Well, there were. They were taking a lunch break. Some so tired they lay down in a recliner in hopes of getting a little disco nap. Some rush through lunch knowing they can't be gone long because it just isn't fair to those "left behind" and some relish each and every second of their break trying to figure out of all the personalities they have had to use that day which one has left the most residue on them. It boils down to emotions- some days it's weary, or heartbroken. Some days it's angry and annoyed at the completely unrealistic expectations that someone is holding of you. Ironically, on that day it is a double edged sword. A nurse will grind their teeth through their shift and mentally destroy themselves on the way home for not being "better". For me, this year, there were more times than I would like to admit that I drove home just hateful. At who?? The sick and the dying? No. The families? No. The co-workers? No. Big business? Maybe a little or some days a lot. 
For me it was a self-destructive hate of my incompetence. Why couldn't I do better? I should have done more. I hate myself for not caring anymore whether my patient lives or dies. Which, for me, turned into, I just can't do it anymore. I no longer cared about leaving the family of a dying patient to go fetch more water for the self-titled royalty in the other room. I was invisible. I felt nothing but apathy. I hated who I had become. I woke up exhausted and went to sleep too tired to rest. Every shift there were little things that needed to be done, things that ten years ago weren't even a blip on the radar. Most of the time I think that I always do what I can, so this time, I'm going to leave it for someone else. Why bother? My apathy about changing a perfectly good central line dressing changed to apathy about what to eat, then about what to do. Why bother? It doesn't make a difference. No one will even notice. I became invisible even to myself.
Suicide is an enigma to me. On one hand, I just want relief from the horrific lifelessness. On the other hand, I don't want my suicide to add trauma to anyone else's life or for heaven's sake hurt anyone else. Believe it or not, I would want my family to think that I died peacefully. I would not leave a note. I would be found listening to Frank Sinatra's "My Way". ...the record shows, I took the blows and did it my way.
The ability to hold on to the very smallest shred of light is a mystery to me. Convincing myself time after time that if I just went to work I would be busy and distracted. I can't cry in a patient's room so just the physical location of work would make it better. Until you're on the bathroom floor in an empty patient's room, in tears hating yourself for being there, again. Hating yourself for being weak. Your inner voice demanding to get it together! Hating myself for letting down my co-workers. Hating myself because I knew what was coming next. But...and here is the enigma, not giving a shit. I don't care has no truer meaning than at that moment. I do not care. That's the waiting room to hell.
This is not job burn out. This is loss of a love you once had for a profession you were proud to be a part of. Loss of the essence of who you have been for the last 20 years, if you count school.
I beg of you to not keep pushing away your signs of burn out. To care more about your health, your family, your happiness than anything your corporate sponsorship can offer you. I can tell you this for sure, the 1% raise ($0.32) was no way close to being worth it. Protect your love of life, family, and passion...it will always serve you better in the end.

May your New Year be Merry and Bright-
Brooke

June 10, 2014

September 22, 2072- The obituary of Brooke Diane Albertson, 96, beloved author, philanthropist, and winner of the Noble Peace Prize, died peacefully at her estate in Southern Indiana. She proceeds in death her Nephew Treyton Baker and Niece Teagan Ann Kennedy (Ash)- and their children and grand-children who were with her on her last days. She is best known for her humorous and insightful memoirs that she published throughout her 40's, as well as her role in the development of the current healthcare system in the United States. It was her interest in ethical healthcare that led her to co-write legislation requiring that every citizen over the age of 35 had to declare their personal resuscitation preference in the event of their death.
Ms. Albertson was married twice in her life, both ending in divorce. She has no children. Over the decades she was linked with several high profile men, including President Smith, the first single man ever to be elected President. The two met on his insistence after seeing her acceptance speech for the Noble Peace Prize in 2028. That speech continues to be broadcast at commencement ceremonies at Universities around the US.
Brooke remained America's "girl next door" even in the lime light of her success. Her estate in Indiana, as well as her Italian villa will be donated to the respective cities to be used as Centers of Inquiry for Young Women- a program that helps women learn how to cultivate their dreams and wishes into reality.
She will be cremated and her ashes spread off the dock at her lakeside home in Indiana, where she spent many hours entertaining guests, writing, and living her dream come true.

so there!
:-)

May 26, 2014

I have had the unusual pleasure of getting to know an attractive man, very well traveled, with a beautiful girlfriend, who has such an interesting take on life that I walked for hours today thinking about it. He has opted to not believe in love and marriage, or raising a family, but instead has chosen to, simply put, be happy. At first blush, one might say..no shit Sherlock, but the reality is far more exciting to me. How does one "be happy"? He defines it as fulfilled, not needing anything. He has apparently thought about this, and has enough self awareness to know that those are his terms and they suit him perfectly. His path in life has helped shape his experience of happiness and fulfillment and I think that just contemplating a happy life long enough to come up with your own definition is pretty remarkable this day and age. 
Happy. It's such a peppy word. On a biological level, happiness shows up in the song that I hum, the smile I wear...But how do I get there...is it the presence of something, the absence of something? A freaking double shot of espresso caffeine high?
I know for me, happiness is a feeling of relaxation in my own skin, my own being. Opting to aim for healthy and happy instead of a number on a scale or dress size, has literally taken one incredibly, loud and nagging bitch in my head and stuffed a sock in her mouth. She was incessant.  She was obnoxious and she always managed to kill my confidence. The absence of overly critical, unrealistic self judgment has helped me be happy.
I like to listen to music and get lost in my thoughts. Both activities send me to millions of different places, memories, daydreams, and neither activity is ever the same, no matter how many times I've done it. Allowing myself time to reminisce, delve into difficult and thought provoking issues, to daydream various love stories, war stories, and future possibilities are absolutely among my favorite things to do. I guess that if you had to ask me what hobbies I have, I wouldn't be lying by answering "Thinking".
I have no need for anything. My want list is of course a mile long. I have the means to meet every physical, mental, emotional, blah blah blah need and I'm certain that is a huge blessing. A roof, food, running water...the basics and then some. So the absence of stress regarding fundamental needs helps me to be happy.
Nowhere in this list does my happiness depend on someone else. More often than not, someone else's presence may even be a source of "less than happy" or even unhappiness. I try to minimize that as much as possible, which tends to look like me being short tempered and uncompromising. If my two failed marriages have taught me anything, in my life, a husband is unnecessary. So I would agree with him on that, marriage is not required for happiness.
Ahhh... But Love.
To not believe in love, well, I can't even fathom it.
Happiness is, in its purest form, the love of something.
I will always believe in love. The good, bad, and tragedy of it all. I will not shy away from injustice, inequality or unfairness, all things common with love. Let them come and embrace me. May I feel each pang of anger, each stabbing hurt- and then, I will know who I am.
I'm very open about how I arrived at this moment. Knowing me, reading my Blog, or maybe even sharing in the very sacred parts of my life- you know that I laugh easily and don't take myself too seriously (anymore). I enjoy being a Nurse, an Aunt, a friend, a dog owner, and a sarcastic and witty (albeit bitingly so sometimes) writer. I am tongue in cheek and the deepest of thoughts and I did not arrive here gracefully, and for that I am very grateful.
In the midst of my suicidal days, all those days back, I remember pleading to just stop the feeling of torment. Breathing, crying and praying for death- wearing a fractured soul, having no life in me, but living all the same- those moments gave me bliss. Without that path, I cringe to think how lacking my life would be now. It took being completely shattered to open space up for happiness (not new car happiness, or winning the lottery happiness- although I would be willing to test that theory- those are just fleeting, mortal moments)...but inevitably, being surrounded by the broken and the bandaged, the lowest of us low souls, I was blessed with happiness in ways it would take me years to understand. Without that mental break, I would not have been able to experience the enormous range of joy possible. I did not learn humility by winning every game. I did not learn humor without experiencing sorrow.
I did not learn who I was until I was lost from myself and I would never have known great love until I went all in and ended up losing at it.
So, I do not want a painless life or to learn how to avoid hardships completely. I will not be afraid of a broken heart, or living a childless life, because in the middle of all that living, I will know bliss.

Yours,
Brooke

May 16, 2014

Something happens when you fall in love. It is a beautiful, light, giddy feeling. It's that ridiculous perma-grin you wear around and how you whistle walking through the rain drops. The beloved one, the reason for your bliss has surely been chosen because of the years of testing and trials with others that just never quite worked. A day, a week, a moment into the whole gorgeous thing and flashes of happily ever after roll through your mind. At first they might only be snippets of thoughts and visions, but as you get more comfortable with the beloved your mind allows those snippets to become full on technicolor hopes, wishes and dreams. Pintrest has nothing on the future you've built in your mind with this perfect mate. Happily ever after begins in the lives of two people who want nothing more than to share in the love and joy they have found in each other. So thankful to have found and to have been found, feeling blessed that finally things seem to be falling in place. This is where Love is at it's best. Acting on its best behavior and going through life with the greatest of ease. But I'll-be-go- to-hell if Life doesn't come right along and punch Love in the gut. Life can be such a bully. Demanding and demeaning, Life pulls out no stops to keep the tides turning. Joining two complex minds with rich pasts of various forms of hurts, pains, betrayals, and finely honed lists of expectations, Life has a buffet of ammunition to use against Love when Love is at its most vulnerable. Love is strong and very powerful. It can hold two souls together through the most traumatic of experiences- Love will step in front of a bullet or a speeding car. Love will surrender its last breath for the beloved one to continue on. Now, besides those high stake moments of life and death, the majority of the time Life is whispering in the ear saying nagging little things about what Love should be doing, what Love would be doing if only, and generally undermining Love's feelings of "we" and reinforcing the feelings of "me". Life likes to keep score and flaunt who's winning, which never seems to be Love- it's always the Beloved. Love begins to feel undervalued, unappreciated, and over worked. Life always has that secret weapon, the kryptonite to Love's blissful life- Fear. Fear acts on Love in subtle, sneaky ways. It has the innate ability to put emotions into play that just don't make sense. Fear knows those past hurts, pains and betrayals and dresses up in them as current, massive issues, when in fact they don't belong in the present at all. Fear takes up residence in the backseat of the mind, while anger, doubt, and frustration drive the whole damn train of chaos. All the while, Life skips around sprinkling usual daily stress with the occasional full on crisis to keep Love teetering on the edge of uneasiness and complete breakdown. Now our couple in Love is not living in some tiny vacuum..of course not, they live in the big world with the rest of us- there are families, jobs, coworkers, money, health issues, bills, terrorist attacks, natural disasters and about a million different ways that two people are interacting with the world around them, you know, trying to survive.

Because the two are in their Happily Ever After, they don't think to really DO anything about it in the beginning..you know, because it's just Life. Love and Beloved argue and fight and go forward thinking it'll just blow over, that things will get back to normal, back to that blissful stage when Life couldn't put a dent in Love. But the scorecards keep getting added up, Fear keeps flashing old pain in their minds' eyes and Life exhausts the two. No longer fighting for the same team, Love and Beloved are lost in a storm of Life's creation and they can't remember who "we" were and are struggling to just keep the "me" alive. Doubt in Love causes a bigger divide and can be the knife that cuts through the hearts of Love and Beloved. Fighting for Love when the two are on different teams is rarely the way to win at Love. Love must remember how to win at LIFE. 

1. Be gracious for the day at hand- do not take for granted.

2. Be courageous in the face of Fear, but also be smart. Arm yourself with self awareness, the healing of past pains, and a healthy self-esteem. Do not delay healing your soul.

3. Don't sweat the small stuff. Learn to let go of the perfect for the wonderful.

4. Take care of your health- physical, mental, emotional and spiritual- get check ups in each of these and don't deny needs when they arise. 

5. Seek first to understand then to be understood.

6. Do things that make you laugh...and do them as often as possible.

7. Own your issues and don't blame them on anyone else. Giving someone else ownership strips you of your power to deal with them. 

8. Look forward to tomorrow and have a "tool box" of ideas for making it the best day ever. 

9. Don't do anything in excess- eat, drink, sleep, work- find balance in all areas of your life. 

10. Learn to quiet your mind, control your thoughts, and manipulate those thoughts into loving, helpful, and beneficial thoughts only. Do not believe everything you think, especially if it's hurtful or negative. 

11. Choose to love and be loving, but don't forget to be lovable. 

12. Know yourself, through and through, and love that person the most. 

Dear Love and Beloved-

I know things are awful right now and that no amount of anything seems to make a difference. Be patient, be kind, and don't forget why you picked each other for your Happily Ever After. The best love stories are those of triumph over heartbreak...be each other's love story, but also be each other's Love. 

Forever Yours Truly,

Brooke

May 6, 2014

If I had to pick one thing that has had the biggest impact on my life, it would be that I chose to become a nurse. Now, I didn't really give myself much credit 20 years ago when I was graduating from high school in small, rural Loogootee, Indiana. I just figured I could be either a nurse or a teacher. Nothing else, and I mean, nothing (not even being a writer) was even an option. I'm thankful that my Mom planted the seed of a college education and never let it waver. Back then I was still living inside a zip code. I had seen more Amish people in my life than anyone of a different color or race. Can you imagine thinking that seeing a horse and buggy at the Dairy Queen drive thru was more normal than seeing a Black or Hispanic person?

It didn't take long outside of that zip code to open my mind up to the curiosity of different faces and places. A restlessness grew inside and I took advantage of every opportunity. Have nursing license, will travel- and I did. Looking back, my first trip out of country was to France. I was still in college and I went on a guided tour alone. I'm shocked that my parents held themselves together so well. As much as they had the right to put their foot down, they never really discouraged me from doing anything. Hmmm...I should be sure to thank them again and again and again - but sorry Dad...when you get old and senile, you're still going in a home! :-0

So after graduating college I was out...trust me, there were better options than the one I chose, but in reality, I wouldn't change anything. Back then I was much more serious than I am now- who knew it would take growing up to learn how to be silly, an art I would like to think I have perfected at this point. 

It was because of being a nurse that I have had the opportunity to impact lives, not by medications or dressing changes, but by caring. Learning to make a stranger as important to me as my own mother or father, sister or friend. There are so many foreheads that I've cooled with a cold wash cloth, and hands that I have held in dark, quiet rooms. The prayers, the tears, the inner screaming "God please do something" as I performed CPR on 4 month old Joseph, to no avail. Fighting the good fight, and a lot of times fighting a losing battle, against my will, if my will were ever even allowed a choice. The suffering isn't always in the patient lying in the bed. I believe the majority of the suffering is experienced by those left behind when that bed becomes empty, because the ones left to live on will carry that with them. There takes a certain mindset to embrace the care of a dying patient. I consider it an honor. To be at the passing of a life is like nothing else in nursing. Sometimes it's quiet, expected, and solemn, with families surrounding the patient. Sometimes it's violent. CPR, bright lights, alarming monitors, and loud, urgent voices. Even when studies show the survival rate of someone who has coded in a hospital are only 20% or something, we still carry on the beating of a body into submission for the sake of possibly living another day. When does the body's will to die become less important than the mind's will to live. Of course our mind will want to live, in my mind I'm still celebrating my 30th birthday, and would never think of giving up, until someone, maybe a nurse, or a loved one, reminds me that I am the mind of a 30 yr old, but not the body. What's the saying...It's not the age, it's the odometer reading! Our body is only as strong as it's weakest link. 

Life has unfolded in front of me and destinies have played out. I have seen the best and worst there is and still manage to love my job. I don't do it for the money. Most people I know, that aren't in the medical field, have said "You couldn't pay me enough to do what you do." You're probably right I say. What is the value of a nurse? What is the value of the person in the hospital for 12 hours at a time taking care of your neighbor, your teacher, your grandparent, your child, you? What price tag can be put on caring for those in need? Possibly saving a life, and sometimes not?

I have the answer. 

Allow me to care for my patients, pay me a competitive market wage, and give me the resources and time that allow me to do the best that I can. Being able to make a difference in a person's life is it's own reward, don't crush that, take it for granted, or brush it aside as insignificant. Don't demolish that place in my heart and soul that allows me to work non-stop for 12 hours, giving everything I have physically, mentally, and emotionally. If you commercialize and reduce Nursing "Care" into strict numbers and budgets, supply chains and quotas, you will break me, my spirit, and my love for a profession that is already taxed and damaged. I cringe at the thought of being a patient 30 years from now. I will not have my children at my side, because they don't exist, my family will also be aging, and when I'm there in that hospital bed, the last thing I want is someone who is supposed to be nursing me back to health making me feel like a number instead. And should the time come that the will of my body has met it's end, may there be a nurse there that will take the time to wipe my forehead and hold my hand in my dark quiet room.

Yours,

Brooke

April 30, 2014

I have a thousand thoughts going through my mind and can't decide on where to start...do I talk, men, work, friends, failures...?? Hell...my dating scene pretty much covers all of those!
Although, I'm not typing very well because yesterday I was beaten and bruised when I was pushing a mannequin in a wheelchair with one hand, and pulling a computer on wheels in the other down a short, somewhat steep slope which had the computer attempting to sling shot around me and the mannequin to win what must have been a heated race between the two--- it really was roller derby all up in my business and if only the big black guy watching had caught it on video I would surely be an internet sensation by now...  damn it, I would be so good VIRAL!. Maybe next time..
So, there I was...dating again.
If I didn't have bad luck with men, I would have no luck at all...you could also exchange the letter L in luck with an F and that would also be true. Seriously....I've spent the last few months doing the casual dating thing and trying to keep an open mind, but is it too much to ask that the date show up on time and not 45 minutes late for a first date...reason being he's just not good with punctuality?... Really fucktard???...that's what you're going with...and the morbid thing I was thinking..."this asshat came up with that as his BEST excuse..what in the hell was really going on?" I'm not sure I should have let this guy buy a vowel much less dinner..but then decided..hey..free meal, and some free drinks the next few times we end up at the same bar again..might as well re-coup my time wasted with some nice adult beverages. Strike one.
Another guy seemed to have some real potential...I should have known when he said he didn't drink that I shouldn't even waste my time- but it really does end up being the little things... this guy couldn't even pick an appetizer much less make an executive decision on something (so I am assuming)..I really do judge a person based on their ability to perform easy, simple, everyday things..hell I pretty much divorced my first husband because he routinely forgot to flush the toilet after he shit or remember to check the mail...it infuriated me to no end...So if a MAN can't get it together enough at the age of 36 what kind of appetizer he likes to eat, then for the love of God stick with dating women who get baffled as easily as you do (because really....in my life- I don't find MENUS to be complex, difficult reading..it's pretty cut and dry, you either like something or you don't, and the last time I checked appetizer menus haven't changed a whole lot). Strike two.
In the end I just want to hang out with my bartender friend Bill...he tells better jokes than me, can keep up with my wit and sarcasm,  is hysterically crude, and his Grandfather is from Loogootee. All excellent features in my book. Bill and I get each other. No need for smoke and mirrors, false airs, or even hiding the broken parts of ourselves. We are the type of friends that have evolved over drinks and incredibly bad karaoke. We've shared some of our war stories and left some untold- understanding that some things should remain buried- we have both traveled near and far- lived the good life and the living on shoe string life- We find ourselves in this tiny section of the universe, just trying to enjoy the ride while it's still in motion. He has come to settle in my soul like Suzanne, Tara, Kelly and Carrie- all people who have earned my love and devotion for always accepting me for who I am, for being honest with me and hard on me when I needed it. As simple as it may sound, I don't have really strict criteria for these few splendid folks..I only ask that they see me clearly for the person I am- faulty, funny, moody, goofy, and support me as I stumble and fumble through life. They expect nothing more from me, than me just being me...which is really fucking awesome.

Dear Bill-
You are by far the most politically incorrect, can't believe you called me a slave owner, amazingly hysterical person I know. You may never understand the immense adoration I have for you or maybe you will...just enjoy the ride with me.
Yours-
Brooke

April 22, 2014

I had the thought a few weeks ago about "doing something religiously"..I don't have any habits that I can put my finger on. I don't count a morning Dr. Pepper or my preference for Captain and Coke as something I do religiously, because let's face it, those are just evidence of sound decision making..
The very thought though, had me watching my own daily patterns, and low and behold...I found something!! Now, it can't be called a habit because in all actuality- habits and neuroses are two different things. There I was, looking into my bathroom mirror, with my face less than 6 inches from that aging old hag in the reflection and I was taking stock of all the hair covering my face..sure... MOST of it is just the soft, practically invisible peach fuzz stuff that only I can see when I'm religiously looking at it (see what I did there!) and of course there are those random, dark and nasty looking hairs that appear on my chin from time to time to remind me of why I need to be looking so closely in the first place. It is just shocking though how MUCH of that baby fine, translucent hair there is..I'm like a marvel of nature, the first ever albino Sasquatch! I have half a mind to take my mascara wand to my face to prove to you non-believers that it's true- hell my mustache would make Tom Selleck jealous and I can't have that hanging over my head.."Indiana Albino Sasquatch drives Tom Selleck to question his manhood"...There could be someone's life at stake. We can't have that.
I'll just say a fervent thank you to the powers that be that it's remaining invisible to the almost naked eye. If you start staring at my face the next time I see you I might feel the need to jab you in the throat. Consider yourself warned.
Besides my impending journey into full facial waxing, I've also been picking up on a few other things lately..for instance..my two cats who are usually just non-thought provoking, movable furniture pieces, that frequently hog the bed, bark at me if there's no water, or instigate an allergic reaction--- have actually been interesting to study. The ugly cat, (they're sisters) likes to throw herself down in front of Beetle and roll on the carpet. The pretty one (she's cute, but I get the feeling she's not all that bright) tends to stare off at the ceiling and watch an invisible butterfly or something..maybe the spirit of the old man that used to live here, but I digress...what really got my attention the other night was that the two of them were sitting on the floor right next to each other, apparently studying something..I walked into the bedroom, they looked up at me, then back down and I happened to ask what they were looking at (yes I talk to my cats), well they both disperse as if I was coming at them with a flame thrower..and sweet 8 pound baby Jesus they had cornered the world's largest spider (that's only a slight exaggeration)! Aren't they supposed to kill insects and small rodents..or rodent sized insects?? The rat sized arachnid goes scurrying under my bed and now I've got to figure out how to UNSEE that whole mess so that I might be able to sleep at night! You know damn well I didn't get on my hands and knees and look under my bed..who do you think I am, some bimbo in a horror movie? Nope.. not looking under there, like ever. I had to just shake it off...rub some dirt in it..drink some water..I held very tightly to my belief that I was not cruel to animals, ever, and that's why I opted to live in harmony with all creatures. Even ridiculously large arachnids. Oh shut up, what would you have done? The closest thing I had at my disposal would have been a flip flop and what? should I have thrown it under the bed at the spider? That'll show 'em. There was only once that particular night that I jumped out of my skin thinking the spider was crawling on me, but it wasn't...it was just my fluffy facial hair blowing in the breeze.

Dear 8 pound baby Jesus,
First, I want to congratulate you on making such beautiful creatures, big and small. I am sure they are all loved equally in your eyes. I know that the circle of life is really about survival of the fittest, a food chain if you will..but for all that is holy and pure please, please instill into my domesticated house cats a ferocious, take no prisoners stance on hunting insects and rodents, and rodent sized insects. May they not pester and play with those that they hunt but pounce on them and kill them dead, quickly and swiftly and if you feel so inclined, maybe teach them how to put the dead carcasses into the trash.
Your faithful servant-
Brooke-world's-first-documented-albino-Sasquatch- Albertson

April 10, 2014

So there I was, sitting buck naked on a bath towel, on the floor of my bathroom, attempting to give myself a sponge bath out of a soup pot because my hot water heater decided to go on strike. No. It's not a pretty sight. But actually getting to the bathing part alive was no small task. The first "bath I drew," I poured equal parts boiling water and tap water into the pot and placed it on the closed lid of the toilet seat. I stepped over to get out a wash rag and I kid you not that soup pot was jumping to its death off the toilet bowl. The crash of the pot induced a wee bit of a dainty shriek but the hot splashing water on my skin brought forth a slew of such filthy vulgarity that Beetle barked and the cats hid under the bed. The good news is my bathroom floor is clean, well at least I thought. So, again.. to the towel and a just right water temperature (second times a charm) in my make shift bath basin sitting perfectly square on the floor. It was fucking miserable. You don't get all fresh like a morning shower kind of wet, you get damp like gross reclaimed water out of the water misters at a theme park wet and then attempting to use the right amount of soap and water is mission fucking impossible..I had the completely wrong ratio of soap to wet wash cloth that the soap was on my skin in a layer that finally started lathering when I was trying to rinse it, then the rinse water was contaminated with the soap water and I hadn't even gotten past my arms yet! and my GOD the HAIR!!! stray, random hair, sticking to my body every where the wash cloth touched...hair from me, maybe Beetle, maybe old Mr. Whosywhatsit that lived here a decade ago, or maybe from the family of rats that are surely living in the walls seeing the size of the hole at the corner of the baseboard under the bathroom vanity! Did the Universe put a "kick me" sign on my back???
But as God as my witness, this is the thought that occurred to me..Man.. I am one lucky asshole that I live in a civilized society with running water, sewer systems, and doors for hiding behind to clean all my dirty bits. Praise God! Can I get an AMEN! And I have to say it. I am a bold faced liar if I EVER told any of you that I liked camping. Bullshit. I have camped overnight... not overnightS! One night does not a camper make. Oh..and all these wild eyed fantasies of traveling on do-good missions to third world countries to help vaccinate the natives and teach them English- HELL NO. I don't need to re-enact this whole "bathing" experience again anyplace that might result in me dying from being bit by a mosquito or mauled by a hippopotamus. I'm pretty sure that in Zimbabwe the dirt floors are incredibly therapeutic for getting those pesky knots out of my back that I get from sleeping on my plush pillow top, 600 thread count sheeted, king size bed, in a darkened room with a fan running, but I'm willing to risk the eternal damnation by keeping my volunteering to places more attuned to someone of my sensibilities. Shoot, I'm not asking for the Ritz Carlton, give me a Motel 6 and I'll leave the damn light on for you.

Dear Maintenance Man,
If I have to drag you down here by your uvula I will..because one thing is for certain...This girl is not, I repeat, NOT about to wait until next week for a new water heater to get installed because you pussy footed around all Friday and didn't make it in time to take care of this monumental problem (emphasis on mental) I am enduring. Shit just got real man and I am not afraid to hold you hostage.
Your faithful, on time, rent paying, don't care if my ass stinks so bad, gonna keep changing my underwear and walking fast so no one is sure it's me that stinks- tenant,
Brooke Albertson

March 15, 2014

So there I was, feet in stirrups, Gynecologist looking over the shoulder of a tall, lanky medical student named Chip or Scooter or something else very "argyle" like, who happened to be all up in my lady business. Let's just put it this way, "Biff" wasn't the first man to get lost in those parts! NO no no..my woman-ness isn't some cavernous vault to go spelunking in.. but it's such an odd thing and I'm here to discuss this taboo subject. (Sorry Mom!) Was it Charlotte on Sex in the City that had never taken a look in the mirror at her nether-region-?? and she finally did and it of course wasn't the scary, awful place that she expected. I don't really remember the first time I dared to look. I do remember the first time I used a tampon and I walked around for two hours with the cardboard applicator still in, horrified at how it felt, and worried sick I would have to sit down (but still secretly pleased that I became 'a woman' before my older sister!). Did anyone else look at the silly instructions where the drawn figure has her leg on a toilet seat? What is this toilet bowl twister? Pitiful. I did have to go back and read the instructions thoroughly so I finally did get it right.. man, you would think that I learned this lesson all too well from this one experience, but NO...I'll try and put the damn bookcase, laundry rolling cart, or any other put it together yourself torture device without reading the instructions.. yes. I might have a drawer with miscellaneous unused pieces. yikes.

Anyway..off topic..redirect, REDIRECT!

I was painfully shy when it came to my body. I remember hearing how some high schools made the kids shower after PE.. I would rather have died than be seen, you know, naked, by anyone! Even changing was embarrassing, hell just peeing in a bathroom where others could hear was hard enough!! I remember we teased a girl on our high school volleyball and basketball team because she was also very shy...but I was right there with her. God Bless you S.S. :-) well S.C. now.

Losing my virginity was, in my memory, kind of like the final piece to a jigsaw puzzle. It wasn't a huge deal, it wasn't NOT important, but looking back I think I was unimpressed about all the hoopla surrounding it. Like that one GREAT MOVIE everyone talks about...and after you see it, you kind of scratch your head and say, ok then..now what? Again, I didn't have a clue what being a woman meant, or even what being intimate could really mean. And Pleasure? please...no freaking clue. How would I know? My baby maker was a source of embarrassment and fear. Don't touch it, you might lose your hand!

I learned a lot about sexuality from Sex and the City. Believe it or not, it was "The Rabbit" that introduced me to pleasure. Who knew! The buzz on the street was that I wasn't the only one enjoying the battery operated boyfriend. I was such a prude too... shut up, I was! I remember the horrifying experience of  bacterial vaginosis. Or like I prefer to call it..hot trash in the hoo ha from a hot tub. The foulest, most sickening smell ever AND it was coming from ssshhh down there. For the love of God and all that was holy I could not keep my legs together tight enough without smelling it and there was no amount of scrubbing and cleaning to make it go away. So that little gem of an experience made me paranoid about what I smelled like! How was sex ever going to be enjoyable with all these issues! (antibiotics cleared it up, fyi). And wait.. oral sex? Now I have to worry about the taste? For Heaven's Sake someone just shoot me. In my personal opinion, you could remove my entire torso and I would live happily ever after. It's too much pressure!!! Now

I haven't had children, or any sort of shape altering experience in my genital area, but if I had ever had kids and people were gonna be focused on that particular part of my body, and afterwords it might not "snap back" to the way it was before...just forget about it. Where's the convent? sign me up, they drink wine right?

I'm happy to say I'm a somewhat reformed prude. I have had some men in my life who have pretty much forced me to see the beauty in my body, and taught me to relax with my clothes off. I still don't get it, or see it as "a turn on, or sexy" but hey whatever shoots the flag pole up works for me!

Dear Vagina,

We've come a long way baby. Who knew all this time that you really just wanted to feel loved and adored. To feel like you were part of the team. I apologize for using you as a means of attention, as some sort of prize for someone else to have, when all along it was my acceptance and trust in you that mattered. 

I'll try to be better. OH, and sorry about that whole painful IUD thing, but neither of us want to ruin this new found relationship!

Your Faithful Servant,

Brooke-I-just-blogged-about-my-vagina-Albertson

February 16, 2014

So there I was watching '42' ..the story of Jackie Robinson's first year in Major League baseball. I thought to myself, how awful it must have been to have to deal with such ignorant and simple minded people. Just like most things in the past, I could relate it to the world today. The "racism" continues between all skin colors, ethnicities, social classes, sexual preferences, zip codes, education levels...the list goes on and on. I know in my life and the world I live in there is something inherently unfair going on.  I'm ashamed that I make assumptions about people. Pierced and tattooed might be your trigger for judgment. Maybe it's the person's hairstyle or the music they listen to that sends you into categorizing other people into some unspoken hierarchy of the worthy or unworthy, the dumb or the smart, the rich or the poor, the have or the have not. Working in the healthcare industry there is always an undercurrent of it- judgment. Shopping in certain stores, buying gas in certain neighborhoods, drinking at certain bars has put me in the position of being judged. Being divorced twice; 37 without children; JUST finishing my Bachelors degree; driving a hybrid; taking anti-depressants; living in Indiana; BEING from Indiana; being from the United States. There are stereotypes and labels and expectations with every adjective that can be used when talking of me. Maybe some people think that my joking nature and easy laughter make me flaky or even less intelligent than someone more serious or proper (a Physician colleague I feel made this assumption and has been pleasantly surprised at my intelligence). Speaking of work, the most beautiful thing happened just the other day. A co-worker had a patient who was coming out of anesthesia and the patient was not doing well in the emergence of it. Imagine waking up with a tube in your throat, coughing and gagging, not getting your breath and your hands are tied down and all the while your chest feels like it is being torn apart. Holy hell that is one sure fire way to make ME go bat shit crazy. Between the ventilator, the blood pressure alarms, the pain medications, and making calls to the appropriate person, I knew she could use a FEW more hands to say the least. The patient needed a sense of calm. The patient needed to gain trust that he was going to be fine. He needed to know that what he was going through was temporary and very normal. I spoke softly, wiped his face, his tears, and went about doing the "nursing" things that he needed right then that I could provide. Reassuring him, coaching him on how to breathe and when it was all over with, the nurse asked if I was mad at her. I laughed and said heavens no. I get that a lot actually. There are times in life, in work that my attention and focus is so all encompassing of something that people often mistake my intensity for anger or some sort of emotional upset. To see that layer of my personality is something new I suppose. To see me cry; yell; talk sweet to my niece and nephew; to hold the hand of a dying man and pray. To know that I like to meditate, walk quietly through the woods, to sit pensively with my thoughts- probably doesn't seem to fit the person that some people have gotten to know.
Now, if there are so many varied aspects to me, even to the people who know me, work with me-  and even THEIR judgments of me are off, imagine just how off our judgments are of people we have never even met, or have only met in a certain light. Even hearing from someone else, an opinion of another, is never likely to be a 100% accurate assessment, probably not even 50%. What are we afraid of; what do we possibly have to lose by reserving judgment until we experience first hand what it is we are judging?
"Golf and skiing are for rich snobs"
"Sushi is eaten by people who are fake and wanna look like they are important"
"Only drug addicts have a lot of tattoos and piercings"
"People join the military because they aren't smart enough to go to college"
"People on welfare are lazy and don't want to work"
"Hispanics are all here illegally and are taking all of our jobs"
"People who are overweight are slobs and probably smell bad and have dirty houses"
"That person who doesn't speak English very well is obviously ignorant"
"Vegetarians are hippie tree huggers"
"Those self aware, meditating people just like to smoke pot and escape life"
"Anyone who listens to Country music is an inbred hillbilly"
"That tall guy must be good at basketball"
"That pit bull is dangerous"
"That 'cripple' in the wheelchair probably has the mental capacity of a 3 year old"
"That person is on TV and must be really nice in real life"
"That beggar is just some low life alcoholic that wants beer money"
"Catholics are alcoholic snobs"
"Muslims are evil terrorists"
"Asians are smart and all the same"
Any of these sound familiar?
Anyone think it's time to look at our own individual beliefs that are outdated, unfounded and of no use? I hope so.

Dear Lord,
Thanks for the insight. I am starting to get the hang of this whole..."life is a lesson to learn and grow from".
YFS, Brooke