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

December 14, 2013

I sometimes try and think about what it is that I'm doing with my life. I get caught up in these big screen thoughts of purpose and meaning. I see visions of people I feel have/had purpose- Oprah- Gandhi- Martin Luther King, Jr- animal savers- Soldiers- and I can't get my mind around what the hell I'm doing. It's taken me some time to realize that the "what" isn't  actually some big bulk of future calendar pages that will mark my selfless mission to do something "meaningful". There won't be a tournament in my future that I will participate in to some how prove my worth to the world. I'm not sure if others think about this stuff. I would imagine they do, but to what extent is unknown to me. 

I'm a self described geek. I like the ideas of big thinkers. Learning the why of how some people think. How Zappos is the best customer service company in the world, how Disney is the happiest place on Earth. I read the books- ate them up. To be so effective on such a large scale is phenomenal.

So you can imagine my thrill that IU Health contracted the Disney Institute to help build a better company, a more satisfied staff, and I'll venture to guess a lower bottom line. My chance to see "it" in action. So exciting! Well- you can imagine my surprise to hear lots of grumbling and negativity around the staff having to attend the very thing I am so excited to be a part of- and after they attended it being more negative and crotchety for having to waste 2 hours of their time. WHAT?!!?? I feel so defensive about it like it is a personal attack on me. Of course it isn't but what gives?

I haven't been to "Strength Training" (as it's called). So I don't know what that 2 hours would look like to me. 2 more hours of pay. That's the only thing I can guarantee. So maybe it isn't fair of me to get on a soap box about it...but seeing that I actually read the Disney Leadership book..I think it gives me some credibility.

It's not about the paycheck people. It's not. This community of ours..you know as co-workers, is going to go through ups and downs, cut backs and growth, and at the end of the day what you are making a living at can actually be more meaningful and fulfilling to you if you want it to be. Our "Purpose in Life" isn't some distant event, it is in the very essence of who we are and what we do in our everyday life. It's holding the elevator. It's saying Thank You and what can I do for you. Our hospital is our home away from home. Pick up trash you might see on the floor because you have pride in YOURSELF, not the hospital. Do you want to be someone who has a mentality of "it's not MY job" or do you want to be someone who understands the value of small selfless acts. To hide in a corner during your shift and browse online because your JOB is done? Or maybe you want to be the person who sees that doing a few simple things can make a big difference for your co-workers and your patients? To be held in high esteem for your ....shall I call it kindness..of being someone that people WANT to work with..who WANT to be on your team. It's not a ME society anymore. It's an US. Those hospital beds have plenty of our own in them. When it's my turn to be a patient instead of a nurse I want caring nurses and you're fooling yourself if you think that caring only happens at the bedside. 

Thanks Tony Hseih and Walt Disney for inspiring me to want to be better.

Sincerely,

Brooke Albertson

November 4, 2013

To My Mother- Laurel Ann
You are celebrated today. Loved a little extra by those near you and by those across the miles. Having lived on this earth with you for 37 years, I know that there will be a quiet spot in your soul where you will visit today to compare where you are with where you thought you should be, would be, could be. Angry, sad, and maybe bitter for the life that you left un-lived, rehashing choices for a few breaths but in those final moments in that quiet seat of your soul, you'll feel grateful that you are still here. Trey will say to you "Nina- Happy Birthday" and you will Thank God that your life brought you to this very moment.
My eyes fill with tears, thinking that one day you will pass from this Earth, and I fear you'll never know what you meant to me and to the world.
You are Mom.  No wiggle room to be human. You had to be stronger. You had to be resilient. You had to be above emotions, pain, sickness, frustration and exhaustion. I try to remember you in my childhood as carefree...but you never allowed yourself that luxury. You were protector and savior. Cheerleader. Boss. You weren't just Mom, you were also Dad. Doing what had to be done. I can count on one hand the number of times I've heard you raise your voice, in 37 years. When inside, a war had to have been raging. And as children, teenagers, adults- your daughters always think we know more than you. How completely ridiculous of us.  The breadth of your patience and the depth of your forgiveness are greater than anyone I have ever met. You are one gracious woman.
Your style and tastes are such a testament to who you are in this world. You take something that was worn down, left behind, and thought to be unusable and you breathe new life into it. You give it a new purpose. You champion it's usefulness and introduce it back into the world. You've done this to old windows, doors, cans, records, vases, jars..and even me. In your eyes, everything deserves a second chance.
At my age, I'm not sure I will ever have children. I will never get the chance to take them school shopping, out for ice cream, trips to Florida, and my biggest regret would be that I would never get to mimic your sing song voice saying "Good Morrrrrrnnning, it's time to get uuuupppp!"
I love you Mom. Everyday. Happy Birthday.

Dear Lord,
Thank you for letting me share my life with such a truly amazing woman. Thank you for sending me someone to teach me about compassion, patience, strength, and beauty. A woman who's work ethic I am proud to say I inherited. Most of all Lord, thank you for sending me an Angel. Bless her life with good health, happiness and love. Your faithful servant, Brooke Albertson.

October 28, 2013

So there I was, looking into the sad eyes of a friend who was recounting the end of a relationship that had been going great. Funny...last week, this actually happened twice- (one couple 20 somethings, another 40 somethings). We've all been there, but then again, no story is alike and no tear falls the same way. What is alike is that it leaves every woman feeling that they are too much and not enough at the same time (borrowed that from a great book). Too needy, too emotional, too clingy, too high maintenance, too MUCH. Not casual enough, not carefree enough, not sexual enough, not into sports enough, not ENOUGH. My mind likes to have a lot of physical attributes- not pretty enough, not sexy enough, not skinny enough, laugh too loud at my own jokes. Whatever a woman's "too much's and not enough's" are they are a representation of all of our biggest fears being projected onto the loss of yet another guy. Ultimately, the big question always becomes..."What is wrong with me? Why am I not worthy of being loved?"
Which of course is horseshit.
And I'll tell you why.

I went out by myself about a month ago and had some drinks, meeting this guy and his female friend who were lots of fun. The guy was funny and quick witted- an actual match for the speed of my mind, but I wasn't at all attracted to him. We shared the usual stories of being divorced, no kids and what not. Ironically enough I got the female friends phone number, as she was a hoot too, a single chic, without kids who might be a fun wing man from time to time. The next week I get a text from the dude. Of course, I didn't know right away who it was and when he asked "Do you know who this is?" and I said "God" I laughed out loud at my own genius. He made a comment that he figured I would have asked his female friend for his number, which I didn't, and it was awkward, the end. Do you know that when discussing this with the chic, he is actually married with three kids? No joke. The moral to the story is this- there is not a damn thing wrong with anyone.

Men, women and children. We are all a bit off center for so many, many different reasons. When we try and bend and twist into what we think the ideal woman is, we just end up shooting ourselves in the proverbial vagina. As great as the vibe might be with a guy, as wonderful as things are going, and as awesome as the sex is- there is NO guarantee that it means squat. Enter the broken heart- the heart is bruised up from pride and an over active ego, but broken from losing the dreams of what could have been. The heart and mind are spastic bastards- yacking in our ears about it having to be our fault that another guy obviously rejected us for being such losers. Again- total horseshit. Really- the voices inside the head are mean spirited and crazy! So don't listen to that propaganda. Go ahead and think of cute baby names. Imagine your ideal wedding, honeymoon and the gorgeous house. What we must all do is stop LIVING for what we want the future to be and start making our lives actually happen for us today. Men come and go for stupid reasons. Afraid of commitment, mommy issues, daddy issues, too intimidated by a woman who really does have her shit together. Men will figure their own crap out when it's time. So stop beating yourself up for not finding "the one" in every great relationship. Life is a path of detours and potholes- enjoy the ride and make the most of the moment.

Dear Mother Mary- Men suck on a grand scheme when it comes to relationships, dating and love in general. If you could find it in your heart to kick them in the baby maker and straighten them out, we would be most happy and thankful.
Your grateful servant- Brooke-I-speak-for-all-amazing-women-who-have-put-up-with-this-horseshit-for-too-long-and-TOTALLY-not-bitter-at-all-Albertson.