My Neck Brace Brings All the Boys to the Yard

T-Minus three days until my next doctor's appointment where I will find out if I can stop wearing the neck brace. I'm feeling good. I can't move my neck up, down or side to side but it's starting to feel normal. Like I've been this way for a long time and know how to adjust my movements. I'm looking forward to ditching the neck accessory...or am I?

I've been noticing I get more attention with the neck brace, especially from the male specimen. Such as:

• Getting my drink paid for me by a strange man when out at the bar with friends. This rarely happens to me and it's usually when I have a hot friend by my side. And this time I was by myself while ordering my drink. Unfortunately I wasn't aware that the drink was free until after I ordered it. I should have gone with something more expensive! I thanked him, kept the conversation short before I excused myself because I just can't even at this time.
• Getting hugged by drunk men at bars. Yes, this happened pre-surgery, but it's nice to know that drunk men are not deterred by the neck brace. They are so reliable!
• Having a three year old boy hold my hand in the laundromat. I was waiting for my clothes to dry while striking up a conversation with him. I thought it would nice to distract him and help his mother focus on folding clothes (she was standing in front of me). I must of impressed him so much that he needed to hold my hand. I get them hooked at every age.
• Getting cat-called for every single walk I take in my neighborhood. It's pretty clever of them to somehow reference my neck brace while hitting on me (while they are mostly in moving cars). Luckily I am really good at the "I'm pretending I can't hear you" walk-staring straight ahead. And yes, this was a total humble brag. I'm a pretty pretty princess but totally modest about it.

Although I really appreciate the attention (insert eye roll here) I think I would prefer not having a huge piece of plastic around my neck all the time. Wish me luck!

The A word: The word that we don't want to talk about

My entire life I have experienced three deaths of individuals that were close to me: My grandma Sharon (the only grandma I ever knew), my grandpa (actually my step-grandpa but again the only grandpa I knew) and as September 4, my aunt Carol. Carol was my mom's sister and as far as I was concerned, my second mother. She just had her 47th birthday. We haven't had an official death certificate yet, so there is no listed cause of death. But I know what it was, she essentially drank herself to death.

Carol was only 14 when I was born. My grandma was going through a pretty rough period of her life at the time of my birth, so Carol lived with my mom. Carol would tell me tales of how bad my colic was. In teenage revenge to my all night crying fests (which would keep the entire house up all night) she would stand over my crib and in a deep "monster" voice say "What's my name?" She would also tell me how she would babysit me on nights my parents worked or went out on date nights and then in a sleepy stupor try to feed me a bottle by putting the nipple on a milk jug.

I just now realize that the lower right hand corner looks creepy. It's just a sleeping baby, my cousin and Carol's first born.

As she later became a mother herself, our aunt/niece relationship changed. We became closer. She would have me (or my sister) sleep over at her house. Her husband would work late shifts so she would allow me to stay up to hang out with her (she never liked being alone).I cherished these nights of one-on-one bonding. One of my earliest memories of sleeping over at her house was watching scary movies, Hellraiser in particular. Probably not the most kid appropriate move on her part, but what more would you expect from a young adult in their early twenties?

Carol was always the life of the parties. Her laugh was infectious. Her playful teasing would make you blush but make you feel like part of the family, like you were kin. Family was always important to her. When she moved to Texas one summer when I was around 7 years old she would write home, sending individual letters to all of us. Eventually she had to move back because she missed us too much. She was also beautiful on the outside. Barely over 5 feet, she had light brown skin, big bouncy hair (hey, it was the late 80's - early 90's when that was in!) and always fashionable. As a child I always wanted to be as cool as her.

As a very small child, I don't remember her drinking to be an issue. She was always a funny and carefree drunk. But somewhere along the line her drinking became worrisome. I no longer wanted to sleepover. "Fun Carol" became "Exasperating Carol." Even then the exasperating part would come in ebbs and flows. She'd be fine if: she only drank beer, if she had to watch her grandkids, on the weekdays, etc. Because it was not constant, it was never a red flag. I guess excuses are always made. However, there finally became a point where the entire family was concerned, and by that point it was too late.

She was hospitalized for drinking related reasons for the first time earlier this year during late spring/early summer. Carol thought it was just the flu, but the doctors had found that her liver was in bad shape. She was told that she could not drink anymore. That if she drank, she would die. For the early part of the summer, she was doing very well and staying sober.

The last time I saw her was the 4th of July, before I was aware of my neurofibromatosis diagnosis and subsequent surgery. Ever the protective aunt, Carol later told my mom that she noticed I was walking funny and was worried about me. Due to my surgery and eventual driving limitations I never saw her alive again. I am almost happy this is the case. She was the same Aunt Carol that I remembered. Sober, happy, loving, sweet. I watched her have a hula hoop competition with her grandkids. She and I sat in the sun to get some color while everyone else made fun of us because they were in the shade trying to cool off. We topped off the night by sitting around the campfire and making smores. Such sweet last memories.

However, somewhere within those two months between the 4th of July and her death, she fell off the wagon...hard. Thursday night I was called by my mom and told that Carol was taken to the hospital in an ambulance with the same flulike symptoms, yellow skin and darkened nails and gums. My mom warned me that she didn't think Carol was going to make it throughout the night. Unable to drive home, I had to wait for someone to get me which I knew wasn't going to happen until "it" happened. The next morning I received the phone call. Carol's heart stopped beating.

Once off the phone, being told that my sister was on her way to get me, I finally let the truth sink in. I sobbed uncontrollably, literally cursing out loud. I went from Shock-Denial-Anger in an instant. Who let this happen? Who supplied the liquor? Who didn't step in? Were those stupid young friends of hers that she drank with aware of her problems? Or did they think it was just cool that she drank with them? Why did she let it happen to herself? Didn't she care about her kids? Her grandkids? Why didn't she stop? Did she want to be yet another Native stereotype? Was that "one last drink" worth it? It just felt so selfish.

Almost immediately the guilt set in. I knew the anger was being projected because I was angry at myself. I had known for years that she had a problem but I didn't speak up to her, her husband or my parents. I made excuses: I'm just a kid, they won't listen anyway, maybe she will change on her own. Then I thought about how my recent medical circumstances accelerated her situation. With my parents/family worrying about my health issues, they were less involved with keeping Carol sober.

But the truth is, there was nothing that I or anyone in my family could do. Carol never really truly acknowledged there was an issue, that she was an alcoholic. That word has, is and always will be such a hard word for my family to speak about. But we should talk about it. Even if individual family members may not suffer from it personally, it still obviously affects us individually and addiction is running throughout our bloodline. The more we talk about it, the more we know about it (or at least try to understand it) the less likely we will try to deny it or be ashamed it.

My aunt may have technically died from organ failure, but it was due to complications from alcoholism. I'm not dirtying her legacy by acknowledging so. She is still going to be remembered as a wonderful Mom, Grandma, Aunt, Wife, Sister, Cousin and Friend. She will always be remembered as being the shining light in a dull room, the warm smile in a cold world, the bright spirit that yes, had flaws. I will miss my Auntie Carol.

I'm Really Good at Tinder Too: My one month experience

When it comes to dating I had a long standing stance that I would NEVER do online/social mobile app dating. I had three main reasons for not doing so:
 A) PEOPLE AREN'T REAL - I once witnessed a person (friend of a friend) set up a fake profile just to prank potential suitors. Catfishing before that phrase was even a thing. I feel bad now for not speaking up and telling that person it was a horrible and mean move.
B) PEOPLE ARE LIARS - I once had a friend (who was in a long-term, long-distance, committed relationship) set up profiles on several different dating websites, looking for a little side action. Scumbaggy on its own, he then attempted to have me help lie to the women he met online (all while his girlfriend disliked me because she thought something was happening between me and him). Needless to say, I am no longer friends with that person.
C) I WAS JUST NOT CUT OUT FOR IT - The most important part of online dating is to have a good profile picture to lure in potential mates. And as we have previously established, I am not great at taking pictures. I just didn't trust that I would do well on superficial based dating sites.

Over the past 12 months I had become more relaxed in every aspect of my life. Essentially I had stop caring what strangers thought about me especially anonymous people on online/social media-type dating platforms. I also thought, what's the harm in trying to meet new people? It was not like I was having a ton of success finding (sober) men who were interested in me in person.

So, when a friend of mine became curious what Tinder looked like, and couldn't in good conscience create a profile because she was engaged to be married, asked me if she could create one for me AND to play around with it, I agreed.

First, for those that still don't know what Tinder is (where have you been?): It's a dating mobile app (however I should note here that many people see it as a "hook-up" app rather than a dating app). You upload pictures of yourself and a short description of yourself. Then you set your preferences in others: gender, age range, and location (distance from you). Next your possible choices start popping up. A single picture of an individual along with the age and location of that person pops up. If you want more pictures or the description of the person, you click on the picture. Whenever you make your decision on that individual you swipe right for "Yes" or swipe left for "No". If both you and the other person both say "Yes", the app alerts you of the match and you can either start the conversation with that person or keep it in your "storage" for later conversation (a lot of the time, people do this to wait for the other person to start the conversation).

So my friend found the following pictures to use for my profile:

Because boobs

I was impressed with her selections because they were good pictures but then I felt guilty because there weren't a lot of photos of me straight on and the pictures were perhaps not a great representation of what I look like everyday. The pictures were probably a little too promising and would probably disappoint a dude when they met me in person. But, like I said earlier, I no longer care.

My friend's description of myself went something like: "Brewer's fan. Smart, sassy, funny beautiful inside and out. My friend wrote this description for me." Flattering, but once again I felt a little misleading. I'd agree with the first and last sentence.

So here is quick highlights of my experience and thought process using this app:

• I always would look at the person's description and other pictures before making a decision.
• I was looking for humor, intelligence, and someone that showed they didn't take themselves or the Tinder app too seriously.
• If they had no description of themselves I would say no.
• If they only had group pictures with no indication of who they were within the photo, I would say no (why so insecure?).
• One of the conversations I had with a potential match accused me of being a "Tinderbot" because "None of my pictures looked alike." I was actually flattered by that accusation. He thought my pictures were good enough for someone to steal. He ended up blocking me. Dang, just lost the love of my life.
• One guy immediately gave me his personal number and because I didn't call him within 24 hours, he left me a not so nice message and blocked me. I'm glad that he did me a favor.
• Whenever I accidentally swiped "No" on people I was interested in, I let out a yelp and a soft "damn". I had lost about 6 future husbands this way.
• On the other hand it was terrifying when you accidentally swiped "Yes". There is no way to undo that. Just hope that there isn't a match. Unfortunately one of the times I did this, I matched with the guy and he messaged me immediately. Luckily, once you match a person you can select unmatch, which is what I did for this person.
• When I would get a notification of a match, it was terrifying. My first reaction was to chuck my phone across the room and hide behind a piece of furniture. That guy knew that I was interested! How embarrassing! Clearly I have problems.
• A majority of the guys that I did start a conversation with wanted to see me that same night, and when I said no, I never heard from that guy again. I wonder why this app is considered a hook-up app?
• If your a person that likes to date one person at a time (and hope the person you're dating feels the same way) don't do Tinder. Most people on Tinder are dating several people at the same time. I mean it's smart on their part, Law of Averages indicate the more people you date the more likely you will be to find a steady partner.
• Luckily for me, I never got any of those gross, overly sexual come ons. Even "on paper" I look like a person that doesn't put up with that type of behavior. 
• If you're a person that thinks too positively or does not know how to read situations, don't do Tinder. You'll think things are going great! Great enough to deactivate your Tinder profile, only to be so, so wrong.

So here is my one month Tinder "data": I ended up swiping "Yes" for probably 30% of the profiles I saw. I probably got a total of 10-15 matches. Of those matches, 8 conversations were started. I personally didn't start a ton of conversations, because (like in real life) I am too awkward to know how to start the conversations. From those conversations that did occur, 4 dates were set up. However only two went through to actual dates. But you know what? Two dates in a month for me is a huge win! So basically I am now a hot commodity. Don't hate!

Even with this "great success" I had, I will not be rejoining Tinder anytime soon (or possibly ever). First, because NECK BRACE CITY. Second, dating is by far the last thing on my mind: I am too focused on my own health, returning to work, bills, and family issues. Third, from my experience, the type of person that uses Tinder is just not the type of person that I should be dating. I am, surprisingly, too traditional for it. Clearly I need to take my chances with the drunk dudes.

I Hate to Brag, but I am Really Popular with the Drunk Males

Thank heavens for drunk males. If it weren't for them, the only people that would be telling me I am pretty are my family members. I mean, how am I supposed to know that I am pretty unless it is verbally reinforced to me?

I don't know if I have one of those faces that says, "Come here strange/drunk/awkward man, I need a conversation." Or if it's simply I reinforce the bad behavior by continuing to talk to these men and not ignore them like a normal female. But I don't regret it, because it usually results in a good story/picture (and hey, it's nice to be told by someone who isn't related to you that you're pretty...even if they are beyond wasted).

Here are a few of my past favorites:

I call this guy "fiance" because I never did get his name. He spotted my friends and I on the street as we were trying to get a taxi. He wanted to know where we were going. Somehow we ended up having a long conversation with him which included listing off our favorite movies. When I told him mine was Usual Suspects, he proposed to me on the spot. What followed was a series of pictures like the one above. He tried real hard to get me to follow him to his apartment, but I politely declined.

This fella's name is Deep for short. I met him while traveling in Thailand. He and his friend were staying at the same hostel as me and my friend. Earlier in the day we had a nice chat with his friend who recommended a few things to see on the island, as Deep just stood quietly next to him. Later on in the night, at a beach party, my friend and I saw Deep (without his friend) stumbling across the beach. He spotted us and ran toward us, immediately hugging me and telling me how glad he was to see me. Because of his state (which seemed to include some type of drug along with alcohol), my friend and I were worried to leave him alone. So we decided to walk him back to the hostel. Because he was a small guy I had to drag him along with my arm around him (as demonstrated above). Along the way Deep attempted to feel me up and kiss me which I easily stopped. Once my friend and I got him in his bed, I politely excused myself to go back to the beach party after explaining to him why I wasn't going to sleep with him.

Met this gem while traveling in Taiwan. I am sure that I got him name, but it has been such a long time that I have forgotten it at this point. My friend and I decided to end a day of sightseeing by getting a drink. While we were enjoying our old fashions, this lovely gentlemen started to shoot water (fountain style) out of his mouth in the direction of me and my friend. Instead of complaining to the bartender, I decided to confront him (smart idea obviously). I must have not come off stern enough because he came over to start a jolly conversation. Without an open invite he started hugging me (while asking if we could cuddle). He probably should have been a little more patient in waiting for my answer: which would have been "Not right now." He too asked me to follow him home. I politely declined.

Unfortunately I wasn't able to capture all of my favorites with a pictures. I will sum the picture-less guys up quickly:

• A gentleman in New Orleans (who looked like the brunette version of Guy Fieri) who tried to woo me with this new (aka scabby) tattoos on his arms and stories about his recent breakup with his baby mama of ten years.
• A guy who was 8 years younger than me, saying if he slept with me how jealous his friend would be because they both always wanted to have sex with someone in their 30's. I might have given him death stares after that statement.
• A dude named Ben, dressed in head to toe tweed. He was carrying around a plastic pipe which he attempted to use to caress my thigh.

I am sure the list goes on, but for the time being I can't think of more. If a friend is reading this and thinks of one, please let me know! I love trips down memory lane.

Oh drunk men! I look forward to interacting with you again once I fully recover from this surgery. I will miss being able to tell these stories.

Know your body and take action

I have been home from impatient rehab now for one week. I am extremely grateful for the time I was given in there especially now that I realize how tired out I get from walking, doing dishes or cooking. I really needed that extra time to gain strength and coordination just to allow me to function at a base level.

This entire experience has definitely taught me to take a minute, step back, access the situation, listen to others, and to stop being so stubbornly independent. If it were my decision, the old me would have been fighting the doctors and requesting to be sent home as soon as possible because I felt "fine." Well, I guess feeling "fine" for the past several months has turned out to not be the case.

People don't listen to the signs that their bodies are sending them. I am a perfect example of a person who did not. It started with back tingling/numbness when I would stand up from sitting down. The tingling would last just for a while but would go away after I would walk around for a while. No big deal, probably just sleeping funny. Then I started to realize I couldn't stretch my right leg as far as my left leg. Ah, I am just out of shape, I need to hit the gym. Then the tingling went to my arm. Um...well it's not happening all of the time, probably just a fluke. Next, when playing a game with coworkers where I needed to throw paper in the trash from a distance, my hand wouldn't release the makeshift ball. Instead the paper ball would fall from my fingers awkwardly to the floor. This should have been the moment I freaked out. The moment that I thought, this isn't right. And yet, I still did nothing. I guess the fear of the unknown was enough for me to ignore the situation.

Luckily, not too long afterward, a somewhat new friend of mine asked me when I was going to explain how I got my limp in my right leg. I knew I couldn't ignore it anymore. Other people were noticing something was up. This was the motivation for me to bring it up to my doctor. And here we are now!

I am now a full believer in a trusting gut reaction, especially when it comes to one's own body. If your body is saying, this feels funny you should probably listen to it. Trust your instinct. But one thing:

DON'T GOOGLE SYMPTOMS! IT WILL ONLY LEAD TO UNNECESSARY WORRY! This is why there are professionals: they give us the diagnosis and prognosis (and there is such a thing as a second opinion). Reach out for help if something doesn't feel right. I know I am happy I did.

Finally, I know that I am saying all of this as an employed and insured individual. There are other reasons that people don't reach out for help, which are unfortunate and sad. Perhaps that will be a subject for another blog post in the near future.

Dear Future Biological Children That Were Most Likely Never Going To Be...You're Welcome

I'm currently in inpatient rehab (discharge date in T-Minus 4 days) recovering from surgery and relearning to walk, step and generally function with my right side in a strong and coordinated manner. To be honest, in the worst case, horrible insurance scenario, I could maybe probably be released...I would just be a HUGE risk for falling and forever keeping my "limpy" walk that I have been using presurgery. Bad habits are learned fast and apparently hard to quit. Come on muscles! Listen to those new clear brain/neuron signals!

During this rehab process, I'm getting to know a lot of new nurses, aids, physical therapists, occupational therapists, etc. They ask the standard conversational questions: what do you do for work, where in Milwaukee do you live? Are you married? DO YOU HAVE KIDS!?!?

I am 32. Of course I have been asked this last "kids" question before. It's a standard, generic, filler, fake-it-like-I-care question. Normally I answer the question with no problem, like a script. "Hello my name is Holland, I am 32 from the Riverwest neighbor of Milwaukee. Never married and no kids. Currently working in the recruiting field."

Even in my early 20's I said that I would be ok with never having kids. It was not going to make or break my future. If it happened, great! If it didn't, that was fine as well. That is why the kid question never moved me. It didn't define me.

For some reason, since I have been in the hospital, I have been offended by that kid question. Offended on behalf of the alternate universe version of myself that has a long time desire to have kids. The kid question that would remind a person of a very difficult decision that could lie ahead. Do I knowingly attempt to have children given the high risk of passing on a rare genetic disorder that just happened to give my personal ass a swift kick? Not to mention that within the past year I have also been diagnosed with general anxiety disorder, from my understanding...also highly likely to be passed on?

And then, I think, what if I was a woman that was previously trying to have kids but was already physically having difficulty? What if on top of infertility, I was now dealing with a weakened spinal cord, genetic neural tumors and anxiety? THANKS FOR ASKING SUCH A SENSITIVE QUESTION PEOPLE!

My future kids viewpoint has remained the same throughout this ordeal. I don't desire children and I don't not desire children. So this roadblock has still not affected my life. However, I wouldn't lie if it didn't make me think. What if I met someone that made me desperately want to have children? What if I unexpectedly become pregnant? What then? To be honest, I would be a mess!

Physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually...this diagnosis/surgery has been....challenging. But one of the most difficult things to watch is what it has done to my parents/family. I am so beyond lucky to have them and the rest of my family in my life. They have been by my side every single day in the hospital. But to watch the constant worry/fatigue on my mom's face, fresh gray hairs and nervous scratches on my dad (listening to his stress naps in the chair next to me). I start to feel guilty for putting them through all of this. My goal is to get back to normal so they can go back to normal and I no longer have to watch them deal with this entire situation.

Why would a person want/desire to have children when something like this could happen?  And this is one of the "easier" things that could happen to a kid (I am not dying, I will survive). So many horrible, terrible things could happen to your offspring. And you would have to watch them suffer?  Sorry, but not sorry. I am too weak, selfish to do that. I'll keep my group of people that I care about at the current number and create no new people that can stress me out!

Uhhh, but really my intentions are far less selfish. I just don't want a future person to potentially inherit my genetic disorders...yeah, that's the real reason. It's for them. Not me. Congrats future nonexistent mini-mes.

Oh you're going to see me naked? Ain't no thang!

There was a time that I wrote in this thing and it was just sheer silliness. Mere musing on everyday life or embarrassing awkward things that happen to/with/around me. You know, awkward people attract other awkward people/situations. Over the past year posts/things have changed. I've posted more honest, perhaps less humorous posts about online bullying, anxiety, unemployment, illness. Not so much rolling on the floor laughter (do the kids call it rmaflol?), but I hope the posts were still insightful.

With my recovery I have decided to allow myself the same insightful self indulgence. Writing more blogs. Bring it back to the early 00's! Along with this, posts will most likely come with some brutally honest moments of helplessness, giving in, pessimism (falling along the lines of the more recent posts). However, in the end the new posts will have a bright positive outcome because let's get real... I'm me. If I am not dead, I am ok, which means I am great! There's so much to be grateful for, which I will delve into later.

For the time being let's start with a little silliness. For example, when you are in any type of extended hospital stay (and maybe this is just me) it's ridiculous how fast you to get acclimated with people seeing you nude. For me it started with my pre-surgery prep. The night before the surgery they had me stay in a neck brace and needed to supervise my shower to make sure I didn't fall and that I cleaned my entire body. The nursing assistant got to see all of me but didn't really touch me. Weird, but I had to deal with it.

The actual physical touching/cleaning, that came later in the night. About 4 hours into the night, the nurse and nurse assistants came back in to give me an in-the-bed scrub, make sure I was really sanitized before surgery. All this was hands on and super weird. I kept thinking "Do you really need to scrub THAT for surgery?" Then they swiftly took off to let me rest. I felt so used! :-P

All cares flew out the window post surgery. Anyone and everyone could sneak a peak at me. I didn't care if my gown was drooping. "Oh hey nurse, you need to remove my catheter? Great, get right up in there and I will let everyone in the room see as well. Cough? Ok, Ehh. Out? Good."

To be honest it can be helpful to let others see your body. Many times the Nursing Assistants discovered heart monitors or band-aids that were still lingering on my body post-surgery that I didn't know were still there. Apparently they just removed a band-aid from a very larger injection/shot/in-cession the surgeons made in my lower lumber. The nursing assistants found it after they watched me walked back to bed after using the bathroom (which they still need to do because I am a fall risk and my bed is alarmed). Why thank you for watching my butt as I let my robe hang free!

However, it can circle right back around to "LEAVE ME ALONE." For example, when I was at my grossest, and they finally allowed me to shower. I was so pathetically unclean I just wanted to shower my dirty grim away myself, but still concerned about my stitches. I wanted help but I wanted independence. So I washed my body and let the nursing assistant wash my hair. She took longer than I liked so I called it off early (I can comb my hair outside of the shower!). I have my nudity limitations.

I hope the only professionals that will see me full/semi-naked for awhile will be my immediate general practitioner, an esthetician, a massuesse, and that one escort (JK, or am I?).

Fun done for now. Maybe I'll get a little more serious later.