Sylvia's Journal

After a very long sweep of the most glorious fall days, real fall weather seems to have arrived. It is overcast, windy and rainy. The kind of day that makes you want to stay in bed.

Axel did not have a very good night. When I tried the ‘crawling in the hollow of his arm maneuver’ early in the morning I could tell quickly that no such thing was possible this time. The onward and upward is sometimes interrupted by a standing still, or even a slight downward and backward. This we saw with his eyesight the other day. We try not to be too disappointed. On the other hand, the return of feeling in my heel remains upward and onward. I checked it about 20 times yesterday because the improvement was rather big in a very short time and I could not quite believe it. But it stayed that way and when I set my foot down and the heel touches the ground I feel it, such a novel sensation.

We attended a lovely christening ceremony of grampie Magnuson’s latest great-great-grandchild, Annaleigha Akerley. Sita and Jim joined us for the event at Tucks Point. Below the rotunda, all through the service, three little boys were fishing for crabs with pieces of hotdog tied to packing twine. As far as I know none were caught. It made for nice background noises and fitted the theme the minister had chosen for his words: a happy and safe childhood. After the short service we celebrated the event at Nancy and Ed’s home in West Gloucester with relatives and friends, good food and Stewie, a very stubborn and busy little dachshund.

Axel and I took a ride to Ipswich in the afternoon. We stocked up on fresh apples, honey, cider and pears and expected a quiet evening at home, doing our exercises, eating leftovers and going to bed early. Not quite. Ankie and Emilie called form France just when Gary showed up to select and cook for us some of the abundant mushrooms in our yard (they are all edible he assured us and showed pictures to prove it). To add to the entertainment, my colleague Karen from work arrived to show off her godchild Leilani, accompanied by her proud parents Tiffany, a former colleague and Paolo her husband. The grown ups in this quartet all practice the Brazilian fighting dance Capoeira which I saw once at a dance place at Central Square in Cambridge. Paolo is a teacher and Karen a new student. That would be about the last thing we could imagine doing. Maybe that is why I dreamt about it during the night. The way we are when we wake up, and someone participating in this dance are as far apart on the continuum of flexibility as I imagine possible.

Gary stayed for the dinner that followed the mushroom appetizer. Jim cooked us a spicy beef and veggie curry and Gary donated several ears of fresh corn to cut the chilies. And then all was quiet again.

I am very conscious, this morning, as I write this that exactly 3 months ago we woke up in our hospital beds to this new experience of being alive and survivors of a crash. We woke up to the joy and surprise of many people, including ourselves, but we also to the pains, frustrations and tears of a long and slow recovery. Three months into this recovery our days are starting to be quite normal and the changes from one day to another less spectacular even though they remain remarkable. With a few exceptions, like Axel’s driving, we can do our own daily living again. I am beginning to suspect that there may not be enough material for a daily report. Is it time to close Caringbridge? Pleas let me know.

We woke up late and started to talk. I had not even propped myself up to write. This was a new experience; a journal entry with two voices for a change. Axel is lying on his left side, the side of the operation, the bad arm, the one with the two deck screws inside it. This is a huge accomplishment. Last night I even maneuvered myself briefly inside the hollow of his left arm. Axel was afraid that the deck screws would stick through his arm and hurt me (the orthopede thought this was very funny, ‘no, that could never happen”). Only a day ago he did not think himself capable of lying on his left side. Once body parts are released after being either encased in plastic or some other health device, it is hard to let go of the fear that these body parts are fragile and bound to break or that they will bend the wrong way and something terrible will happen. It’s the fear holding us back, the imagined pain, not actual pain.

So with this new small victory, Axel, or rather we (we are in this together) turned another corner, a small one, but a corner that opens into a new hallway. The fact that there are a zillion corners and hallways after that is a little discouraging at times. Axel read his ‘syllabus’ to me for the next couple of weeks of physical therapy and got a little depressed. The syllabus is called Lumbar Stabilization. Chapter one is ‘lie on your back with knees bent and feet on floor.’ After that there are six more chapters. He knows when he can move into chapter 2 called ‘Bridging’ when he can do ‘dead bugs’ and ‘double dead bugs’ which are the last exercises of chapter 1. That should be a sight; I can’t wait.

I had my second acupuncture session where the focus was on the nerve-impaired sole of my foot. The feeling had been millimetering in from the back of my heel in the direction of my toes. Until I started acupuncture it had covered about half my heel, moving about one millimeter a week. Now, on waking up, I discover that most of my heel has its feeling back. The acupuncture session was less intense than the previous one except for the heel area; now I understand why; there was hard work being done there. My foot also feels more limber than even a few days ago. What causes what I will never know; I can only think that the physical therapist’s ultrasound, the massages, the multiple exercises done several times a day and the acupuncture are adding up to show these results.

A few other miracles: Axel’s vision was OK in the morning as we drove to his OT session; unfortunately it got worse again as the day lengthened. But it makes us think it is a muscle that needs strengthening rather than a nerve that is damaged. He will see the neuro-ophtalmologist in a week and hopefully we will know more by then. The other miracle is that I woke up this morning without neck pain and feeling quite limber in that region. It felt so normal that I nearly missed it.

Gary Gilbert had invited us to use his hot tub some time ago and yesterday we took him up on that invitation. We soaked for about 30 minutes. It was wonderful for all the tight muscles in our backs and necks; less so for my still swollen ankle that was crying out for ice, not heat. We came home sleepy; created dinner out of several leftovers and then we went to bed very early. The night was, once again, full of interruptions and pains, and day break a relief. We are looking at another busy day full of body work, again.

We both had our hair cut by Bonnie, sitting outside by the cove, providing much nesting materials for all the critters in our yard. Axel’s therapist Paul showed up for another session ‘en plein air’ and I went off to my EMDR session and after that physical therapy. And then it was five o’clock again.

I am experiencing considerable tension (right between my eyes) between the slow pace in which I feel I am plodding, not going anywhere (yes, after a night like this it feels like we are just going around in circles) and the strong, at times explosive, pull of going ‘outside’, wanting to be back into the world again; a tension between being in the middle of things and standing on the sidelines. I am participating as much as I can in work meetings by phone; I am responding to emails and I am trying to complete the little work I have on time, even if these are self-imposed deadlines. But it is a struggle when the days are so filled with the work of plodding along. After last week full of spectacular milestones, I could have expected something like this.

And then I compare my plodding with Axel’s for who going back into the world is not even on the horizon, given his real eye and arm handicaps and doctor’s pronouncements that we may be looking at a year. And when he says, “what am I supposed to be doing, sitting at home doing exercises for a whole year?” I cringe and my wish to go out into the world feels selfish and my guilt, held at bay for so long, creeps back into my mind, what have I done to him?

I don’t think I have woken up this late in the last three months, at nearly 8 AM. This doesn’t mean I slept through the night. I think I did that only once or twice. But the nights, interrupted as they are, are generally good. I woke up around 6 to the usual stiffness and pains and did some of my exercises in bed rather than wait for the hot shower. This took the edge off and I fell asleep again. I retrieved my dreams which came in two parts: before the exercises and after. I was not able to retrieve much of the older batch. The newer batch was all about Leiden, my alma mater, with relatives and friends in it that no one here would know and who I have not seen for awhile (Jet, Ineke, Clariet), some not for more than 30 years (Paul Kist). What brought them into my consciousness I wondered? I did not look at their pictures, or talk with them. Something about my student years that came to the surface. The mind is such a mystery.

What this does trigger is thoughts about my consciousness and unconsciousness during the crash itself. In the early days of my journal when I was still ruminating daily about the crash itself, I already wrote about this. I know that the moment I became conscious of losing control of the plane my consciousness shut like a trapdoor. I am sure it did that for a reason. If I had gone consciously into our free fall, I would have tensed up and probably broken every bone in my body, if I’d survived at all. Much like I get tense when I see calamity movies on TV. My being unconscious allowed my body to relax and thus absorb much of the impact, whatever remained of it after the bog absorbed much of it. I imagine myself something of a rag doll as we hit the ground. And then, when I needed too be conscious again, to help my rescuers know what was broken and painful, it returned.

Axel and I have few conversations about the crash. And when we do it is usually because someone is visiting and asks the question. I always see Axel wince; sometime I can see his body physically move away from my words. His mind has stuffed the experience into a far away place where it is not accessible. This is another protective trick our mind plays on us. He knows he has to retrieve it some time but right now there is too much else going on that needs his full attention and concentration.

Another yesterday rushed by filled with phone conversations to untangle bills or settling them, exercises, which have practically tripled in a month, our daily visit to physical and occupational therapists. Axel now had physical therapy added to his regimen and had to make two trips to Peabody. Thank you Roger and Diane for driving him.

I prepared my first dinner for our dinner guest John Gorsline. For once it would be us feeding our guests rather than our guests feeding us. But lo and behold, a partial dinner was dropped off in the morning by Ellie and Rick plus a recipe for the other part. This was a repeat from an earlier dinner they had cooked for us and which was among our top ten dinners (I will post the recipe on the Airset calendar). So that’s what I cooked. Of course John did not come empty-handed either. He brought a bottle of 1% wine which we did not even know existed and Axel sampled a very small glass; he also brought two chunks of real Dutch cheese nd a multi-grain bread and pasties from the best bakery on the North Shore (King in Salem).

Sita came home enthusiastically from the Topsfield Fair where she’d gone with her old friend Tim. She proudly showed us her winnings and new acquisitions: a giant stuffed manatee with baby sewn onto its breast and ‘faces’ from a bobcat and a fox (sort of like a scalp with the skin only), both probably illegal and rather creepy looking with her fingers through their eye socket holes. Maybe that brought on the weird dreams.

The early morning writing has, besides a therapeutic value, also a more physical function. While I am writing I move my shoulders, wiggle my toes, stretch my legs and help them get ready for the day. This is a far cry from my jumping out of my bed at 5 AM to go play squash with my seventy-something partner. She probably still can do this.

We are learning to accept whatever comes our way and that the images we may have had of ourselves as sprite 50 and 60 somethings is, at least for the foreseeable future, not going to be. Sometimes this is very hard, as with the contra dancing, or when Axel takes our Sunday visitors out on the beach and I have to stay behind, but then I remember the words ‘it is what it is,’ and I do my exercises instead while looking at the cove and discover that it is the best place in the world to do my exercises. Whatever is in front of me at the moment is actually not a loss but a present.

When I was younger I remember being convinced that the grass on the other side was greener. It was hard for me to enjoy what was right in front of me. It was an attitude that gave me some advantages. I was the best at anticipating what would come next and be ready for it. Instead of savoring the end of day hot bath or the joy of snuggling between well worn sheets in a warm bed I was busy imagining the cold and wet ride to school in the dark and making sure that everything I would need, book bag, clothes, lunch, was ready to go. I did not know at the time that I was also depriving myself of this other gift which is called ‘living in the moment.’ When it was vacation I wanted to be back in school, when I was in school I wanted to be on vacation. My grandmother once chastised me that before dinner I wanted it to be during dinner, and during dinner I ate so fast, practically swallowed food whole, so it could soon be after dinner and I could go back to play. I think I sailed through the most wonderful events in life always thinking about the next landing.

If I were to maintain this attitude now I would be pretty miserable much of the time. Fortunately I seemed to have lost it at the crash site. It was a good loss. My morning routine is better now: a slow rising to the surface of wakefulness. I pick up the computer from my bedside table, open my eyes and stick a pair of glasses in front of them while trying to retrieve shards of a dream that is dancing out of sight. And while all this is going on I register things up and down my body, in my mind and outside, in the physical world. In my work we call this the leadership practice of scanning. And it is only now that I realize how it is connected to living in the present. After all you cannot scan the future since it is not yet there to see.

I look out of the window at Lobster Cove (now in the clouds) and register the weather. I already know the temperature because it is projected on the ceiling throughout the night together with the time by a smart little clock that beams this information up in big red letters. I check to see if Axel is awake (he is not) and either start writing in my dream log, or, if already too late (as today), in my Caringbridge journal.

The last two days have gone much too fast for me to do all I had planned. There was little time for my MSH work although I managed to attend (virtually) a brown bag lunch about corporate involvement in the kind of work we do. But most of the time seems to go to phone calls, exercises and physical therapy. For Axel this is about to change and get more intense. We have ended the meals on wheels program, with gratitude, but continue to need the wheels part of the program for Axel’s many rides to Peabody. I will need larger chunks of time to concentrate on my work, with deadlines hovering at the end of this week and the following ones.

We heard last night that Joan’s brace is off as well. If her experience is anything like Axel’s it will be both a loss and a gain the next few days, but after that only gain. Welcome to the world of the people who are plastic-free, Joan!

My vivid dreams vanished much like a spider net disappears when you walk into it. The only thing I remember is that my friend and colleague Cary Perry was in it. This is not surprising since I just discovered last night that her network overlaps with mine in yet another way. We had already discovered that she is connected to our children’s school network (in several ways), and the old Manchester network but now I discovered she is also connected to my organization behavior teaching society network, something that is not local at all (but the connection is of course always local). In an exchange about this new connection Cary wrote me that I am at the epicenter. I think not; for me she is at the epicenter. The thing is we are all at our own epicenter but many people don’t know it (as we did not). We can only hope some people discover this joyous fact without having to have an accident.

Much about these last three months has been about discovery. This was possible because we were going slow (standing still at times). When you slow down you can see more of the landscape. Trains are slower than jet planes, cars slower than trains, bikes slower than cars, walking slower than biking and lying in a hospital bed or sitting in a wheelchair is as slow as you can get. That is when our journey of discoveries began. I discovered the rhythm of ebb and flood as the cove filled and emptied itself. I am not sure I have ever seen the whole sequence in one single day. And while I was watching people shared with me their stories about broken bones and broken hearts and I discovered how much we have in common.

Through the EMDR therapy I discovered past traumas that my mind and body had hidden from sight; and then I started sharing those with my siblings, one by one and I discovered things I did not know about them or events that I had tucked away or entirely missed; much like they discovered things they had missed; hurts and feelings that I am still carrying with me as baggage.

But most important of all discoveries was what the Xhosa and Zulu people from South Africa have known from the beginning of times. It is called Ubuntu and it means a person is a person through (other) persons (umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu). Our forebears probably knew this also but somewhere along the way (in our planes, trains and cars) we lost this piece of wisdom. And it took our fall out of the sky to retrieve it. Might this be the lever Archimedes talks about?

Yesterday Axel had an EMG (Electromyography) which is the electrical recording of muscle activity. It took an hour and a half. I was his ride so I got to watch. I had had something like this done to diagnose my carpal tunnel syndrome (which vanished after the crash) and remember it as slightly uncomfortable. But this looked much worse and the doctor also stuck a thin needle into his muscle while I watched waves on a computer screen and sounds as if we were deep down on the ocean floor. The news was mixed and not much of a surprise: he has serious injuries in his left arm and it will take a long time (a very long ‘awhile’) for this to be fixed. There was some good news about his sensory nerve down at his wrist which was more active than expected. Although it is not clear what the nature of the blockage is the doctor assured us that nerves are quite good at bypassing blockages. However, considering all the work that is taking place inside his arm and the rest of his body, the nerves will need time, lots of it, do re-route themselves. So the recommended treatment is good sleep, patience, hope, much physical and occupational therapy to keep the muscles strong and active and avoidance of anything that contains neurotoxins (like alcohol). So please help him with that. He had just gone back to savoring a real beer or glass of wine. Nurse Sita and Sylvia are on high alert and watched over him like hawks when Ken and Carroll came over with and for dinner. He was good!

Progress is being noticed on both the foot and neck/shoulder front by my physical therapist and I can’t help but think that the acupuncture set something in motion. Ever since last Friday’s session there has been a lot of activity around the tender places, some of it quite intense.

From one day to another there about 100 to 150 hits on our Caringbridge site. “Did you know you had that so people in your community?” asked Gary last night. ‘No,’ said Axel, ‘we had not realized that.’ We actually never had thought of ourselves as embedded in a community. But we are and we know it now.

I remember Axel complaining some years ago that our social life paled in comparison to that of others. I did not quite understand him then and I think he will never ask that question again. It had something to do with having parties at other people’s houses, with invitations and all that. My preference has always been the last minute call about a dinner, something like ‘we have some terrific this or that, would you like to join us?’ Or us getting on the phone, ‘it is a beautiful evening at Lobster Cove, come join us’; or even better, ‘the tide is right, come pick some mussels.’ The last one is more of an order. We did not do this a lot, but frequently enough. Food and company and good conversation…these are intimately linked.

The first month after our accident we were engulfed by our community. I liked it while Axel was at times overwhelmed. He had been in the hospital for over a month and I think that made a difference. For me it was like the loose strands that made up the web of people we know, got tightened by the care and concern that each brought to us as soon as they heard of our plight. This web had lots of thin threads and loose ends flapping in the wind. But with each call, email, card, meal, ride and the accompanying conversation this loose network fashioned itself into a tight and beautifully patterned web. And still, to this day, people enter from the fringes and want to be part of this.

This, our rescue community, may well have become something of an archetypal community, like the old village. All that the villagers need to thrive is right there. The food is grown, then cooked, then consumed right there. The smith, the doctor, the midwife, the negotiator, the warrior, the farmer and the baker contribute what the village needs. Everything is there when it is needed.

We are not sure how it happened but we know it has something to do with permanence and being rooted in the same place for a long time. It has something to do with living in the town where one grew up, where the policeman was a classmate; it is about being married to the same person for a long time and being included each others’ networks; it is also about kids going to a small school that emphasized community and made sometimes reluctant parents work together on complex tasks and discover the joy of each others’ company. It is about sending out deep roots and holding on. We know how lucky we are that we got all this. I am not sure we ever realized how very rich we were.

The community certainly kicked in again yesterday with visits from MSH colleagues Mary O’Neil and Edith Maes and her husband Rutger, and more food than we can handle. As per the Airset schedule Peggy showed up with a very complete meal, including cake, cookies and drinks. A couple of hours later Fatou showed up. She had decided not to call me first expecting to be refered to the calendar and that would get too complicated; so instead she cooked what I think was a very complicated four course dinner and dropped it off. We gave our visitors large take out dishes and forced them to help themselves. What a deal, you come for a visit (and were forbidden to bring food) and then return with a bag of food. And then we had enough to invite Gary and Christine to finish the rest (there were still leftovers even after Jim and Sita joined). Since we were still working on leftovers from Friday we think the food program can come to an end, now that we can shop, harvest and cook ourselves again and with a freezer still full of parked meals.

During our first days in the hospital the big news was that we would all fully recover but that it would take awhile. The only part of ‘awhile’ that we could envision at the time were two endless months, a time for the bones to heal and get back home. The days and weeks went slowly at first and then everything started to accelerate to this week where major milestones were accomplished (more on that later). We have completed the first phase of the period called ‘awhile.’ That we accomplished it we know from X-rays, scans, doctors and people’s reactions (“Wow, you two look great!”). If you were to see us standing still and from an angle that would obscure Axel’s scar, we look entirely normal. But we feel far from normal because there is still much we can’t do and much that hurts.

The next phase of ‘awhile’ is going to be much longer; we are talking about 6 to 10 months. It is a very stretched out ‘awhile’ that will require amounts of patience that far exceed what we needed to muster so far. Our bodies can do laundry and cleaning but our muscles, tendons and ligaments are still traumatized and they protest when we act a little bit too normal; and the nerves, well, they aren’t even in the picture yet.

Before the crash I never thought much about range of motion, or real feeling in some parts of our bodies. Now we are both keenly aware of what’s missing. It’s sad that you have to lose something in order to appreciate what you had. Luckily, we are told none of our losses are going to be permanent. This promise sustains us and makes us look around at the things we do have, and appreciate them wile we still have them. And we certainly know, experientially, that nothing is forever and things can change on a dime. Horace has been telling us this for centuries with his Carpe Diem.

More freedoms again on Saturday. This truly was the most spectacular week in terms of milestones; the week in which we turned the most corners: Tuesday: Axel’s brace off; Thursday: my boot off; Friday: driving again and Saturday: flying again.

The flying part was a bit sneaky on Arne’s part. I had gone to the flight center to deliver the last of the replacement headsets. I made sure the new plane was on the ground so I could touch it (click on the photo tab of Caringbridge and you’ll see me and my new plane). I even climbed into the plane and sat at the controls, with no intent to go flying. But when I went back into the office Arne suggested we go for a little spin over Essex County and circle over our house, check out the big cruise ship in Gloucester harbor and do some fish spotting over Salem harbor. It was a glorious day and I consented on the condition that I’d be a passenger, not pilot; I took the right seat, a place I had never sat in before, to show that I was serious about not piloting myself. Of course Arne had different plans and later I regretted I took the right seat. He did have me take off and cruise and when it was time to return and land, he demonstrably folded his arms and left the controls to me. But I was in the wrong seat and everything was reversed. Getting ready for landing made me break out into a cold sweat. I gave the controls back to Arne and he landed us safely. It is now very clear that I need to do some serious work on landings, both in my EMDR sessions and with a flight instructor.
But the exciting part is that I flew again, and that I know that my body can handle the mechanics without strain or pain. I was a glorious fall day, and I knew why I went flying in the first place.

Back home it was exercise time again and the rest of the afternoon we prepared our toasts/roasts for Andrew, who celebrated his 60th birthday. His birthday party in Essex’s lovely shipbuilding museum was wonderful. We saw many old friends and everyone marveled at our ‘normalcy.’ I wore jewelry and a skirt for the first time; it was our first real party, with music, dancing and lots of people. Unfortunately we could not participate in the contra dancing, something I would have loved to do. Such things will have to wait ‘awhile.’

Saturdays are still important milestone days because our lives changed on a Saturday. Like a baby’s age in its first half year, we still count in weeks. Today we have reached the 11 week mark and this moment has become a milestone of sorts. With a brief pause every morning, as I write before I leave my bed, the weekly pause is not all that different, just the view a bit bigger. We have come such a long way!

My therapy session also became a stock-taking session. Ruth reviewed what I had wanted to work on when we started out, five weeks ago. At that time I was still reliving my failed attempt at landing and my body would react in a way I could not control. A windsock was a trigger for an emotional reaction and I could not bear to think how Axel was carried out of the plane wreck. All that seems far away now. I can acknowledge every piece of the experience without getting all obsessed, teary or uptight about it. The EMDR therapy did its good work already in addition to raking loose some other insights that are helpful to me.

We had breakfast with our night nurse David. He arrives late the evening before and gets up early to cook us breakfast and take Axel to his appointment. Since we can get ourselves into and out of bed now, David’s presence as a night nurse is redundant but as a friend we’ve decided to keep him on. So he will continue this tradition for awhile longer. His little dog She-Ra gets to spend the morning in the bunny pen and have the illusion of chasing chipmunks. Of course knowing that she is penned in, the chipmunks now tease her and all the animals are having fun.

Sita’s has started to nag Axel (and I sometimes chime in) once an hour to do his exercises with his hand and arm. On Thursday he finally complied. She even had him set his watch to make hourly beeps. The impact was swift and total: his occupational therapist complimented him on Friday morning. The results were clearly visible.

After OT Axel went to a memorial service in town. He was dressed in suit, dress shirt, tie and real shoes. Putting it on was not easy (nor was taking it off later in the day) and required assistance. He looked very smart and not at all like the trauma patient from just a month ago. He got to see many friends and acquaintances but realized he is not quite ready to stand in a reception line as long as he did. He paid dearly for that the rest of the day and the night with various back and neck aches. Nevertheless, he would not have missed the event. We are learning that pillows and chairs need to come along on his public appearances. Woody brought him home and hung out with him while I was enjoying my new found car freedom and drove myself to my appointments.

I have added a new dimension to my recovery with acupuncture. My first session was quite remarkable compared to my previous acupuncture experiences. With needles in place, lying on my back in a dark room, it felt like I was poked all over with a cattle prod in a rather sloppy way, with sparks careening through my entire body. The activity at my right ankle and shoulder was particularly intense. At one point my right and left ankle seemed to be in conversation, “Hey, how are things streaming at your side?” “Oh all is hunky dory here, but your side looks rather taut and swollen, what’s amiss?” It is this image of the two sides talking that made me smile and made the pain bearable, the body healing itself. At the end of the session I felt like a variation on the truck that had driven over me. Now it felt like a truck had driven through me.

We had a quiet dinner cooked by Sita and Axel. After dinner we all got busy: I took a bath to soothe my aching body, Axel returned to his exercises and Sita resumed working on her gigantic drawing assignment that is spread out all over the living room floor.

Later Chris and Jay came back from Boston with Jim. Jay is a new pilot like me and we talked for a long time about flying. It was wonderful to talk about flying again. My dreams were full of it that night.

More freedom yesterday. My orthopod released me from my booth. And better, he told me from now on I get to decide whatever I want to do. Yes, he really said that (so I had ice cream AND chocolate after dinner). The really big development is that I drove the car. Not my Bluebaru (it went to Canada with Tessa) but the silver one with the oil leaks and a thousand other costly defects. The one we had signed over to Jim, thinking at the time we would never drive again. At least it felt that way. But yesterday, at the end of week 11 post-crash I drove the car into town to the supermarket. I shopped all by myself (‘please put the heavy stuff in the left bag and keep the right bag real light’), and then brought the goodies home. You cannot imagine the sense of freedom and power. I no longer have to ask someone to get me something. I can get it myself. I also can drive myself to nearby appointments, and will start doing so today.

I had offered to drive Axel to Salem in the evening to get his scan but Sita would not let me. She wants me to drive only short distances for now. “What if your foot gets tired and you cannot brake in time?” The last thing we want is another crash. But my foot did not get tired driving into Manchester and back. It was a remarkable and exhilarating experience.

It took Axel most of yesterday, some real serious pain meds and stretches once an hour to get through his pain. Abi’s expert massage set him off on the right path and the day ended OK. His third night of freedom was, as he told me cheerily this morning, “a hundred percent improvement.” We have both had our experiences with these occasional bad days and/or nights and we are learning that ‘biting through’ gets us to the end which invariably arrives, sooner or later.

My massage has moved out of the light post trauma touch into deep and hard muscle work. There are a thousands knots in my body and Abi has set to work to get them out.
My office, aside from being the sickroom before Axel got home, now also serves as the massage room and occasionally as the exercise room. But most of the time it is my office again and real work is getting done there. I ‘attended’ MSH’s quarterly staff meeting via webinar with colleagues from around the world. It is such an amazing thing that we can be together while so far apart. Working from Manchester-by-the-Sea is not a big deal when you have colleagues who work from Rwanda, Ethiopia, South Africa, Nicaragua, Ghana, Malawi and many other places. Just another person calling in from an exotic place!

We planted grass on the dead spot where the ramp had been just in time before the rains arrived. Today, for the first time in weeks we cannot see the Cove out of our window, or the reflection of the rising sun on the Putnam’s windows. It will be a day for indoor chores and work. I am slowly rearranging the house into its former self, returning stuff to where it came from or throwing it out.

Last night I got busy reassembling my flight bag. I have replaced the headsets that belonged to the Beverly Flight Center which I had borrowed on that fateful day. I have been busy bidding on them on E-bay. Axel and Jim, on their way to Salem Hospital for Axel’s scan picked up the third headset, which will be my own, from an E-bay seller who happens to live in Salem. I am still missing items from my flight bag and I am rather obsessed with getting it to be ‘just like it was.’ Clearly, with the driving, something else is coming into view, my first flight.