Sylvia's Journal

Tessa had her new job orientation yesterday and left the house at an early hour to return late and tired, just like her mom. It was nice for a change to be mom-waiting-at-home-with-dinner-ready at the end of the day.

Axel also went to Boston, later in the day, to see the head injury doctor who was pleased with the progress but suggested that less caffeine and more herbal stuff (the doc is of Chinese descent) to relax and sleep through the night would be a good thing. He also prescribed him a drug (norepinephrine) that is one of the chemical ‘messengers’ in the brain. Axel used to take this in a higher dose before the accident when he was diagnosed with ADD. Now everyone agrees that the second trauma amplified the, unsuspected, earlier brain trauma from a car accident some 20 years ago. In my more simplified conception of how the brain works, the norepinephrine lubricates the frontal lobe so that information can slide easier across the 6 lanes that, according to this same doc, were ‘closed for traffic’ after the accident. Attention and memory for learning are still not where they need to be.

During my lunch break I searched for a nearby female orthopedic surgeon on the Internet, preferably even an entire practice devoted to women. I had heard an advertisement on the radio and, with the help of a nice lady at NE Baptist I was directed to this unusual combination of women and orthopedic surgeons. Making an appointment stood in sharp contrast to the rushed and impatient (and often taped) voices that greet you at the clinics of the male surgeons who are at the top of the Boston orthopedic pecking order. I was actually having contact with a real human being who listened and was friendly and was even able to get me an appointment next week. Unfortunately, the woman doctor/surgeon is a shoulder specialist; ankles she refers to others; no, not a woman as far as she knew. I suspected that I would be referred to the same names I already have on my list and had to let go of that fantasy. It was nice while it lasted.

I prepared dinner while listening to the radio reporting on our national financial crisis, which was then augmented by a call from my brother in Holland where banks are also toppling over and stocks dropped even more than they did here. Everyone over there is pointing angry fingers at the US, but I don’t think European financiers are entirely blameless either. Finger pointing is a bit like peeing in your pants, it feels good the first few seconds but when you are outside and the cold wind is blowing it is not fun anymore. My sister’s advice, also from Europe is, sit still, and don’t make any moves. I can’t imagine what else to do other than stuffing my money in a sock under my mattrass.

Sita left China yesterday and should have landed in San Diego by now for another piece of work, the last one on her round-the-world trip that included 4 events on 3 continents. She probably doesn’t want anyone to talk about anything important for several weeks when she gets back. I think she knows too much now.