Sylvia's Journal

My dreams were about our new presidency and the people who will run my adopted country. That is not surprising since there is much talk about this. This morning’s newspaper had a picture of the team that will tackle the growing crisis. The picture was striking by what it was not: a team of grey-haired middle-aged white men. Obama is sailing the treacherous waters of not being president yet but expected to do something that will show we are in good hands. I skimmed through hundreds of emails that told me he is our savior. I am sure someone else, maybe also just back from Afghanistan, is skimming though the same number that show he is the devil incarnate.

Yesterday was part two of homecoming but in a touch-and-go kind of way: unpacking, but not entirely, filling in various forms for time spent and expenses made, reports, laundry and putting travel gear away but within reach since I will be leaving again in less than a week. The first signals from the visa front are encouraging: the visa application was hand delivered at the Bangladesh embassy in DC with a faint promise that Liz can pick it up on Wednesday and bring it back from DC.

Now that the trip to Dhaka seems more likely than it did before, I started to prepare for my 10 minute presentation at the BRAC conference about how to change established practices in health service delivery to become more effective. That wisdom is contained in a guide that was prepared by several agencies that sometimes compete and sometimes collaborate. I am representing the collaborative piece as part of a panel of people who have thought much and done research about the phenomenon of ‘scaling up.’

Part of the coming home routine is also delivering the gifts I brought home. I think Axel has claimed the small rug which will chagrin Sita (but then there is always a next time) because it is now unfolded on our bedroom floor and he does his exercises on it. Tessa got her henna which I picked up in an Indian supermarket across from my fancy Dubai hotel. As it turned out one packet says black henna which Tessa claims could not be right. She and her friend Valerie are the henna experts, so they know.

The Sinterklaas goodies from Holland will be stowed away until our hybrid Sint Nicholaas celebration on Christmas Eve before they are consumed prematurely. The bag with taai-taai, a chewy anise flavored cookie bar, is already half consumed because it makes for a perfect early morning snack with coffee or milk; but the chocolate letters are off limits – they will go in the shoes that we will put out by the fireplace for Sint to fill in exchange for carrots (for his horse). We hope it will be the new fireplace that was supposed to be installed this fall so we can burn up the 4 cords of wood from our cut up Norwegian maple.

Today Axel and I are going for orthopedic expert opinions number five and six (two were by phone so these are in person consultations #3 and #4) at, respectively, Mass General Hospital and Brigham & Women’s. One is at 9 AM and the other at noon. These are the long awaited appointments, made three months ago, which should bring some clarity about what to do with my ankle. As if it knows, it has been acting up/out a lot lately with the neuropathy at the bottom of my foot going from mild to very annoying and the pain and stiffness on both sides of my foot going from mild to sharp.