Sylvia's Journal

I spent most of yesterday slumped in my recliner, dosing off after reading some pages. Still, I managed to finish the superb book, the Photographer, that Sita gave us and that describes in a mixed comic book and photo style the sorties in and out of Afghanistan of an MSF team during the Russian occupation. I also finished Rory Stewart’s book about his walk from Herat to Kabul. I am still very excited to be moving to this country in the fall, although my enthusiasm is tempered by the many recent attacks across the country.

In between my short naps I am learning Dari verbs so that I can upgrade my very rudimentary conversation using only nouns to something slightly more sophisticated. I can now say that I don’t understand and that I am learning the language of Darius.

Axel was a busy nurse all of yesterday, running from one place to another. Much of this had less to do with nursing me than with self care, estate management and town work. Late in the afternoon he was finally ready to take my bandages off. He took a picture and compared my shoulder to a slab of pork shoulder, all marked up with blue pen. This was the signature of the surgeon to make sure he operated on the right body part.

We dragged our shower stool out from the basement where all the post crash equipment is stored, and I had my first shower, heavenly.

In the afternoon Reiki Master Isabella came by and gave me the full treatment; after that I was not good for anything other than a small meal and off to bed at 7 PM. I put in an 11 hour night and am entirely off pain meds now for over 24 hours. This morning I am doing well, even using my right fingers to type. Things are looking up.