Sylvia's Journal

The dishwasher drama Tessa described is one of those moments that my inability to do much of anything comes sharply and painfully into focus. I can’t jump out of bed, run up or down stairs, and really be of any help other than telling what I know. Coming out of sleep, my brain did not function all that well. Anyways, I am glad to read that Axel did not experience any such handicap and was able to give wise counsel from afar. I am also happy to know the cause of this mishap and waking up this morning without seeing water seeping over the threshold. I may further contemplate sleeping upstairs again, after Axel comes home. But that is another story.

John Gorsline, the father of Tessa’s best friend Sarah, surprised me with an hour of his undivided attention. We knew each other only slightly through our daughters and a couple of Christmas get togethers. We may never have exchanged more than 20 words in our lifetime. And yet, we sat in the yard and talked as old friends. We talked about this tendency of the mind to rewind the story over and over. I was deeply moved by his generosity of spirit.

Pauline and Alberto Haddad showed up with their little children and an enormous Lebanese mezze. It was the biggest meal I have eaten so far (with this sort of food I forget about limits). We had a wonderful time, talking, eating, watching the children, as if nothing had happened to me. Just one of those great summer gifts: friends, great food in the most beautiful place on earth. Sallie Craig showed up minutes after the Haddads with Gado-Gado, an Indonesian vegetable dish which we saved for the evening. Sallie Craig’s presence released the girls and all took off to run errands and do things they needed/wanted to do.

Sallie Craig took me to Axel and we had another nice visit. Not having seen Axel for nearly two weeks, Sallie Craig was quite surprised to find him in great sprits and not so much looking like an accident victim. He is not wearing a Johnny anymore but a regular T-shirt. And of course, no braces. Sallie Craig withdrew to the rehab’s lovely deck and read her book, so we could be alone for a bit. Thank you for all these gifts (food, driving, privacy, company, etc.)

These trips to Salem exhaust me and I think I ought to be taking them earlier in the day and may be not each day, as much as I like to see Axel. I am counting the days until his return home, maybe another 10 days or so.

I was thrilled to see Joan’s appearance in the guestbook. I am encouraging her to write in the journal as well since this calamity happened to three of us, not just Axel and me. I also hope that Joan and Morsi will use caringbridge to indicate their needs as I imagine Morsi must run out of steam now and then.

Mike Morris talks about guilt. You want to fight about who has most? I am not a catholic but in this round I may win from you.

Thanks Joe for the exercise. I am going to postpone it though. Later. I first have to go to this dark place, no matter all the advice from everyone about not going there. When Axel’s fatigue kicks in and he looks frail and tired I am overwhelmed with guilt and ask myself ‘what did I do to him?’ I can’t see Joan in that situation but the same question pops up, and then the tears start flowing and the regrets burst over the levee and the film starts to rewind with all the possibilities of not making those mistakes, doing the correct landing and going on with life as planned (I would have been on the plane to Dar es Salaam as I write this).

I can’t help myself. It is as if I have to go there to place an offering on the altar of the god of regrets, to appease him (her?) and get this out of my system. I am drawn there even as I am fully aware of the blessings and the goodness that seems to have come from this and which I might not have seen in its full glory if all things had gone as planned. There also would have been blessings and goodness – maybe of a different character – but blessings nevertheless – had I not crashed the plane and life had gone on as before. It’s not as if it had been dull or without friends and joys. Those images also spin through my mind: together harvesting our new potatoes, the tomatoes, the morning omelets with fresh chard, the kayaking, the daily walks, mussel picking, a flight to Maine to see Andrew and Katy Blair, the things we had planned, were planning for the summer.

Yesterday a letter came from the FAA. Sita said it was written by a robot, which is why she insisted on calling the robot later in the day as she wanted to give it a piece of her mind. The letter was rather blunt about my incompetence as a pilot and that, unless I called within 10 days to make an appointment for a practical flight test, my license would be suspended. It was like the small stone in a bowl of soft rice, the piece of eggshell in a fluffy omelet or the cherry stone in a cheesecake. It hurt. The contrast between all the gushing about how great, courageous, brave, strong, etc I am and this assessment was quite stark. I had to swallow a few times, even though I know the assessment was correct and I already knew that I would have to sign up for another check ride. But still.

Cary from MSH was my first visitor. She was one of the MSH crew who stepped in to teach the course at BU that I was supposed to start teaching the 17th. Gratefulness mingled with regrets, I had looked so much forward to this teaching. The course was a success and hopefully will be repreated for a third time next year.

Larry and Amy from DC showed up as well as Annie from West Newbury whose presence allowed the girls a break. We sampled another variety of gazpacho and then drove to Salem where we watched Axel shuffle up and down the hall. Progress again, further, steadier. Then they left me alone with Axel (“get into bed with him!” said Annie) and we started to talk, maybe for the first time, about the crash and my feelings. More tears, and also more admonishments to not go there. But I did and probably need to for some time. How can I not?

I can’t help making comparisons between the before and the after (the crash). I used to wake up at 5 AM. Axel used to comment on how instantly I turned ‘on’ in the morning, my brain springing into action, my body swinging itself out of bed, all in nanoseconds. Now it feels as if I slowly swim to the surface of awareness. With each inch that I get closer, I am getting also more conscious of the 1000 little aches as the body wakes up. Sometimes it takes me 30 minutes to wake up like that.

Yesterday Axel’s therapist Paul showed up, on Sita’s request. We sat outside looking at the Cove slowly filling in with the tide and I talked, cried, discovered while Paul mostly listened and from time to time pointed out things that I had overlooked. Such as, that in time of crisis or hardship (not really having experienced any trauma like this in my life), the first person I’d turn to is always the person who is my very best friend, Axel. Yet in these last 3 weeks he was the one person I had not spent even a second alone with. We could not hold each other; we couldn’t even talk privately as our two best sides matched up with his ear that could not hear. Try to have an intimate conversation when you have to communicate by shouting, with all sorts of caretakers and random hospital roommates around you.

When I asked Paul about the billing for this conversation he smiled and said, did you not read the conditions in my brochure? It says that for people who survived a plain crash I don’t send a bill. Thanks Paul, it was a most wonderful conversation.

Then came Jono, President of MSH, who discovered not only this most beautiful part of the world but also that the big stone house across the cover is the house of his college mate George Putnam III. We chatted while the Cove continued to fill up. Jono is no stranger to getting phone calls after work hours about staff and plane crashes, but luckily this one ended well. He has been cheering the three of us on from that fateful Saturday when he showed up in the hospital and he can only see progress. Thanks Jono for coming all the way to see me; I know time is precious to you and I deeply appreciate your gift of time and attention.

After a quick visit from the VNA nurse, who will discharge me next week as I return to my usual care provider in Manchester Tessa took me to see Axel. This was going to be the private visit while Joe and Sita and Tessa had lunch and their last powwow before Joe headed back to San Diego. Axel and I sat in our wheelchairs facing each other. It is a bit awkward, you can’t hold each other, or snuggle up with breastplates, plaster casts and fingers that don’t work on their own but we touched, held hands and cried a bit and then the private moment was over as doctors and therapist filed in and succeeded each other in quick succession with a focus on the needs of the body, rather than the mind. Nevertheless, all the things they talked about are very important to us, such as, will the nerve damage be for good or temporarily and how can we avoid a trip to Worcester.

After all, we had had our few moment together alone. We are changed now in that we are grateful for small mercies and our needs are simple. Just being together is a treat.

In the evening Sarah and Elena from work showed up with a delicious chicken/salmon salad, including wine for the girls and strawberries and cream, plus office stories and greetings from everyone.

Funny, only a month I was trying to lose some excess weight and now everyone is cheering me on (“mangi, mangi, mangi!”). Much emphasis on my GI system and the need to get those pounds back on. By the way, the news from the GI front is good, even though it is a battlefield of chemicals vying for victory, the white team putting the system to sleep and the yellow team rousing it to do its noisy and messy work. Yellow is slightly ahead!

It was a good day. Special thanks to our dear friends Carol and Chris from Seatttle/DC who provided for ongoing massage support for the caretakers just when we wondered how we could get that to continue. We are immensely grateful. The universe is providing to us with such abundance that it fills us with awe.

It is Thursday morning. Joe is leaving today, a piece of reality that I ignored until I saw him getting that ramp in yesterday without taking a break – as there was no break to spare. Then it hit me. Joe has been getting us through the transition from immediate disaster relief to project management and helping the girls organize (for) this unimagined new life for the next couple of months. They hadn’t expected to care for their parents just yet.

Joe, I don’t know how to thank you for what you have brought, value definitely, some levity, your understanding of networks and how to help them focus and provide value, tons of expertise in calamity management and an endless supply of love and patience. We are humbled by your selflessness and hate to see you go. Have a wonderful trip to Europe with Rita. We know you will follow us via this site. Thanks.

Ann Buxbaum came for a visit in the morning and helped me shower at the neighbors and after that we just sat and talked and gossiped in the way we have for nearly 20 years at MSH. She brought a sushi lunch which we ate outside. Later Abigail Axelrod, a massage therapist from Gloucester showed up and gave Sita and Tessa a badly needed yoga massage, to get their muscles to relax and some of that tension out. She will come back once a week to work with them.

My physical therapist showed up and discharged me after checking my use of the ramp and showing some more exercises. There is not much he can do with me until my cast comes off. I used the walker to hop from the sitting area in the yard to the bathroom inside and back, which is probably why I was completely exhausted by the time Tessa took off for Salem. I had planned to go with her but did not have the energy. I heard about Axel’s good progress from all those who saw him.

I successfully transferred my care from Worcester to local specialists and care givers and so I am pleased that I don’t have to make that trip again. We are still working on Axel who has been called in for a follow up in Worcester but we are making sure this is not going to happen and find him a spine doctor and other specialists locally with the help of Shaughnessy and our own family doctor.

Sometime in the morning a box with moldy stuff arrived from the FAA. An eerie sight: it contained our personal effects from the plane: Axel’s backpack and notebook, his camera, my cell phone, my flight bag and some clothes. I had given up on those and had already ordered a new cell phone. The camera contained the pictures from our day’s outing. It’s good that we don’t know our future. We all look so happy and are having such a good time! I will ask Sita to post these pictures on her Flickr site.

A rough night, waking up a lot, dreams which much movement, which had to do with having to get back to work and being driven by a boy scout on vacation who is having a fun time and not in the least concerned with me getting back to work. Alison, I did read your email and Skype and have not responded because I don’t know what to say, too overwhelmed by the questions and the realization that I am out of commission for awhile. Call me and ask me one question at a time and I will try to answer.

I cried, Birgit, when I read your posting in the guestbook this morning. Thank you so much (it was a good cry, of the blessed kind). Thanks to everyone for your continuing prayers and support and your writings in the guestbook, it is the first thing that I read in the morning and it props me up and gets me through those long early morning hours when the house and the world are so still.

Some moments I get a glimpse of this abyss or precipice. I shuffle close by, thinking I am ready to peak in and then I can’t, my brain wills my mind’s eye away. It is the abyss ‘of alternative outcomes.’ Why do I want to go there if we accomplished the most desirable of all outcomes is a mystery, but something is tugging at me.

There are a series of before/after images that play themselves out like a film: Axel and me putting our gear into the car that fateful Saturday, all excited about a new flying adventure. The departure from Beverly, the glorious day that was shining over Essex and neighboring counties. I think off the first trip in which I shuttled Morsi, Neveen and Ahmad from Gardner to Montagu, then flying back with Ahmad to pick Joan and Axel up. Everyone snapping pictures like crazy. It was such a wonderful day, I felt confident in the plane and if there was any hesitance on the side of Joan, Morsi and the kids, they were quickly able to enjoy the view from the sky. We had a great picnic at the Turner’s Falls airfield.

And then comes the part I want to rewind and do over. The part where I want to take the pilot error out. The part that changed everything (EVERYTHING). Images of us ‘stuck in the mud’ – how long it took for me to come to that momentous and most frightening realization: that we should/could have died in that crash, or one or two of us could have; how I screwed up and dragged our own and Joan’s family into this – and then trying to figure out what this ‘this’ is: a nightmare? An endless series of blessings? A costly mistake that will suck us all dry? An incredible burden placed on people I love so much? A series of pains (in the neck, in the gut, in the belly, in the ribs, in the arms, feet, hips, etc.)? A gigantic mess-up of Axel’s school and career plans, Joan and Morsi’s summer plans, Ahmad and Neveen’s dream trip to the US, etc.

The crash site, in my mind still has a yellow police ribbon around it which says ‘don’t go there.’ Part of me complies and another part is trying to sneak past it when no one is looking.

I can’t believe I wrote ‘contraception’ rather than ‘contraption.’ thanks for pointing that out Ann; clearly, we can’t help ourselves after so many years of editing and working in the field of reproductive health, the fingers typing the word on their own ignoring signals from the brain that another word was wanted.

Sita and I left at 7:15 AM for Worcester this morning and returned 11 hours later. We are both exhausted. It was an ordeal that I would like to spare Axel and Joan. Tomorrow we are going to find local orthopedes for myself and Axel in and around Beverly so that no one ever has to do this again.

My last stitches were taken out. Sita will probably be able to show for some time the imprint of my nails as I dug deep into her palms during the removal of my knee stitches (both sides). These stitches were left in for a full two weeks because of the placing of the scars. After two weeks the skin had almost completely healed over the stitches. The doctor was pleased. Now it’s just a matter of vitamin E and staying out of the sun. The belly incision has also healed well, much better than the scar of one of the young nurses at the fourth floor of UMMC who had had a similarly near fatal accident (in a car) some 13 years ago and offered good counsel and a view of her badly scarred belly.

I got a new cast, much lighter and fashionable. We had many choices: Hazard Orange, Neon Green, Barney Purple, OSHA Yellow, something that looks like the uniform of nursing aides (pastel hearts and happy faces), soccer balls, and Camouflage without or without the American flag. Sita and agreed immediately on Denim Blue to match my eyes. The cast maker was from Accra and we had a nice time talking about Ghana. He’s the first one who told me that he is going back to help his people. All the other West Africans we met at UMMC (mostly from Ghana and some from Nigeria) had no plans of returning to their broken health systems.

Not much to add to Joe’s narrative. He gave a faithful account of the day. Let me fill in the part between returning from Salem and this morning of the last day of July. A thousand whiplashes is what I am feeling this morning. Some days my body isn’t so prominent in my mind but this morning every movement I make hurts, no sharp pains, but sore sore sore everywhere.

We have so many different dishes in the refrigerator that we could have a daily menu offering many choices. I dined on Diane’s vichyssoise, Carol’s beans and fresh beets from Mary that Sook cooked. Joe had the pesto and pasta and Sita, Steve and Tessa are on another schedule. I don’t know when they eat or sleep. Sita came back with a car load of stuff which is being stuffed into the studio.

Thanks Caty for the zoethout tea and the heads up about the Dutch company. With my frequent flights through Schiphol I have managed to handcarry such items throughout the years.

Thanks for those of you who suggested workplaces for Steve and Jim, all sounds promising and they’ll follow up with you. Steve, being Canadian, has to sort out work permit issues we just realized, but Jim should be OK.

Today Sita and I are going on a road trip to Worcester. I am not looking forward to this, especially since we have to get on the road at rush hour for the Manchester-Turnpike stretch early morning. Thanks Bob Buxbaum for his suggestion of an abdominal binder. It is a very (very) watered down version of the plastic contraception that keeps Joand and Axel steady. It made the road trip to Salem more comfortable and will do the same today to Worcester.

I wll be seeing the orthopedic surgeon and the trauma folks at the surgical center. I hope they will open the cast and explore why I am having these pains in my heel. There is also an X-ray to be made of my right chest to check on the ribs and continuing pains there. Sita is going to get all our X-rays and scans and what not so that we can move our care to local doctors, so this should be the last of our trips to Worcester.

Arne from the flight center came over and helped me fill in the NTSB forms, all 9 pages of them, which included things like where the center of gravity was, what the pressure altitude was and annual inspections of the plane. Another mishap at the flight center (this one only serious for the plane, not the pilot) meant that they are two planes short after an accident-free existence for the longest time. Thanks Arne for helping me through this chore. We also talked about flying again and that I will need another checkride with an instructor before I am let loose again. Of course, I would not want it any other way.

Dear ones, near and far, thanks again for the outpouring of love and support. As you can read from our journal we are absorbing as much as we can for use right now and putting the rest in storage. Joe is sitting down with the girls to begin charting the next few months and moving us from being trauma victims to being a project for our daughters and sons-in-law. Caring, compassion and gushing love is always good but as a project we will need to be managed, a different set of skills, which requires planning, organizing, implementing and of course monitoring progress and evaluating what works and what is not. Thanks Joe for your guidance. I think MSH published a book about this, by the way!

Happy birthday Axel! I have the feeling that this is going to be a very different year than all the ones preceding this birthday. I am so grateful that we are all alive and on the mend. My mind sometimes drifts into contemplating the other unspeakable outcome (or anyone of a number of scenarios) of our failed landing, but then all my muscles contract as if to prevent access to this thought and I stop in my tracks.

Things are looking good, even through the veil of rain outside. It’s a droopy sort of day but I don’t feel droopy at all. Nurse Tessa is making my breakfast, counting my pills, making coffee and putting the finishing touches on Axel’s birthday cake…wonder woman!

I went to bed after watching Miss Marple in Bertram’s Hotel with Tessa. Right there two accomplishments: watching through an entire movie without asking Tessa too often for extra explanations, and going to bed at 10:30. Tessa massaged my hands and shoulders, a treat each time. I took the triple dose of Oxycontin and had a painless night as a result although I keep waking up many times. For a habitually sound sleeper like me these cut up nights are still hard to handle.

I spent several hours with Axel at the rehab on Sunday and saw him progress from sitting up in bed to standing up in a walker and finally sitting down in a wheelchair, all this without fainting or sweat drops on his brow. A true pirate, patch firmly in place.

In the meantime Tessa’s Steve with his friend Roy were building a mini-ramp that will allow me to get in and out of my bedroom on my own. The threshold is about one inch high and the ramp is an elaborate construction from shingles that have been fiber glassed for strength. There is another set of ramps that need to be built later which would allow me to go outside and then back in again. I’d have to bridge 8 inches, a dazzling height for me at this point.

Jim and Steve have both changed their (summer) plans so that they can be with us. Jim is giving up his job in Amherst by moving into the studio across the driveway with Sita and Steve wants to postpone his return to Canada as long as possible so he can support Tessa. As a result both are without income. If anyone in the Essex county area can think of work that could provide them with some revenue while they are here, I would be so very grateful. They are caring for me and Axel as if they are our sons and they are providing support to Sita and Tessa in ways that no one else can. Steve is looking for work for the month of August. He prefers working outside; he loves animals, and is strong as a horse. Jim will need work that continues after Labor Day.

Glad to read another contributor to the journal and more eye witness reports about Axel. His computer is also in rehab but as soon as it returns I hope that Axel himself can start to post. For now Joe or Tessa or Sita will do that for him.

Yesterday I wrote about the two necklaces. There are a few big and prominent beads on the necklace of sighs and disappointments which I did not mention because they are so hard for me to look at and describe. These are the beads that represent Axel, Joan, Morsi and Neveen and Ahmad (Morsi’s children). Something momentous has happened in their lives for which I am responsible. This is as far as I can go with it, now. (By the way, they are also beads on the necklace of blessings, where I can look them more squarely in the face).

The first few days after the accident I had this movie playing in my head and I was trying to give it another ending. This compulsion has stopped now. The movie still starts sometime but then I physically turn my head away – I don”t want to see what happens next.

One of these days I have to tackle the big brown manilla envelope which contains the paperwork that I need to fill in for the NTSB. I have asked Arne from the Beverly Flight Center to assist me in this. Arne, I think the time has come to do this, what about Monday?

The plane(wreck) is in Maine somewhere. Suddenly it had left Gardner airport, before Jim was able to get our belongings out. (I am especially anxious to get Axel his backpack with his notebook and camera back. As you know he did not travel anywhere without these two items.)

Antony from Baku had asked what about the plane….well, it is a wreck. If you google my name plus words like small airplane crash and/or Gardner airport you will see that question answered quite clearly.

The night is still cut up in countless half hour segments through which I move in slow motion. I have given up on getting the pain medication right. I should have known that there are constantly changing dynamics in my body and between my body and mind, which makes settling on one fixed dose impossible. Nurse Tessa is doing her best but here no one can advise me I fear.

I am going to visit Axel this morning. We had a plan to visit him yesterday but my body tends to be at the end of its rope by the time 6 PM rolls around and protests against even the most minor challenges. A road trip to Salem seemed like a cross country trip.

Tomorrow is Axel’s 61st birthday. I have a lot to be thankful for.

I was very aware of the end of the graduation ceremony of the BU course yesterday. Here I am listed as faculty and never showed up. Another disappointment among so many others, the things I cannot do, we cannot do, have to cancel/postpone, mourn, etc. It’s like a necklace, each bead comes with a sigh: the Bastille party at Anne and Chuck, the cookout at our house with the BU students that was to take place the 15th, the salsa dancing at Castle Hill, Flying to Martha’s Vineyard, with Axel and Andrew, a tour over Essex county with Karen and Sarah, kayaking with Axel and the St. Johns, followed by a mussel meal on our beach, tending the garden and picking its goodies, picking the ripest raspberries just minutes before the chipmunks show up before going to work at 6 AM, etc.

There is another necklace that has mostly covered up the one made up of disappointments and that is the one with the blessings. Each bead is one blessing. It is an enormously long necklace: the bog and trees that broke our fall, the rescue teams that got us to the hospital, the resilience and strength of our bodies, our daughters and their mates, our families, the many friends and acquaintances who are rooting, praying, cooking, driving etc. for us, Blue Cross Blue Shield, MSH, my many colleagues and friends in far away places, the Beverly Flight Center staff, our neighbors, the Gloucester Visiting Nurses, etc. This necklace is on top!

I am full of anticipation for this day, which brings week two of our recovery to and end. I am celebrating Axel’s transfer to Salem and hope to see him later. Sita went back to Amherst to take care of her own life for the weekend, make some music and pack up for the move to Lobster Cover. Tessa has taken over the RN role and is learning about dosage and pain medication while Steve is busy setting up the pen for Tessa’s rabbit Nijntje so we can all be together again.

I had a visit early (Friday) morning from Judy Seltzer, beating traffic all the way from Ashland, we had a nice time while the rest of the household was in deep sleep. I had my first cup of coffee since the accident. Another first, sitting outside at the end of the day, a glorious evening at lobster cover, I sipped a pretend beer (O’Doul) and it tasted like a real beer. I am surely but steadily getting better!