Sylvia's Journal

One week into my 64^th year I am settling in to a long routine, uninterrupted by travel. As it stands now my first trip is to Ethiopia at the end of January which I will precede or end with another overnight in Holland, this time at my oldest brother’s new home. Some of us are entering new stages in our lives; moving towards 64 doesn’t seem to be much of a new stage – I am not retiring and not moving.

The Ebola swat and swot teams are taking a considerable amount of my time. I am learning why Uganda, Nigeria, Mali and Senegal have been successful and avoided the many wrong turns that Sierra Leone, Guinea and Liberia took. 18500 contacts were traced in Nigeria – a lot, but apparently still doable – and the progress of the disease was halted. After years of investing in health systems in those countries it was good to find out that something worked.  It is also good to focus on what has worked as opposed to the finger pointing and blaming that gets picked up by the media.

I am back home from a ‘weather horibilis’ ride in, and then 10 hours later back home, from work. It has been raining cats and dogs, accompanied by heavy winds and icing early in the morning. It is the kind of stressful drive that makes one understand snowbirds retiring in the southern states. What makes it worse is that the otherwise soothing classical music that increases my tolerance for traffic challenges, is interrupted constantly by requests for donations to the member-supported station while the news is, if not distressing, then at least boring and repetitive if one’s commute is longer than one hour.

When I finally emerged out of the car, exhausted and stiff, I requested a stiff drink which Axel, my chief cook, bottlewasher and mixologist promptly produced: a sake martini which I am now sipping as I come back to myself and watch him prepare part 2 of the evening, a roasted garlic chicken with vegetables and fettucini. I am so blessed.

On Wednesday, while I was turning 63, my niece had a baby starting its first year on this planet. Between my brother’s family and mine, we have a bunch of birthdays bunched together, all sagitarii.

That was my first present, which was followed by Axel waking up at 5 AM, quite a feat, and preparing me breakfast with our ritual, but never the same, breakfast table decorations.

Although I was in the office, I used the first two hours off as vacation to attend to the birthday greetings and wishes from wide and far, with some surprising messages from people I have not seen or heard from in a long time, shuffling between Skype and Facebook. In the olden days it was postcards, I remember the excitement as a kid.

My next present was the news that one of my colleagues with whom I work a lot will move into a shared cubicle with me as another leaves to join another part of MSH.

I drove back through a drizzle, then heavy rain – it’s rarely nice weather on my birthday – to find Axel cooking my birthday dinner, a Peruvian fish stew with mussels cultivated in Chili, packed in Thailand and bought in the US. On the back of the package was a recipe for ‘gebakken mosselen’ (baked mussels) from Holland. We certainly live in an interdependent world!

The presents kept on coming. Axel had bought me Novak’s The Book Without Pictures which I look forward to read to/with Faro. Novak is the creator of the American Office and knows how to make people, big and small, laugh.

And then we watched another Poirot episode, I made another batch of Christmas mustard and the birthday was over. I have started my 64th year which I initiated by listening to ‘When I’ am Sixty Four’ on my morning ride into work.

On Friday night and then Saturday we joined first one set and then another of Sita’s in-laws for dinner, for variations on Thanksgiving. It snowed again and then froze which produced a nasty fall and a bruised arm. I made an appointment with the shoulder doctor to make sure I did not tear yet another rotator cuff tendon.

On Saturday night, after Thanksgiving, Tessa and Steve got their electricity back. And thus, on Sunday morning early, with the uncooked turkey in the back, we returned to New Hampshire for a second try at Thanksgiving.

Sita, Jim and Faro were not able to join, so it was a somewhat incomplete Thanksgiving, but still with lots of thanks to go around.

While everything was bubbling and cooking we played one round of ‘The Settlers of Catan,’ our favorite family game with basic and extension sets at Sita’s and Tessa’s home, so whenever we are together we can play, the old fashioned way of sitting around a board game.

After our copious meal (made for 6 but consumed by 4) we left with lots of leftovers in containers.

Tessa had been preparing for weeks for her first official function at her new house: Thanksgiving for her parents, sister and brother-in-law and nephew. It was meant to be a spectacular event with guests arriving the day before and a plan for outings the day after.

On Wednesday we drove to Pembroke (NH) in a snowstorm that left the North Shore with a dusting but covered New Hampshire with a whopping 10 inches if not more of heavy wet snow that crushed trees and dropped limbs on power lines. At 3 PM the electricity flickered and at 4 it was out. The outage affected hundreds of thousands of NH families which would have to do without their turkeys, unless they had gas-powered barbecues and a sheltered outdoor space to operate it. These same families also had to do without the traditional watching of games on TV. In addition, phone, computer and iPad batteries would be worn out before Thanksgiving Day. People would have to talk to one another without the crutches of electronic entertainment.

At Tessa’s house no electricity also means no water as it is pumped out of a well. So here we were 6 adults and one toddler, no electricity, no water (meaning also no flushing of toilets). Luckily the wood fired stove kept us warm and toasty and allowed for melting of snow to provide us with drinking water. The stove surface was large enough and hot enough, to cook bacon and eggs, but not a turkey or any of the other trimmings so carefully selected and prepared by Tessa. It was a huge disappointment.

We ventured out into the snowy landscape which was beautiful and very photogenic; but lacking skies and good outdoor gear, plus a hyperactive toddler who wanted to be carried by his exhausted parents, the escape from the house was a short one. Back inside we acknowledged that this would not be the Thanksgiving we had planned and considered an earlier return to our home, with its water and electricity. Less than twenty-four hours after the disappearance of electricity we gave up and returned home with the large uncooked turkey, ending our Thanksgiving, leaving a very disappointed hostess behind. It was heartbreaking.

Tessa and Steve choose to stay and ride out the power outage – hoping (though knowing the odds) – that the electricity would come back soon. So far it hasn’t and they are beginning to wonder about showers and the content of their freezer. Luckily they are young, have heat, water in 10 gallon containers and a supply of Dutch cheese and licorice. It reminded us how much we take water, heat and electricity for granted and how much these utilities determine our comfort. Nevertheless, the short time we had together, the 7 of us, left us most thankful for each other, our girls, their mates and our most delightful grandson.

Today, exactly 28 years ago that I joined MSH, the week of Thanksgiving, my first three days of work. At that time I had no idea what career I wanted and was happy to simply have a job. Tessa was just over a year old and Sita had just turned 6. Axel was full time employed and traveled a lot, much like I do now. It was a challenge and my diary is full of pages describing how I managed: sometimes good and sometimes only with a lot of tears and anxiety.

When I look at my own daughters, even though one only has dogs rather than children, I am happy to notice that they are doing better than I did. And I believe I managed a little better than my mom did. This must be evolution.

In my week of work I greeted and then said goodbye to my boss who traveled for the next month, leaving me the supervision of two senior consultants and the very vague task of making sure they fulfilled the terms of their contract. I ended up sitting at their feet and extracting as much learning from them as I could. The seeds for my career were planted right there and then.

This month, the 21^st to be precise, also marked the one year anniversary of my ankle fusion. The bones are fully fused, have been for some time now. I have learned to live with the consequences: no more inflammation causing unbearable pain when simply walking short distances. But all this at some cost: stiffness which, when I forget to do my morning exercises, has me hobbling (painless but hobbling nevertheless) when I leave my bed. Uneven terrain remains problematic, such as the woods in back of Tessa’s house or our lawn descending to the beach. But on asphalt or hard surfaces I do fine and no one can tell.