Sylvia's Journal

Axel got up early to drive me to my new office for my first appearance there, but also my last for a while. I won’t be back until February 12 which seems a long way off. Next time I come here I should be walking without crutches which I plan to leave behind in Afghanistan.

Axel was probably as curious as I was about the new location, the new commute and my new digs. Still getting up early to commute someone else to work is pretty nice. He’s been the best nurse, cook and bottle washer one could imagine over the last 7 weeks. By the time I come back I should be able to take back some of the chores when I am two-legged again.

The office is nice for extraverts and a little challenging for introverts. It’s one big office garden with light coming through enormous windows from all sides – an artist’s paradise. I felt my spirits lifted the moment I stepped in. I am on the outer band (bank?) of cubicles, looking out over the Tufts Boathouse, just a few yards away and behind it the river. It’s a better view than from our Cambridge location because I had to standup to look out of my window there. Here light and view is a common good, everyone has it. Only one office has no glass walls – it will be our meditation room every Tuesday from 12 to 1. And I suppose the lactation room is a bit more private but I wouldn’t know where it was.

There are only a few people with offices, mostly the top 10 people and a few directors who need privacy because of their work. But even those offices are transparent, with floor to ceiling glass walls only the entrance door is not – there is no hiding, no unnoticed nose picking, yawning or playing cards – we preach transparency and now we practice it as well.

I unpacked two of my three moving crates – everything is on wheels so this was easy. One crate is left. It is full of 27 years of pictures and negatives documenting my MSH journey as well as many of my fellow travelers over the years. There are a few left of those I started with; they can be counted on the fingers of one hand.

I don’t know where to put these pictures. we were all given very little storage room which is a good thing in this age of electronic files. Most of my physical files are nostalgic remnants from my early years at MSH; documents that makes me realize how far we have progressed.

The limited storage space is intentional. We were supposed to have uncluttered ourselves before the move but I never got around that before the operation. It’s a chore for when I have nothing else to do – sorting through everything, to keep or not to keep. Such things are difficult. Sita gave us a book for Christmas that is written by an ‘unclutter coach’ – I had no idea that that is a coaching niche. Clever!

While I am getting used to my freed new ankle, the reality of my upcoming travel to Afghanistan has begun to set in – practical things so as how to carry things when on crutches and only allowed 50% of my (usual) weight on the left side.

The good thing is that business class travel has been approved and a ticket is being purchased. I should have no worries while on the plane – but it is the spaces and times in between that concern me a bit. I have asked for wheelchair assistance and trying to imagine if I ever saw a wheelchair at Kabul airport. And would I be parked for several hours in a wheelchair outside a gate? Would there be someone to push me to the bathroom if I need to go or leave my stuff with? And what stuff should I hand carry – not the usual heavy backpack probably. I have all these questions one never thinks about when both legs are working.

Packing for my trip is also going to be a bit of a challenge. Usually I make multiple trips up and down the stairs, carrying stuff this way and that. I have to be a lot more organized and, with this in mind, have started to make lists. It’s winter in Afghanistan, which is always a more complicated packing task and also makes for a heavier suitcase than usual.
I feel I am making some progress on the healing. Only occasionally does my ankle hurt, mostly my leg is stiff and weak. I am practicing walking, with 5 to 10% of my weight on the foot (presumably my level of comfort will tell when I am going over 10%). And each time I get up I have to decide, scooter or crutches?

We started 2014 with a whopping snowstorm which has left us 2 feet under. A front loader was needed to clean our driveway; ordinary snow plows attached to a truck no longer sufficient. It made for a cozy time inside and productive workdays thanks to the power lines holding the weight of the snow. The cove is a cauldron, waves of 4 to 6 meters and a very high tide submerged parts not usually submerged. We hope we didn’t lose more land – we won’t find out until spring, when the storms subside.

The pink cast was sawed off by what looked like a stick blender with a small circular saw. I couldn’t see any safety device that would keep it from going through the cast, the cotton layers underneath and then in my leg.

The young assistant who did the sawing giggled at my nervousness, assuring me that it was safe. But I was not convinced, especially when I could feel the pressure of the metal on the cotton, pushing into my leg. Her supervisor, I assume, came to check in on her and took over the job, maybe she was too careful. The supervisor pushed harder on the saw and I could feel more pressure on the cotton. I forgot to breathe, Axel discovered from across the room, documenting the whole process on his iPhone.

And then out came the shriveled leg with its skin looking like old parchment. The purple markings of where to cut where still as clear as they were on surgery day. The place that had felt like it was jabbed by an icepick for the last 6 weeks was unblemished – the jabbing had been done from the inside by nerves frantic looking for new pathways. The loss of sensation on the left side of my foot has diminished only slightly. We were told it was to be expected and would continue to diminish over time. I know the self-healing power of nerves from watching Axel’s limp left arm and hand come to life slowly over a year after the accident.

I have now entered phase 3 of the ankle fusion process: six more weeks in an orthopedic boot with increasing levels of weight bearing: 25% the next 7 days; 50% the week after and then gradually to full weight bearing.

This means the crutches and knee scooter are still important aids apart from the boot – no standing or walking without a boot until mid-February. It also means that I will have to travel with crutches to Afghanistan, 8 days from now. It was not quite what I had planned but it is too late to turn back, unless the business class upgrade that I requested is disapproved by our benefits manager. In that case I will stay home and continue the healing here.

Four more days, and soon I will be counting the hours till cast off. The last 8 days went fast, as expected, because of the Christmas distraction.

The day before Christmas Eve everyone arrived from Dorchester and Easthampton. Furniture was pushed to the walls to make room for the Christmas tree plus Faro and the two dogs, allowing just a little opening for me on my scooter.

We celebrated Christerklaas, starting at 11 PM on Christmas Eve, one hour earlier than usual. Despite last minute signs and groans about not being able to do much this year, everyone pulled through with poems (or prose in some cases), fantastic constructions as fake presents pointing to the real thing.

The gifts and poems this year were about cooking, knitting, and feasting the eyes this earth’s amazing landscapes, plus some chocolate on the side. The center piece for Faro was a shiny black baby grand piano, various trucks and books for opa and oma to read to him (we are currently quite taken with David Wiesner (Tuesday, Flotsam, June 29, 1999).

By 1:30 AM enough of us were yawning to suspend the festivities. We have exhausted young parents in our midst now – no matter how late they go to bed, Faro will wake them up at about 7:30 AM at the latest. We had only made a small dent in the pile of presents under the tree and the poems dangling from its branches.

We continued late the next day, Christmas Day, when everyone had emerged from their various quarters and Faro was fed and ready for his nap. Axel and I gave each other ‘non-thing’ presents – a massage and a two day trip to Maine with a visit to Axel’s favorite museum in Rockport and maybe a side trip, if we can swing it, to one of Axel’s Afghan student who came up from New Mexico to visit his American parents for the holidays.

Tessa, Steve and the dogs have returned to Dorchester, leaving us to enjoy a few more days of Faro and his parents before they too return to their home, after a visit to the New England Aquarium on Sunday morning. By then, I am sure, time will slow down again, but then I will be down to 48 hours.

In the meantime my office has moved from its prime Cambridge location on Memorial Drive to Boston’s northern suburb of Medford – a shorter commute for me in distance; no longer require traversing the Tobin Bridge into the city. Next week I will start experimenting with the best route.

Twelve more days was the first thought that came to mind when I woke up. The twelve days till cast off include some days that will go by very fast, like next week.

I continue to work full time from my command center, holding several balls up in the air – each ball requiring much reading, much thinking, much organizing.

Outside working hours I relax knitting and sewing things for Faro – it’s nice to have a small object like him for my projects – none takes long enough to get boring. All will be wrapped up for Christmas. Faro’s needs and non needs (non things) can be crossed off the list. My hunch is that most of his wishes are non things, like learning the alphabet, the names of birds and things in the sky other than moons and seeing his oma and opa on Skype.

I try to catch him on Skype at dinner time. We go over food groups and he gets to practice whatever new words his parents have taught him. His mind is like a sponge, with terabytes of space on his developing hard drive. On the outside I see him growing in height, weight and sprouting more hair every day. I can’t wait to see him in a few days.

In the meantime I am learning to navigate frozen ground and made a few outings in spite of the winter weather. I can in and out of houses and up and down steps with the help of strong helpers and my own hardening biceps. The left leg however is showing signs of atrophy – how quick the muscles lose their tone.

The plastic sleeve that is supposed to keep my leg dry under the shower, and is based on an entrance that should be (and was) narrower than my thigh, is no longer providing a waterproof seal. As a result I have to shower with my leg up against the shower stall wall, ballerina like.

I ventured down into the basement where supplies are kept that were no longer available upstairs and Axel was away. With the help of an old wooden lacrosse stick, serving as a crutch, I was able to hop across the cellar floor and get what I needed. It is amazing what one can do on one leg when there is a need.

I am working on my early spring travel schedule which kicks off with a month long trip to Kabul. Subsequent trips to Uganda and Malawi are somewhat in conflict and I am negotiating with various stakeholders that are not beholden to one another.

I have scheduled three PT sessions as soon as my cast is off in the first week of January. I will be on my own for over a month after that. Although I am familiar with the PT place in Kabul (they still should have my card in their files) I don’t think I will go there this time as my time is all accounted for by four different assignments.

I have just reached the halfway mark of my non-weight-bearing left leg condition. Every morning I calculate the days remaining till ‘cast off.’

The nerve action in my left foot is subsiding a bit which makes me think that the persistent nerve cells have found passages through the altered terrain of my left ankle. One particular point remains tender, as if an icepick is applied on it over and over again. It chafes on the cotton wads that protect my foot and leg from the unforgiving cast. But I don’t want to know what’s going on there – 18 more days and all will be revealed.

I have learned to be quite self-sufficient, showing once more our species’ resilience and adaptability. I can get up and down the stairs, dress and undress, shower, make meals all by myself. Still, Axel is doing double duty, especially when it comes to getting things for which one needs a car. I had had some illusion that by now I could drive myself to work, getting my scooter in and out of the car by myself – but that is not going to happen.

This working from home business has some nice side effects:

-I don’t have to get up at 4:30 AM three days a week and enjoy the luxury of sleeping till 7 every day and seeing my husband before the end of the day.
-I don’t have to do the Christmas commute from hell, which is the entire month of December, passing three major shopping centers to and from work with no alternative routes available.
-I can knit while listening to presentations or participate in teleconferences. As a result I have knitted a pair of socks for Faro to wear in his tiny Dutch clogs and nearly finished a sweater.
-I have been given several writing and review tasks which I have completed in record time as there are no distractions from commutes, in person meetings or walk-ins for gossip or chats with colleagues.
-I am not snacking on cookies, donuts and chocolates which are usually parked right outside my office.

I celebrated my 62nd birthday with a full day out of the house. Among the gifts I received were a neon pink cast and a box of Godiva truffles. The cast will stay on until the 31st of this month; the truffles are gone. I put myself on a diet of no more than 4 truffles a day. These are the things one never buys for oneself (a) because it’s such an indulgence and (b) they would blow a weightwatcher’s point allotment for the entire week. Not that I am on WW right now – I am on a vacation of sorts – but the cream and butter content is not good for my brain, I just learned from watching Daniel Amen on TedX.

The neural activity in my foot, according to the doctor, was a little odd but then again, the ankle was severely traumatized, what with the three enormous deck screws sticking out of the joint. I imagine the nerve cells frantically trying to find a new passage now that the previous one is blocked. Sometimes they appear to be sending out SOS signals to the other ankle, as if to check whether their comrades on the right side have some suggestions.

My new cast is lighter and smaller but no longer soft to the touch which makes the scooting less comfortable. On Tuesday I scooted around my office and even on the streets of Cambridge, leaving my shin rather sore. Scooting on brick or uneven pavement turned out to be a bit hazardous. City dwellers do well to get the all-terrain version of the scooter, as the small wheels get stuck in small ridges and with the center of gravity so high, a forward wheelie is too easy. I caught two of them in the nick of time.

We celebrated my birthday with Tessa in the restaurant of a colleague’s sister. We splurged by taking one thing from each category on the menu: snacks, cocktails, appetizers, main meal, dessert, cookies, wine and then the restaurant added sea salt caramels to complete the experience. Tessa paid half the bill. It is nice when your kids start to take you out.

I manage to be mostly back on a full work schedule from my recliner base. I moved my kidney shaped desk on wheels out of my office and am holding court in the living room with work, knitting and reading all within easy reach. Axel attends to my wishes by cooking and serving meals, though I can handle breakfast on my own, including making tea. I just can’t transport things all that well and eat in the kitchen, standing on one leg with the other resting on the scooter. 

One advantage of scheduling my surgery and recovery over several holidays is that the days go too fast. I usually don’t like this but now, moving fast towards December 31 is of great interest to me. It is a bit like meals on a long flight – the distraction makes you forget about time’s passing.

And so I have come out on the other side of the Thanksgiving Holiday, not just thankful for a great, and noisy, 5 days, but also closer to December 3 when the first post-op phase ends and the second one, the full cast phase, starts. I hope that cast will be slimmer and lighter. I also hope to find out whether full sensation has returned to my left foot, something I am not entirely sure about. There has been much neural activity in my left foot but also some parts that still seem to be numb. That, I believe, is not as planned.

Tomorrow the stitches will come out and I can stop self-injecting myself and switch to aspirin to stave off blood clots. That will be a relief. My belly shows the bruises of injections not done all that well.

Tomorrow will also be the first day I am going to work, right after the new cast, since I am in the neighborhood and I have a willing chauffeur. I will get to show off my new cast and knee walker, a contraption still very few people know about. I don’t think knee walkers (or scooters) existed when I had my other leg in a cast, now more than 6 years ago.

On doctors’, family, colleagues’ and friends’ orders I closed my computer over the holidays, hence no blog postings and no email readings for several days in a row. I knitted (and am still knitting) various items for Faro and made two Oshkosh type pants out of one of Tessa’s old jeans and Axel’s rib cords from the 60s.

One of the MSH teams I sit on sent me an orchid by mail. The UPS driver carried the tall package carefully inside and Axel continued obeying the ‘Fragile’ and ‘This side Up’ stickers. A beautiful blooming orchid emerged – imagine that, all the way from California by mail! A second box with well wishing candles, beautifully packaged came along. Axel wondered whether I had been sitting in my chair ordering stuff, but I hadn’t and it was a great surprise and I was quite touched by it all.