Countdown: 12 days, says it all.
Overwhelmed. Tasks, preparation, details, paperwork, apprehension, anxious goodbyes. And a lot of people to miss, even before departing. I find it impossible to write about the big things and feelings. I am filled with such varied emotions, yet haven't the skills to describe them... much less to handle them.
Steve is taking the brunt of my anxiety. The rest of you, my sadness at being away for so long. Celia and I can handle the excited part. Thanks to everyone for putting up with the emotional turmoil while continuing to be so encouraging.
What can I write about? The details.
Today, insurance and taxes. (Probably tomorrow and the next day and the next, also.) Turns out that for a small fee, my current insurance will cover equipment, too. (Thank you, Anne, for the excellent idea.) However, I need to document each item. Not so easy. Between inefficient record keeping and the great basement flood of 2009, it's unclear how much documentation I can provide. I've been sorting papers all day today, and will continue this evening to see what I can produce. Then I'll throw myself on the mercy of the adjusters on high.
And, of course, there are a thousand other things, but thinking about them is tougher than doing them. So far, stuff gets done every day. It had better be complete in 12 days.
This is a completely new experience for me and I can't help questioning myself, my skills, abilities, flexibility, everything needed to travel far from home for a very long time. In other words, I'm scared. But I'm also very excited and looking forward to the adventure. And I hate being so far from those who are important to me.
See the conflicting mess of emotion? Ugh.
Off to sift through more paper (done with the digital docs). I miss you all already. And I'm still here.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Shots and Equipment Registration
Planning, sorting, organizing, paperwork, equipment checks, connecting with friends, and so much more. I suppose the huge amount of work to do before we go is helpful quelling all the emotions around this adventure.
I already miss everyone. I feel badly for the boys as I take everything they say and do too seriously, imagining all the time I won't see them. They are turning into such amazing young men and I hate to miss a moment of it. But I will.
C is trying to help by taking care of her responsibilities before we leave. But she's still young. I know how stressed I am right now. I can't imagine being 13 and handing all this. At the same time, we are both very excited.
Yesterday afternoon, we went to Northwest Community Hospital's travel clinic. (I highly recommend them. They were the only ones who could help me get Yellow Fever vaccine instantly before the Chad trip last year.) C really lucked out. She doesn't do needles well. She had to have a blood test (required by Fulbright for reaction to malaria meds), but only one immunization shot. So yesterday she had hepatitis A. Due to her small size, she can have the pediatric dose, so she doesn't need the second for at least six months. Then she'll have lifetime immunization... (unless it changes).
Then we drove to the Homeland Security facility in Chicago for Customs check of my equipment. I did this prior to the first India trip and had the form with me for Africa last year. Unfortunately, I lost it in Africa. Not a huge problem as I have much additional stuff now. The process involves completing this little Customs form, bringing the form and all your equipment to a site that can verify it.
Last night it was snowing, so the traffic was unpleasant, but this Homeland Security building is opened until 8 pm, so it wasn't a crisis. The problem was that the online-form CBP-4457 doesn't indicate that one needs to include the serial numbers on the form. [I got the link to the form as I was writing this and it DOES have the s/n requirement. The one I downloaded YESTERDAY didn't. And, in case you're wondering, the CBP officer agreed that it doesn't say so on the web. How weird?!]
Luckily, the Customs official on duty was a real star. He suggested I get them and come back next week since I'm not leaving immediately. When I told him it had been an hour drive to get there he suggested I write the s/n for each item next to it's description on each form (in very small print). This took ages, during which C lay down on the only bench and practiced waiting - something we're sure to experience in India.
Not only was the officer patient with this process, which took about half an hour, but he helped me by re-assembling devices requiring battery removal to find the s/n. Here's a man that wasn't missing any of the necessary checks. At the same time, he is a gentleman, patient, vigilant.
Yet another person acting in a way that suggests everything is not only okay, but quite good.
I still am not entirely comfortable with the Homeland Security bureaucracy as the best strategy for protecting us all. But I know they are staffed by really good people. So maybe the structure of the bureaucracy isn't so important.
I already miss everyone. I feel badly for the boys as I take everything they say and do too seriously, imagining all the time I won't see them. They are turning into such amazing young men and I hate to miss a moment of it. But I will.
C is trying to help by taking care of her responsibilities before we leave. But she's still young. I know how stressed I am right now. I can't imagine being 13 and handing all this. At the same time, we are both very excited.
Yesterday afternoon, we went to Northwest Community Hospital's travel clinic. (I highly recommend them. They were the only ones who could help me get Yellow Fever vaccine instantly before the Chad trip last year.) C really lucked out. She doesn't do needles well. She had to have a blood test (required by Fulbright for reaction to malaria meds), but only one immunization shot. So yesterday she had hepatitis A. Due to her small size, she can have the pediatric dose, so she doesn't need the second for at least six months. Then she'll have lifetime immunization... (unless it changes).
Then we drove to the Homeland Security facility in Chicago for Customs check of my equipment. I did this prior to the first India trip and had the form with me for Africa last year. Unfortunately, I lost it in Africa. Not a huge problem as I have much additional stuff now. The process involves completing this little Customs form, bringing the form and all your equipment to a site that can verify it.
Last night it was snowing, so the traffic was unpleasant, but this Homeland Security building is opened until 8 pm, so it wasn't a crisis. The problem was that the online-form CBP-4457 doesn't indicate that one needs to include the serial numbers on the form. [I got the link to the form as I was writing this and it DOES have the s/n requirement. The one I downloaded YESTERDAY didn't. And, in case you're wondering, the CBP officer agreed that it doesn't say so on the web. How weird?!]
Luckily, the Customs official on duty was a real star. He suggested I get them and come back next week since I'm not leaving immediately. When I told him it had been an hour drive to get there he suggested I write the s/n for each item next to it's description on each form (in very small print). This took ages, during which C lay down on the only bench and practiced waiting - something we're sure to experience in India.
Not only was the officer patient with this process, which took about half an hour, but he helped me by re-assembling devices requiring battery removal to find the s/n. Here's a man that wasn't missing any of the necessary checks. At the same time, he is a gentleman, patient, vigilant.
Yet another person acting in a way that suggests everything is not only okay, but quite good.
I still am not entirely comfortable with the Homeland Security bureaucracy as the best strategy for protecting us all. But I know they are staffed by really good people. So maybe the structure of the bureaucracy isn't so important.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Back in Illinois
Wonderful, and always too short, stay in NYC. Easy trip back to Illinois. We're fine and will continue moving ahead with everything (at least parts of everything) we need to do.
Here, however, S seem to be coming down with something. He says he's not, but this Mama won't take "I'm fine" for an answer. Of course he's fine. He's fine and has a cold. And that's not fine. Right?
Jack (dog) is having trouble also. We're not sure what is up, but he's not right. I've been poking him and checking him all evening, but he won't tell me what's up. My first (dog) love, Tally, always got very weird before I traveled. Sometimes even acting ill. Best case scenario: Jack is sensing that things are about to be very different around here. Still, I think Steve or I will take him to the vet... no problem, since we all have so much free time.
On the India front, Fulbright sent C's medical clearance. She's okay-ed for travel, but they say I still have to have her G6PD blood test (malaria med tolerance). Not so! She did it before her physical. I was there. Then I looked over the document the Doc sent. Sure she had the blood test. But they omitted it from the report. One more thing for my list: Get the blood test results, send to CIES, confirm they received it, have it attached to her med clearance, follow up... And, did I mention that my clearance isn't done yet because my med forms were misplaced (in Illinois, not in DC).
I may whine about the endless chasing after paper lately, but these errors and omissions stem from those submitting the forms. The recent mistakes making me crazy are happening long before anyone official gets involved. The program folks are the ones telling me what everyone else messed up, which sort of goes against the stereotypical complaint about government bureaucracy creating problems. So far, the mistakes all occur long before any public employee gets involved.
Not to belabor the point, but... my physical form was filled out and detailed lab and other test data were attached (though it took many phone calls and trips to the office to get them sent out). And only one question on the onerously-long form was left out: Candidate has no health conditions prohibiting her from travel? Only one question missing. Unfortunately, it's the bottom line. Oh, well. I'd have been asleep by that one if I'd been responsible for completing the form.
Enough complaining. I'm going to see if I can convince S to let me do what comes naturally: worry about his sniffle. Then I'm off to bed, so today is done. That means: 17 days. (It's scary to even type such a small number.)
Last thing: better maps coming soon (read: when I get a sec).
Here, however, S seem to be coming down with something. He says he's not, but this Mama won't take "I'm fine" for an answer. Of course he's fine. He's fine and has a cold. And that's not fine. Right?
Jack (dog) is having trouble also. We're not sure what is up, but he's not right. I've been poking him and checking him all evening, but he won't tell me what's up. My first (dog) love, Tally, always got very weird before I traveled. Sometimes even acting ill. Best case scenario: Jack is sensing that things are about to be very different around here. Still, I think Steve or I will take him to the vet... no problem, since we all have so much free time.
On the India front, Fulbright sent C's medical clearance. She's okay-ed for travel, but they say I still have to have her G6PD blood test (malaria med tolerance). Not so! She did it before her physical. I was there. Then I looked over the document the Doc sent. Sure she had the blood test. But they omitted it from the report. One more thing for my list: Get the blood test results, send to CIES, confirm they received it, have it attached to her med clearance, follow up... And, did I mention that my clearance isn't done yet because my med forms were misplaced (in Illinois, not in DC).
I may whine about the endless chasing after paper lately, but these errors and omissions stem from those submitting the forms. The recent mistakes making me crazy are happening long before anyone official gets involved. The program folks are the ones telling me what everyone else messed up, which sort of goes against the stereotypical complaint about government bureaucracy creating problems. So far, the mistakes all occur long before any public employee gets involved.
Not to belabor the point, but... my physical form was filled out and detailed lab and other test data were attached (though it took many phone calls and trips to the office to get them sent out). And only one question on the onerously-long form was left out: Candidate has no health conditions prohibiting her from travel? Only one question missing. Unfortunately, it's the bottom line. Oh, well. I'd have been asleep by that one if I'd been responsible for completing the form.
Enough complaining. I'm going to see if I can convince S to let me do what comes naturally: worry about his sniffle. Then I'm off to bed, so today is done. That means: 17 days. (It's scary to even type such a small number.)
Last thing: better maps coming soon (read: when I get a sec).
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Tough to Leave New York
Life became so complicated so quickly.
The other day I was saying, "...if we go..." Now, we're looking at less than three weeks. Eighteen days, but who's counting?
I know that all the nonsense preventing us from going, then finally clearing the 'poison' to begin the adventure, made the real countdown very short. Suddenly it's less than three weeks to lift off and I'm trying not to crumble.
C and I wanted to go to NY to see family since November. We missed Thanksgiving, spending two weeks in bed staring at re-runs, too fried by flu to be disappointed. When we became human again, we wanted our time back. This long weekend was our first chance. Unfortunately, it's also our see-you-in-six-months (or more) visit.
We aree having fun, no doubt, but it's also leaving me weepy when I least expect it.
I'm eager to install phones at 25, but can't get them in a hurry. Jane tells me stories with names that I desperately want to check in archival databases, but when will I have time? There are so many books and articles that I should have read by now, but I won't get to. The house is a wreck. I want to do so much for N & S before I leave. Steve should not have to dig himself out from the disaster we leave behind... AND, I have to file the taxes.
Not to mention packing!
But wait. Certain things are coming together unexpectedly.
Sandals: I've searched high and low, ordered from the net and failed. Then, Bea takes us to Tip Top and ... "No. We don't get those until late February." Yet, when the nice man is convinced we are serious he searches the basement and... Yup. Sandals.
Orissa: Things are not coming together so easily for our adventures in Orissa. Disappointing and a little scary, since we haven't even arrived yet. Then Paul arrives. He's here to cut hair, not to work travel miracles. Or is he? Turns out he's got contacts in Tamil Nadu. (An early plan had us there for over a month, but those contacts didn't pan out.) Perhaps we'll go there instead?! Or - if we are really blessed - both.
Skirts: After many tries, Bea found a long, light-weight skirt for C. But nothing for M. Then, tonight, Jane mentions that she has not one, but two, long skirts, large enough for me.
I try to be up-beat. There is so much to be positive about. Still, I hate thinking I will be away from my people. Oddly, they are the ones making this all work. Contradictory and way too complicated. No, complicated isn't the right word. I'm struggling with missing those I love (even before leaving) while they are helping me go... proving, again and again, why I love them and why I'm missing them... now... and for real, later.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)