Russian Medical Fund 24 November 2008

Twelve years coming to a close today. We have saved the lives of more than 3,000 newborns and changed their families forever. We brought hope to a dark place when they thought there was no hope. We kept the entire children's hospital open in 1998 during the ruble crash.

With the hospital gaining political support from the government, I can move on to other projects. But this was a special baby for me, a lifelong dream to help children in other countries who were dying from lack of medicine. It seemed so wrong, and I vowed as a child I would do something when I grew up.

With great affection for my colleagues and supporters, I declare the Russian Medical Fund closed. I think I need to go have a good cry now.

*****

Is Christianity too hard?

"I think it was DH Lawrence that suggested that Christianity was too hard for people."

Well sure. Return love for hate? Bless those who would persecute you? Pray for those who would rather see you harmed? Not so easy.

I naively took this literally and prepared to work with our enemy, the former Soviet Union. There were many who tried to thwart this work, hard to believe anyone would try to interfere with our helping newborns with congenital heart disease, but we persevered in order to save lives and try to create a new kind of understanding between our nations.

Now as to forgiving and working for reconciliation with people in THIS country who have done me/us harm? Yes, I am struggling with that as well. Not so easy but very important.

We are all human beings, we need to look for our common ground, and reach out to those who we see have fallen from reality. Need to walk with them from where they are lost in error to the new place where they experience both truth and safety.

A lot of people’s resistance to coming forward with the truth is that they are afraid. We can be there for them as they become brave to speak.

*******

photo by drewesque

Under attack

Kids learn about crime as we are subject of attempted robbery at the house: 7 men zoomed off when we confronted the one closest to the house. One child who clearly has no fear/sense pursued them and got the license plate. Police made a match and we hope to break up a ring.

This might not be the smartest neighborhood to rob. We don't live very far away from the former Plame Wilson home, and a nice young housewife type could turn out to be someone like her, or like me, with weapons training and karate.

Another child wants to know why I don’t seem very afraid after the initial shock. [Those of you who talked me off -that- cliff: thank you.]

Working in Russia and being kidnap potential as known American of means tends to build a reserve of strength against fear. Once you have accepted the risk you need not be afraid any more. Interesting that among bloggers there are so many who have looked death in the face one way or another.

And here is my favorite passage of all times about fear, from Kung Fu Monkey:

[quote]

FDR: Oh, I’m sorry, was wiping out our entire Pacific fleet supposed to intimidate us? We have nothing to fear but fear itself, and right now we’re coming to kick your ass with brand new destroyers riveted by waitresses. How’s that going to feel?

CHURCHILL: Yeah, you keep bombing us. We’ll be in the pub, flipping you off. I’m slapping Rolls-Royce engines into untested flying coffins to knock you out of the skies, and then I’m sending angry Welshmen to burn your country from the Rhine to the Polish border.

US. NOW: BE AFRAID!! Oh God, the Brown Bad people could strike any moment! They could strike … NOW!! AHHHH. Okay, how about .. NOW!! AAGAGAHAHAHHAG! Quick, do whatever we tell you, and believe whatever we tell you, or YOU WILL BE KILLED BY BROWN PEOPLE!! PUT DOWN THAT SIPPY CUP!!

[end quote]

I'm descended from angry Welshmen. I tend not to scare easily.

*******

My brother's birth and death day

May 29, 1950, my brother's birth day. And his death day. He lived to be 3 hours. In those days they took the baby away from the mother immediately, she never got to hold him, and she never knew what happened to him. I found where he was buried and got his death certificate decades later. This is a child who was born alive who was simply taken away. But he shaped my destiny.

Surely my work at the St. Petersburg Children's Hospital has multiple reasons for its existence. I was raised as a Christian to "love your enemies" and no one could be more our enemy than the Soviet Union, whose stated goal was that they would bury us. We thought there would be World War III and that few would survive.

And when I talk about love, here is what I mean. When my Dad was a child he wrote a letter to Santa that was printed in the Middletown [Ohio] Journal:

"I am six years old and live at 604 Mary Etta street. You may fill my stocking if you have anything left after you visit the little boys and girls who do not have toys."

This is the definition of love in our family. Dad would give you the grocery money and not think twice. Mother would guide us to do the right thing despite obstacles. Ha! As the oldest in this family I was doomed to be a humanitarian.

Was it my choice? Totally. But the energy pushing me toward this goal was intense. Do something high, something important, something meaningful, something of high moral standards. No pressure. And the sacrifice of my personal, physical, emotional life? No problem. I feel fortunate that I penciled in time to get married and have children. That worked out well. But the guilt remains. How much time for which goals.

So now my lovely children have grown up and are doing wonderful things of their own. I have created a program that has directly saved the lives of 3,000+ children. Is it enough? Dear God I hope so but fear it is not. Do I have enough left in me to go one more round?

And I am not even counting my involvement in things political in order to keep our nation from descending into totalitarianism. I spend much of my time these days working behind the scenes here in Washington to help save what's left of our nation from tyranny. I argue with very intelligent people who don't yet see the danger about what has happened and what can happen. The Republicans in government now have gone too far. Can we keep them from taking control of the elections, of what's left of the Justice Department, I would go on but I'm crying.

GOD HELP US

egregious family advances science

Ach.

I'm so proud of my family I don't know which to publish first. We will start with my nephew who is part of the CERN experiment in Geneva, on the front page of today's science section of the New York Times. He is likely missing an urgent family gathering in order to participate in this unique experiment, and I hope all will forgive him. This is history in the making. Godspeed [little joke about particle physics, and their speed]. Yo Alan!!

Only in this light can my cousin being featured in an article in The New Yorker come in second place. Did I mention we are a science and engineering family? My cousin is an expert on the Great Wall, which turns out to be a line not a wall, do I have that right David?

My own humble observation relates to my congenital surgery work in Russia. I have not posted much in the last few weeks because of being in Russia, trip #30, then recovering, then attending back to back conferences on congenital and thoracic surgery. Ho hum such a boring life :)

On my way home from that torture that is individual training at the gym, I saw an ambulance with siren and lights on stuck in traffic. Immediate impulse was to calculate how to eliminate the obstacles. It struck me, that's exactly what I do in Russia. Figure out what are the obstacles to saving more lives, and slash thru them. By the fired o'glake if necessary.

During this aha moment the song on my radio was Josh Groban, a beautiful addition to any moment, but it seemed to describe how I am trying to support the surgeons working in St. Petersburg:

"When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary;
When troubles come and my heart burdened be;
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,
Until you come and sit awhile with me.

"You raise me up, so I can stand on mountains;
You raise me up, to walk on stormy seas;
I am strong, when I am on your shoulders;
You raise me up... To more than I can be.

"There is no life, no life without its hunger;
Each restless heart beats so imperfectly;
But then you come, and I am filled with wonder;
Sometimes I think, I glimpse eternity."

*******

My cousin looking back over the millenia,
my nephew sacrificing something very dear
to come close to the mysteries of eternity.

Me, I'm just trying to wrap up the Cold War,
bring a great city and a rising nation
back into the fold of civilized countries.
It's only been, what, 100 years?

Psalm 90/Isaac Watts:
"A thousand ages in Thy sight
Are like an evening gone
Short as the watch the ends the night
Before the rising dawn."

*******

To save the nation. But which one.

My most recent trip, #30 to St. Petersburg, was for the purpose of seeing the installation of $1,000,000 of monitors and newborn respirators in the ICU. Equipment which could have saved the life of my brother who died at age 3 hours.

We were supposed to have a ceremony with the governor, but I guess this didn't rise to the level of importance. We have decreased the level of infant mortality by half a percent by this program, but maybe that's not important to the powers that be. Altho I do read in the newspapers that they are concerned about their demography, where people are dying much faster than can be replaced. Probably saving the lives of infants doesn't figure in. Ah well.

The larger victory is we have encouraged the city government to begin to become interested in the survival of its own newborns. Those of us who are mothers instinctively get why this is urgent, for bureaucrats it takes a bit longer.

This victory is at some cost to the management. Mental health is most likely overrated. Hope it's worth it. [Good thing everything is calm and fine in my native country, that for example democracy and indeed the entire Constitutional government thingie is not at stake.] I've been doing this now for 11 years and estimate that my work has saved 3,000 lives.

I simply cannot grok this number and care to consider the children one at a time. We had an unusual case where the father was a cabinet minister in an Asian -stan where the nation was in civil unrest, we advanced the surgery in order to help their country. The first example I am aware of where we promoted a child above others for non-medical reasons [obviously excluding emergencies].

Life and death in Russia

You would think I am talking about the death today of former President Yeltsin. That would be wrong.

I am interested in the tens of thousands of newborns who will die this year because of lack of investment in neonatal congenital surgeons and the requisite ICU's.

Once I read someone trying to calm people down by saying If a baby dies in Russia does it matter? Well, actually, yes it does, very much. If this child dies from a congenital defect which is treatable by surgery, it matters very much indeed.

I have worked for the past eleven years to provide millions of dollars of supplies and equipment for the purpose of saving newborns who are born with a heart defect. Very often a simple surgery can save their little lives. It breaks my heart that those who have money do not choose to invest in their own newborns. They are beginning to, perhaps that must be enough.

We have new equipment from the city worth $1,000,000 for the ICU which is a miracle. And it would take another miracle for the city to acknowledge that human beings must take care of these newborns during and after surgery.

Russians are very big on new buildings and new equipment, with perhaps not such great followup with regard to staff and ongoing expenses. New buildings and equipment are very glamorous and if I may add an opportunity for some people to earn a percentage of the contract. Ongoing expenses for ICU nurses and surgeons are not glamorous but are yet essential.

It should be embarrassing to them that people from another country are buying suture thread for the hearts of their newborns. It should be embarrassing that we provide groceries for nurses and doctors who are paid starvation wages. I can hardly believe that professionals are willing to work under these conditions.

My reward, to see a month old girl recover from near death, day by day, and finally be discharged from the ICU. Thank you God! If I have had any small part in this I am grateful and humble.

Another curious story is our patient whose father is a cabinet minister in a country which I may not reveal, where there is civil unrest. He urged us to go ahead with the surgery for his child, so that he could return to his country and help with the political situation. We almost never interrupt the surgical schedule for anything non-medical, but this was quite compelling.

Nearly every time I go over there I am tempted to quit as the obstacles are just ridiculous. Then I look into the eyes of a tiny patient, or the hysterical mother or father, and feel that I do not have the luxury to quit. What if it would be my child? They need me and the help that our organization can provide. I must go on, what choice do I have?

Gagarin and Vonnegut

Am working at the children's hospital in Russia. Two events of notice: the anniversary of Gagarin's flight into space and the death of Kurt Vonnegut, fellow Cornellian.

April 12, 1961: Yuri Gagarin is the first human in space. Headlines around the world.

Such is the power of propaganda that I was an adult before I realized John Glenn wasn’t the first to orbit the earth.

Man rises, man falls. Kurt Vonnegut finds a new existence somewhere in the universe. I hope he's having a cool time joking around with Mark Twain.

Consider this: the same university produced Vonnegut, Olbermann, and egregious.

I won’t believe Vonnegut’s dead until he comes and tells me personally.

Speaking of life and death, today we saved the life of a premie who is 2 days old and weighs 4 pounds. Tiny changes create enormous life and death consequences. Political analogy = blog issue du jour. Personally I'm in for the USA's scandal x93.

We were just talking about him yesterday wrt a Vonnegutian moment: once I signed for my own international Fedex package. Sent the package from the U.S., left for Russia a couple days later, went to the hospital, and opened the office door to see the Fedex guy with: my package.

My Russian colleagues had been permitted to read Vonnegut under Soviet times. Why? I asked, he is so subversive. Yes they explained, but he was viewed as anti-American. Somebody slipped that one by the censors.

And so it goes.

*******

Hey from Russia

Written Easter Sunday

Hey from Russia. I was sitting at the window looking at two white horses and a carriage in the light April snow, enjoying my beef stroganoff and wifi, when the wifi went poof. I suppose all dreams must end at some point. But the horses are really cool.

We work tomorrow. Hope you guys had/are having a glorious Easter. Christianity is under assault not least from wingers that have a very odd interpretation of love your neighbor. Am trying to do the peacemaker thingie and it’s tough going. I feel I was called by God at an early age to do this work, and trust that He knows what He is doing.

The beauty of being mentally ill [not the phrase you hear every day] is that when regular life is difficult, you might as well do something really hard, because it’s not much different.

*******

Best friend moving: no April Fools

Stunned to learn that my best friend for many years will be moving to Chicago within the year. Excuse me, but no. It might very well be what is best for her and her family, but it is breaking my heart.

This friend has worked with me from the beginning 11 years ago to support our Russian children's hospital work. When I was considering who I wanted on my new board of directors, she was the first one. She has helped in myriad ways and has come over weekly to help support our work.

Support takes a variety of forms. In theory it is envelope stuffing, however the deeper work is listening to the president rant about the ridiculous, unfair, and evil obstacles to our work in Russia. She has endured a great many of these rants over the course of my thirty trips to St. Petersburg. How shall I prepare for future trips without this feedback?

We met thru our daughters' music and bonded over their teenage difficulties. We found out rather late in the game that both of us are amateur genealogists, active in her case and rather lapsed in my case after writing up 150 pages when the girls were little.

They moved to Hawai'i just at the time when things were becoming chaotic and intense with our work, when we were building a new ICU and planning a new operating room suite. I didn't realize how much I had depended on her for home baked goods and other symbolic forms of pre-trip support until she was away for two years. Hope the military appreciates what I gave up in the interim.

Now it seems I must prepare to lose her to the wider world again. There had better be planes between Washington and Chicago, that's all I can say. Email is good, phone calls are good, but there is nothing quite like the raised eyebrow in support of one's latest rant to feel that things will be all right, because my friend understands.

I am not a spy

I live in America and work in Russia. This has created high anxiety among those responsible for intelligence and counter-intelligence in both countries.

I’ve been investigated up the wazoo by the services of both countries. If either the Russians or the Americans wanted anything from me, they've had eleven years to figure out who I am and what I'm doing over there.

Worst was in the mid 90’s when nobody could figure out who the hell I was. Single person repeatedly traveling to Russia, not on the American list—hence suspect, and not on the Russian list—hence suspect. Just a humanitarian, it took several years for them to get their minds wrapped around that strange fact.

Every time there was a new list revealed---Ames, Hansen---I wasn't on it. Probably made my minders ever more insane. What was I doing at this Russian hospital. Surely I wasn't simply a humanitarian? Out of the question.

I accepted that I would be investigated [to this day, most likely] by the Russians. Why am I there. Well, on their national tv I said I was working to save the lives of children in Russia because I am a Christian, like their Orthodox Christians. Could that be a sufficient explanation? Of course not.

So they follow me, listen to my phone conversations, and demand explanations from every taxi driver. The good news is I have brought a large number of Russian taxi drivers to realize that things can be better by a concerted investment in their children's hospital.

On the American side, I have been followed and probed by a minimum of three intelligence organizations. At first I was angry, then I realized it meant we were sufficiently large and effective to draw the attention of such agencies. If I worked with one of them I would be investigating this organization. So that led to peace of mind.

One agency in Maryland sent a very junior person who was quite sweet and who was horrified at being forced to report on my very obviously humanitarian work.

One agency in Virginia sent a senior team with a trap that they thought was very clever, to ascertain if I was for real, but their charade collapsed when I confronted them with the knowledge that I knew they were investigating me, and if they wanted to know what I was doing, they could call my three most recent ministers in the Presbyterian Church. That was pretty much the end of their investigation.

One agency in a place I won't identify to be merciful to the person assigned to my case, sent an agent to an international conference to follow me and question me and my colleagues. It was truly amateur hour. I was embarrassed for my government. He questioned me in detail but in return had no knowledge about the subject of the conference. DUH PEOPLE can't we do better than that? Then I observed him following me, so I abruptly turned around and he panicked and zipped off in a different direction. I was insulted that I didn't deserve a more subtle agent. Oh well, the price of serving the poor in another country. My motives will probably always be suspect.

I hope that the intelligence agencies on both sides of the Atlantic have had sufficient opportunity over the last eleven years to investigate me and find disappointing results: I am just a humanitarian, trying to save the lives of newborns, and trying to work for peace between two countries that have long been enemies. How very unhappy they must be, the people who have been assigned to investigate me over the years. I'm sorry! Hope you find some good stuff on your other cases.

All in all, this has been a great burden on me which just piles on to my usual bipolar manic-depression and ADHD and OCD. What's one more issue? But the strange thing is, as my mental health improves, I am increasingly unwilling to accept these indignities, border problems, customs issues, intelligence investigations. Russia is improving, but my mental health is improving faster. It is a dangerous disconnect. Lives are at stake. Better to be sick and accept all these indignities as only what I deserve.

Got a better solution to save thousands of lives? I'm all ears.

*******

People will help you

If you hear a loud wailing noise, that's probably the echo of me screaming about evil computers. I have spent the day and the better part of my patience trying to download some new virus protection software. As a public health person the concept of virus protection appeals to me in principle.

The frustration is my ignorance and my lack of patience. Trying to be a good little Jedi Knight.

And several people have tried to help me including the people at the aforementioned software site. [Shez...you're on my list for tomorrow if I can't get make this work.]

I have tried to be open about what I don't know, in order to learn. That's gotta be a good thing, right? And people have been very generous with their time and patience trying to lead me step by step in order to meet my goals.

Interrupted this vain pursuit to go to the bank and wire several thousand dollars to Russia for our children's hospital. This lovely bank once RE-OPENED THE NATIONAL WIRE TRANSFER CAPABILITY because they had made a mistake and I urgently needed funds to get to Russia. Talk about service. People will help you if they know -why- it's important.

Am trying to be philosophical and view conquering difficulties as one of my gifts to the children of Russia. Sometimes this works. The problem one encounters is not simply what's blocking one's destined path; it becomes the next step in one's path. Or so I can think when I'm not screaming.

I am giving more thought to the process of shoving obstacles out of the way. I imagine egDau the younger pushing those giant sets off stage in between acts of the play.

In Dr. Gridlock [great name for a traffic column] today in the W.Post he talks about removing traffic obstacles, one at a time. This is my philsophy in general, One Catastrophe at a Time.

In principle, this works. In practice, it leaves me screaming with frustration. Rather like Jan L. A. van de Snepscheut's concept: In theory, there's no difference between theory and practice. In practice, there is.

*******

Not "Stuck" --- Evaluating available options

While we are on the edge of our seats waiting for the Libby verdicts, we observe that the jury seems to be held up on some issues. What is reasonable doubt? Must the government prove it was not "humanly possible" for Libby to forget? [Answer----arrrgh/RTFM]

We all encouter obstacles in our daily lives. This afternoon a tree fell across my driveway, blocking any further progress. This morning, a metaphorical tree fell across my progress with the Russian hospital work. It's been quite the time of surprise and anger, followed by cursing and general anxiety and depression. The usual meltdown. This is part of my job description I guess.

No wonder we can't find a successor. No one in their right mind would do this work, and mentally ill people do not customarily make it thru 8 years of college and go work in another country.

This was not a good day to have computer troubles thrown onto the pyre. Rains => pours. Don't they know, One Catastrophe at a Time™. OH YAY! I can't find my little trademark sign due to eponymous computer problems. Use your imagination here. YAY!! Success! Blast those obstacles!!!

When I am doing puzzles, which thankfully have no emotional content [tho I could make an exception for crosswords, since words remind us of things], I work carefully around obstacles. I never say I am "stuck." It sounds like surrender. Rather I say I am evaluating available options.

Sark said of me, without ever meeting me, that I am a "surrendering soul." This is right on so many levels. She also said eldest egDau was "exuberant" before ever meeting her. This woman has the Sight indeed.

In between crying jags I've been evaluating a whole lot of available options. This always has the same ending: a realization that I don't have the answers today, and pray to God that something brilliant will occur to me in the future.

Stepping out on faith? Hell, I'm rollarskating on faith. Hope God knows what I'm doing, because I've lost track.

*******

Money for hospitals: never enough

I am reflecting on the scandal at Walter Reed Hospital while finishing up the annual report for our charity supporting Children's Hospital in St. Petersburg Russia.

There is never enough money for hospitals. I worked at Mass. General for 4 years before taking time off to raise my lovely children. Who knew it would be a 15 year maternity leave? I couldn't leave them to the care of anyone else. But while I was there I was first a financial analyst, then business manager. In Boston, at MGH---medical mecca---there wasn't enough money.

In Russia our hospital scrapes along as well as it can. Several years ago I saw the health budget for the whole city. Reaction: no way! Where's the rest of it? And that's not even counting the sums that never quite *cough* reach the hospitals. Twenty million in that offshore account would buy a lot of supplies. Just sayin'.

At Walter Reed, I imagine there are similar dynamics in play. The VA hospital system has been shrinking over the last several years, as the bulk of wounded World War Two veterans pass away. The system was totally unprepared for the influx of 30,000 seriously crippled young people from what was supposed to be a quicky war.

Shock and awe. Well, we are shocked at the results, and they are awful: the army's top hospital in a scandal for not caring for its most grievously wounded patients.

When there isn't enough money, it's necessary to be attentive to the necessary choices, as every family on a budget knows.

I think what happened with Walter Reed is that there was chronically not enough money as with every hospital in my experience, from rich to poor. Then thousands of severely injured people came pouring in. Then their plans for expansion and improvement were several years behind the urgent need.

In addition, there may be callous administrators and any number of nearly burned-out people who have been desperately carrying small buckets of water to put out this fire.

So where DID all that money go, the regular Congressional appropriations, the 'emergency' appropriations? Well, clearly not enough to this hospital.

But beyond that, in an era of scarcity and urgent need---which I know a little bit about from Russia---it is necessary to prioritize; to watch your funds like a hawk; and to manage your institution with diligence. It is entirely possible that Walter Reed Hospital failed on all three accounts.

It's easy to be a manger when there are plenty of resources. But in scarcity, you need top people to run things. This didn't happen, and our young men and women who have lost arms, legs, eyes, and sanity are the poorer for it. FOR SHAME.
*******

Knowledge is delicious

This morning I was having fun researching the proposed skyscraper for St. Petersburg, Russia, the first building over a few stories in the entire city. For Gazprom, it would be in the shape of a natural gas flame, and blue, and astonishingly tall compared with the rest of the city. Architectural and aesthetic battles are ongoing.

While looking up the proposed location, I discovered the Google map showing where it was. This program is not new but I've not been able to find very much in St. Petersburg before. It was all fuzzy, no resolution possible, so they said. I have to believe we have long had the capacity to see quite clearly from sky to ground there.

So hey! Let's look up the children's hospital, there it is! I felt like waving hi or something. Then looked up the city center and my colleagues' apartment buildings.

That was great, what about on the home front. I switched it from Map to Satellite and headed on over to North America. Now we see what the astronauts and cosmonauts see: land with no stripes and words on it. I was astonished how much I think of our country with the state lines and labeled cities on it. Even around Washington it took me a while to find familiar territory.

Zooming in and out gave a very different sense of perspective of how close things were to each other. I kept wanting to switch to Map, to get boundaries and names, but resisted as an experiment. Finally I found chez egregious, and traced the path of my forest sanity walks. It was different that I had supposed.

And so does our perspective vary on other matters, life, politics, creativity. I am experimenting with different levels of perspective in these areas, somewhat uncharted terrority.

I feel that I am looking in Satellite view, and would like to find familiar places with Map. But this time I must draw my own maps.

I feel like a foreigner everywhere

Why I am so successful working in Russia is when I make my usual interpersonal and social mistakes they just chalk it up to my being a foreigner. Sometimes I feel like a foreigner everywhere.

Usually it’s safer for me to hide at home and not Talk With People™.

The fact that I was willing to come forth and work in public, attend fundraisers for Webb, etc, demonstrates my patriotic love for our country. It was hard.

I came out of my turtle shell to attend the Libby trial Tuesday, when Fitzgerald demolished Hannah with a couple of quick questions about Libby being So Busy On Matters Of Urgent Scary National Importance [and Scary Terrorist Threats!!!!], yet available for 1-2 hours with Judy Miller. Where they discussed nothing much. Except for outing an undercover CIA agent during time of war. One who was in charge of investigations regarding weapons of mass destruction for Iraq and Iran. Oh, well, no biggie.

May I say for the record, as the daughter of a city prosecutor, this was a dream come true, to watch the most important prosecutor of our time establishing his case, brick by brick.

One thing about our blogger trial coverage [in today's NYT!] is we have a lot of people working while wounded. Those of us who have faced serious illness are more willing to use our remaining energy and time on earth standing up to injustice. We recognize that our earthly life might be very short. Time’s awastin’, need to act. Burn the candle at both ends, hell, melt it down if that will save people.

I think I’m kind of a child prodigy in a grownup body. On an intellectual level things work well but when interacting with the world it seems overwhelming. I feel that I have made too many mistakes.

I've stopped eating again. Trying to make myself smaller. Shame attack. Long history of anorexia and eating disorders. I trust this will be temporary. Yes, meds, psychiatrist, friends, all that stuff. Sometimes my defensive perimeter is breached.

And so? I feel that I am on a journey of self-exploration where the outcome matters. In my two previous journeys I raised three children and started a charity that has saved the lives of 2,000 children. So need to take this new journey seriously. Is it mania to think you can save the world? The world needs us. I can save the world, unlike most people, but can I save myself?

The puzzle puzzle: solved!

Did you ever find an activity that just made you feel calm and happy? Ok other than THAT one :)

People with ADD and possibly OCD apparently find some peace by taking up activities with repetitive hand motions.

I am surprised by how many acquaintances used to knit during the Vietnam war, then let it lapse, then have recently taken knitting up again. Myself, I don't pretend to make anything fancy, just rectangles that could charitably be called scarves.

My new activity is a logic puzzle called Paint by numbers.* My sister found one book of these that she liked so much, she would erase the puzzles and do them again. Me: ok weird, but interesting.

*Eeeeek, my first successful link on this blog...

Then I found a magazine in the St. Petersburg airport, airside, mostly in Japanese with pithy sayings and salacious ads in Russian. Got one for my sister and as an afterthot one for me.

Well! Turns out it is very calming to quietly calculate which squares to fill in with pencil strokes. So I find myself hooked. It has helped me keep my sanity while waiting in airports, on long distance flights, and while enduring inevitable pauses in Plame trial news. [Go Jane, Christy, Marcy, Swopa, Pach, TRex!!]

So this time leaving St. Petersburg, following a troubled trip in terms of customs harrassment and being followed by strangers, I looked forward to buying another pair of puzzle magazines at the airport for Marilyn and me. Alas! The space where they had been was vacant, open for reconstruction. Ach du lieber. Went towards the departure gate and found the store in its new location. Hope springs eternal [not, hopespringsaturtle, one of the all-time great pennames].

Rustled thru my briefcase and pulled out the beloved puzzle magazine, Do you have this? She looked over at the magazine rack and said, Sorry. Ruh roh. Class C emergency. It doesn't really matter in the long haul, but still....

[Little travel joke about long haul. Guess you had to be there.]

So upon return to the USSA it was a priority to research this puzzle book. I thot I would have to contact either a Japanese or a Russian distributor to get the needed material.

New theory: maybe a general US puzzle magazine would have this, good thinking. I looked carefully at Games Magazine and found the gold at the end of the rainbow: the familiar pattern on the corner of the cover. Raced to google the name of the puzzle, and found many! books and magazines with diverse names:

Hanjie
O'ekaki
Crosspix
Paint by sudoku
Paint by number
Picross
Nonograms
Griddlers

VICTORY! So I ordered a set for my sister and a set for moi. Patiently waiting. Ok those of you that know me, not so patiently waiting.

I struggle to calm my hyperactive brain. It is a great blessing except when it isn't. Thots flying too fast. Scanning the universe in search of....? Anything I find to help calm me down, excluding alcohol, is on the list.

I drink so I don't become hysterical, and angry, and say something that would hurt someone. PLEASE GOD let the researchers find new drugs that will help people like me.

Puzzle not quite solved, after all.

My ADD interferes with my OCD

True quote from my best friend. We were discussing the joys of being both ADD and OCD when she came up with this gold. Need to think about the implications.

May I ramble on a bit? All right, you say, and in fact necessary to identify a post as being uniquely mine. Not kind of unique, sort of unique, nearly unique, [uniquer--per egSon] thank you lovely children who know this pet peeve. It is either one of a kind or not. Unique or not unique. /rant.

As to rambling, you might think this was the very sign of me posting, rather like looseheadprop's spelling errors at firedoglake. It's how we know it is her speaking.

This lovely friend came over today, as every Friday, to help in whatever way I needed for the Russian Medical Fund work. Today the agenda was to keep the president from quitting. Again. But rather seriously this time.

According to my friend, there are still children who will die without our help, and no one will take my place if I quit [what is WRONG with this world], and I probably am strong enough to keep doing this work. Gratuitous swear word inserted here. I apparently continue to have the obligation and the opportunity to save lives if only I will keep going. So be it. But I hope it's worth the cost.

We operated on a child from Tadzhikistan, who came to us from another center that will remain nameless to protect the guilty. The parents SOLD THEIR HOUSE to pay for his first surgery at the other institution, and they nearly killed him. They at least had the conscience to send him on to us. We did his repair, undoing their strange cutting and pasting, and now he has a chance at a normal life.

I watched the re-do surgery and sat with the mother, who was understandably hysterical, as her son came from surgery to the ICU. I explained to her that the surgery went well, was perfectly normal, yet her son would look strange being under anaesthesia and with tubes sticking into him. We spoke in Russian, which was her second language and mine. Yet as mothers we communicated at a higher level. She trusted me since I too had children.

That's the good news. The bad news: there are people in the city where I work who are actively trying to shut down our program, which saves the lives of 350 children a year.

Why? To bring a trickle of federal money toward their own program, so they can have a small and weak program that kills more patients than they save. They want to expand their own program at the cost of killing ours.

Can you hear my response? Their inability to see beyond themselves is evil.

Yet at some level I am sympathetic. It is always hard to see beyond oneself, or beyond one's own organization. But in this case, for them to succeed, children will die. I WILL RESIST.

My alcohol counselor is unhappy. Better I should withdraw from this struggle and work on my own sanity. What is morally right here?

I have already decided to withdraw from the issue of war and peace between the United States and Iraq/Iran/et cetera, for the benefit aof my sanity. Must I leave my work of 10+ years as well?

A man dies in my presence

Speaking to you from the airport in Frankfurt, more than 24 hours after my trip home from Russia began. We took off from St. Petersburg only to turn around for a man with a heart attack. I fear his outcome was not good, since they stopped the CPR. It was a strange experience to sit quite close to where they were working on him with CPR, thank goodness there was a doctor on the flight. I always think about volunteering in case there isn't a doctor available. Memo to everyone: refresh your CPR skills. This could be you.

I have seen many people die in my presence, which is not so common outside a war zone. Except for my grandmother they have all been children. It is an opportunity for prayer, urgent energy, and reflection on the meaning of life and death. What is it which animates this human flesh?

And I think there is something more, beyond what we know here. As a Christian I have certain beliefs about the afterlife, but here is an idea for everyone: There is conservation of matter, conservation of energy, why wouldn't there be conservation of the life force?

Realizing how precious life is, keeps me from quitting time after time. [See below post for me deciding I've had enough, yet again.] NZexpat has such a good quote about pushing back against the forces of darkness:

"I hope the miracles of what you are doing can filter through the curtain of obtuseness, obstruction, and ignorant power."
---------NZexpat of firedoglake

This is deeply healing for me. What are we fighting? Stupidity, selfishness, refusal to see beyond one's own world...yet I am also sympathetic to those things. Every day it is a struggle to think beyond my own mental illness.

To reach out and help other people in an unusual way makes as much sense as hiding at home under a blanket---very appealing many days, especially during my seasonal winter depression. So if it's hard to get thru a normal day, and only a little bit harder to work at a children's hospital in Russia, why not go for it?

I quit. Again.

why shdnt i just quit. they destroy my suitcase with supplies for THEIR newborns. they try to close our surgical unit because they see we are successful. strange people follow me. i hate this.

for some reason God asks me to work here. door is triple locked and my local contact will guard. but this is typical.

as my mental health improves i become less tolerant of indignities. as on my egrBlog profile i am perfect for this work being mentally ill because no one in their right mind wd do this.

i will wake up tomorrow, pick up my fired o’glake, and engage in battle once again. the 2 week old baby with transposition. blood from heart doesnt reach lungs for required oxygen. i find myself in surprising sympathy w this. need some oxygen myself.

thx for firedoglake love, i’ll be ok always have before just not so public except for last summer. apprec yr prayers. f*cking country.