Me vs. Snow
As some of you know, I have been in Oregon since last Wednesday, visiting my DASF (Dear and Special Friend) Brianna, my best friend since 7th grade, as the juvenile acronym might indicate. It has been a lovely trip, and I suppose it is a good thing that Brianna and I like each other so much, as it begins to look like I may never leave. That is clearly some shameless exaggeration, but there have been moments where I was not sure. Due to the rapid succession of snowstorms back east, my original flight, scheduled for today, was cancelled. I managed to re-book a flight for tomorrow, the 11th, only to wake up this morning and find that it, too, is cancelled. Unable to re-book myself online, I called the ever-helpful (ahem) Delta Airlines, whose main line was incessantly busy, but whom I was finally able to reach via their frequent flyer line. After waiting only a few minutes for an operator and then being told that I could be re-booked for the 12th, I chalked this up as a small victory. That, it turned out, was premature. I spent 45 minutes -- and this is no exaggeration -- on hold, waiting for a 're-booking agent' who never answered. Luckily, I started checking the online options again and magically a flight for the 11th, new and different from my previous one, popped up and I am currently scheduled once again to leave tomorrow. But lesson learned, I have spent most of my day obsessively checking the flight status site to make sure my flight to BWI is still on green.
And the winner is: Undecided, pending further snow and/or airline nonsense. Either way, I'm coming out pretty shabby, if/when I finally do make it back to the DC area.
Brianna vs. Spirit Airlines
While on the topic of airline-related nonsense, let me share w/you the story of how I came to be in Oregon for the last week. The original plan was that Brianna was going to come visit me in Haiti at this time to celebrate my birthday but given recent events, we knew that plan was off. So instead she used a bunch of airmiles to fly me out to OR, which was very nice. In the meantime, Brianna had two plane tickets and a hotel reservation that were no longer needed. Delta, whom Brianna had planned to fly from Oregon to Florida using airmiles, offered her a flight credit. After a few phone calls, the hotel in Ft. Lauderdale where she had planned to spend the night before catching her flight to PAP, agreed to a refund. But when Brianna called Spirit, with whom she was to fly to PAP and back, they informed her that they could not do anything for her b/c her flight was still listed as 'On Time' in their schedule. Yes, that's correct -- in the midst of a disaster whose magnitude we are only beginning to comprehend, Spirit airlines refused to give Brianna her $200 back b/c their computer had not yet been updated to reflect the fact that no one commercial is flying in or out of PAP for the foreseeable future. In fact, when she spoke to someone a week after the earthquake, they told her that it was impossible for them to consider refunding her ticket b/c they were slated to resume flights on 26 January. And they were totally serious. I imagine by now they have corrected this ridiculous misconception, yet they continue to refuse to provide a refund. Brianna has now filed a claim with her travel insurance company, the result of which will undoubtedly take several months to arrive.
And the winner is: Unless the travel insurance finds a way to bully Spirit into submission, I believe the airline has come out on top -- Brianna has thrown in the towel, refusing to engage any further w/the customer service staff from Hell.
Me vs. Life, PTSD, and other behemoths
On the plus side, I am one again able to eat normal meals without getting sick, I no longer cry in inappropriate places, and I am sleeping more than four hours at a time, so those are all good signs. I'm sure I will eventually be fine, if never the same. But until eventually comes to pass, life is pretty freaking weird. Often, I am totally fine for long stretches: I can talk about Haiti in an unemotional (or at least not overly emotional) way, I don't constantly think about what has happened, and I have been able to go out and do things almost every day since coming to Oregon, just like this was any other visit. In fact, things had been going so well that by Saturday, I sort of felt like maybe I was better, or at least over the hump.
Then I spent two hours crying before I finally collapsed into sleep and each day since has involved forcing myself to participate in whatever the activity of the day is, all the while thinking how I would much rather go to bed and sleep for about a year, while also feeling guilty for not enjoying my time here more.
I am doing everything I can on my end to both help Haiti and to help Stephane and me, but there is a constant sense of ludicrousness, an almost comic futility to my efforts.
I have at least one dream a night that is either earthquake-related or some other version of apocalypse; most telling is the fact that the earthquake dreams are almost never in Haiti, they are in my homes in Maryland or South Carolina, places that should feel safe to me.
Listening to Stephane oscillate between feeling good about his work and feeling as if he is blocked at every turn -- and knowing that there is so little I can do when I am so far away -- compounds the feelings of uncertainty and frustration.
I can't stop hoping for positive change, but I am beginning to suspect that I don't believe it is possible.
My professional training and experience tell me that all of these things are, to an extent, normal, especially at this point when the traumatic event is still fairly recent. What is weird is that the only comfort I can find is in those statistics, these trauma studies I know so well from years of research and implementation. These numbers comfort me more than my prayers.
And the winner is: I'm pretty stubborn. So we'll see.
Luke vs. Rat
Brianna's house is a cute, older home situated on a little more than an acre of land, part of which her boyfriend Luke has cultivated and uses to grow produce and chickens. The house is really not bad, but has some old house-type problems, rats among them, though the pesty guests have been confining themselves to the basement. Before going to bed the other night, Brianna was convinced that she heard a rate in the kitchen, but after some diligent searching didn't show anything, we decided she was just paranoid. That night, however, I was awoken multiple times by what sounded like a rodent foraging around the dining room table, the crinkle of paper and plastic wrappers and tap-tap-tap of tiny feet rousing me from already fragile sleep. At one point, it sounded like the culprit was moving toward the living room, where I sleep, and I lay motionless on the couch hoping against hope that a rat was not preparing to jump on my face. Upon waking the next morning, I fully expected to find evidence of late-night rodent adventures, but instead found my bag of Goldfish crackers and some other packages completely unmolested, and the area was totally free from the feces that usually accompany rat visits. Brianna then informed me that her small, deceptively feeble-looking dog, Nugget, had gotten out of their room sometime in the night and that he sometimes likes to jump on the table when no one is around and there is a conveniently placed chair and we are quite sure that the culprit was indeed Nugget, who does somewhat resemble a rat, nosing about that night.
But the rat drama was just beginning. The next night, Brianna and Luke were woken from their slumber at 4am by the sound of a rat in their closet. They were again unable to locate an actual animal, but Brianna insisted that it was there. Turns out she was right. Late last night, Luke emerged from the bedroom to say that he had found the intruder hiding *in* a dresser drawer. Brianna immediately set about strategizing how she could wash all of their clothing in a 24 hour period while Luke busied himself with finding all available containers in which to trap the rat. For some reason, we then all proceeded to enter Luke and Brianna's very small bedroom, Brianna and I standing on the bed while Luke crawled around on the floor trying to determine where exactly the rat had gotten to. A broom was brought in, a headlamp employed, and I spent a good ten minutes clutching a clothes hanger, I suppose with the intention of hitting the rat if it attempted to jump on my face (I really have a thing about that). The rat was trapped in various corners, never with any success but with lots of squeals (from us), and I finally decided that my presence was no longer needed after the rat did indeed jump toward Brianna's face as she tried to trap it in a box and then nearly climbed onto my foot while he was scaling the bed. Rats don't scare me, but their spastic jumping does.
For another 10 minutes, I listened with some amusement to the bumps, cries, and curses emanating from the bedroom, after which time Brianna joined me, explaining that Luke had asked for some time alone w/the rat. Apparently she was not a good hunter, either. heh. A further 15 minutes and much noise later, Luke emerged, sweaty and disheveled, carrying a cardboard box whose lid was being held closed by a large book. It seems he had indeed vanquished the rat, who, by Luke's description, had appeared quite tired when it finally resigned itself to running into the waiting box. The mighty foe was then transported to a public park a mile or so away, where we can assume he is plotting his revenge and raising an army.
And the winner is: Luke -- but he might want to watch his back.
As some of you know, I have been in Oregon since last Wednesday, visiting my DASF (Dear and Special Friend) Brianna, my best friend since 7th grade, as the juvenile acronym might indicate. It has been a lovely trip, and I suppose it is a good thing that Brianna and I like each other so much, as it begins to look like I may never leave. That is clearly some shameless exaggeration, but there have been moments where I was not sure. Due to the rapid succession of snowstorms back east, my original flight, scheduled for today, was cancelled. I managed to re-book a flight for tomorrow, the 11th, only to wake up this morning and find that it, too, is cancelled. Unable to re-book myself online, I called the ever-helpful (ahem) Delta Airlines, whose main line was incessantly busy, but whom I was finally able to reach via their frequent flyer line. After waiting only a few minutes for an operator and then being told that I could be re-booked for the 12th, I chalked this up as a small victory. That, it turned out, was premature. I spent 45 minutes -- and this is no exaggeration -- on hold, waiting for a 're-booking agent' who never answered. Luckily, I started checking the online options again and magically a flight for the 11th, new and different from my previous one, popped up and I am currently scheduled once again to leave tomorrow. But lesson learned, I have spent most of my day obsessively checking the flight status site to make sure my flight to BWI is still on green.
And the winner is: Undecided, pending further snow and/or airline nonsense. Either way, I'm coming out pretty shabby, if/when I finally do make it back to the DC area.
Brianna vs. Spirit Airlines
While on the topic of airline-related nonsense, let me share w/you the story of how I came to be in Oregon for the last week. The original plan was that Brianna was going to come visit me in Haiti at this time to celebrate my birthday but given recent events, we knew that plan was off. So instead she used a bunch of airmiles to fly me out to OR, which was very nice. In the meantime, Brianna had two plane tickets and a hotel reservation that were no longer needed. Delta, whom Brianna had planned to fly from Oregon to Florida using airmiles, offered her a flight credit. After a few phone calls, the hotel in Ft. Lauderdale where she had planned to spend the night before catching her flight to PAP, agreed to a refund. But when Brianna called Spirit, with whom she was to fly to PAP and back, they informed her that they could not do anything for her b/c her flight was still listed as 'On Time' in their schedule. Yes, that's correct -- in the midst of a disaster whose magnitude we are only beginning to comprehend, Spirit airlines refused to give Brianna her $200 back b/c their computer had not yet been updated to reflect the fact that no one commercial is flying in or out of PAP for the foreseeable future. In fact, when she spoke to someone a week after the earthquake, they told her that it was impossible for them to consider refunding her ticket b/c they were slated to resume flights on 26 January. And they were totally serious. I imagine by now they have corrected this ridiculous misconception, yet they continue to refuse to provide a refund. Brianna has now filed a claim with her travel insurance company, the result of which will undoubtedly take several months to arrive.
And the winner is: Unless the travel insurance finds a way to bully Spirit into submission, I believe the airline has come out on top -- Brianna has thrown in the towel, refusing to engage any further w/the customer service staff from Hell.
Me vs. Life, PTSD, and other behemoths
On the plus side, I am one again able to eat normal meals without getting sick, I no longer cry in inappropriate places, and I am sleeping more than four hours at a time, so those are all good signs. I'm sure I will eventually be fine, if never the same. But until eventually comes to pass, life is pretty freaking weird. Often, I am totally fine for long stretches: I can talk about Haiti in an unemotional (or at least not overly emotional) way, I don't constantly think about what has happened, and I have been able to go out and do things almost every day since coming to Oregon, just like this was any other visit. In fact, things had been going so well that by Saturday, I sort of felt like maybe I was better, or at least over the hump.
Then I spent two hours crying before I finally collapsed into sleep and each day since has involved forcing myself to participate in whatever the activity of the day is, all the while thinking how I would much rather go to bed and sleep for about a year, while also feeling guilty for not enjoying my time here more.
I am doing everything I can on my end to both help Haiti and to help Stephane and me, but there is a constant sense of ludicrousness, an almost comic futility to my efforts.
I have at least one dream a night that is either earthquake-related or some other version of apocalypse; most telling is the fact that the earthquake dreams are almost never in Haiti, they are in my homes in Maryland or South Carolina, places that should feel safe to me.
Listening to Stephane oscillate between feeling good about his work and feeling as if he is blocked at every turn -- and knowing that there is so little I can do when I am so far away -- compounds the feelings of uncertainty and frustration.
I can't stop hoping for positive change, but I am beginning to suspect that I don't believe it is possible.
My professional training and experience tell me that all of these things are, to an extent, normal, especially at this point when the traumatic event is still fairly recent. What is weird is that the only comfort I can find is in those statistics, these trauma studies I know so well from years of research and implementation. These numbers comfort me more than my prayers.
And the winner is: I'm pretty stubborn. So we'll see.
Luke vs. Rat
Brianna's house is a cute, older home situated on a little more than an acre of land, part of which her boyfriend Luke has cultivated and uses to grow produce and chickens. The house is really not bad, but has some old house-type problems, rats among them, though the pesty guests have been confining themselves to the basement. Before going to bed the other night, Brianna was convinced that she heard a rate in the kitchen, but after some diligent searching didn't show anything, we decided she was just paranoid. That night, however, I was awoken multiple times by what sounded like a rodent foraging around the dining room table, the crinkle of paper and plastic wrappers and tap-tap-tap of tiny feet rousing me from already fragile sleep. At one point, it sounded like the culprit was moving toward the living room, where I sleep, and I lay motionless on the couch hoping against hope that a rat was not preparing to jump on my face. Upon waking the next morning, I fully expected to find evidence of late-night rodent adventures, but instead found my bag of Goldfish crackers and some other packages completely unmolested, and the area was totally free from the feces that usually accompany rat visits. Brianna then informed me that her small, deceptively feeble-looking dog, Nugget, had gotten out of their room sometime in the night and that he sometimes likes to jump on the table when no one is around and there is a conveniently placed chair and we are quite sure that the culprit was indeed Nugget, who does somewhat resemble a rat, nosing about that night.
But the rat drama was just beginning. The next night, Brianna and Luke were woken from their slumber at 4am by the sound of a rat in their closet. They were again unable to locate an actual animal, but Brianna insisted that it was there. Turns out she was right. Late last night, Luke emerged from the bedroom to say that he had found the intruder hiding *in* a dresser drawer. Brianna immediately set about strategizing how she could wash all of their clothing in a 24 hour period while Luke busied himself with finding all available containers in which to trap the rat. For some reason, we then all proceeded to enter Luke and Brianna's very small bedroom, Brianna and I standing on the bed while Luke crawled around on the floor trying to determine where exactly the rat had gotten to. A broom was brought in, a headlamp employed, and I spent a good ten minutes clutching a clothes hanger, I suppose with the intention of hitting the rat if it attempted to jump on my face (I really have a thing about that). The rat was trapped in various corners, never with any success but with lots of squeals (from us), and I finally decided that my presence was no longer needed after the rat did indeed jump toward Brianna's face as she tried to trap it in a box and then nearly climbed onto my foot while he was scaling the bed. Rats don't scare me, but their spastic jumping does.
For another 10 minutes, I listened with some amusement to the bumps, cries, and curses emanating from the bedroom, after which time Brianna joined me, explaining that Luke had asked for some time alone w/the rat. Apparently she was not a good hunter, either. heh. A further 15 minutes and much noise later, Luke emerged, sweaty and disheveled, carrying a cardboard box whose lid was being held closed by a large book. It seems he had indeed vanquished the rat, who, by Luke's description, had appeared quite tired when it finally resigned itself to running into the waiting box. The mighty foe was then transported to a public park a mile or so away, where we can assume he is plotting his revenge and raising an army.
And the winner is: Luke -- but he might want to watch his back.
5 comments:
You should put Luke in contact with Nick so Nick can explain how to squeeze the life out of the small animals or beat them to death without too much mess.
All is quiet and covered with snow on the eastern front. Love and miss you.
Remember that those statistics that comfort you are based on real people's reactions - nor super humans, but real people like you -though you are more amazing than some of us! I am glad you can relate a story that made me laugh out loud even if it was about something as unsavory as a rat!
Good luck with your flight back to Maryland! I have been watching the videos and photos roll in on Facebook, and I must say, they are quite buried in white fluffy stuff. Casey and Adam have built a 4-person igloo in the front yard, schools are closed, cars immovable, etc.
These were all good stories... I am particularly fond of Luke v. Rat and will suggest to my sister on a future telephone call that she may want to look into getting another cat.
I pray you have safe travels home. BWI got hit with a record of some 74" or 84" of snow as of yesterday. So, I hope you have your snow boots with you cause you'll surely need 'em! We've got 4' here in VA so it's not much better. And keep hanging in there and holding your head high - only time will heal you and you have plenty of that left in your lifetime. We love you and miss you & hopefully can see you soon!
The rat story is hilarious! While I can certainly understand you feeling some depression and PTSD symptoms (and would be more concerned if you denied feeling that way), I think it's a very encouraging sign that you can still find and share so much humor in the Luke vs. rat story! Lots of love, Meem
Post a Comment