Slicing & Dicing: Outside the operating room

So, I heard that my last blog post caused a few tears. That was not at all my goal. I was just writing how I felt and I pounded that out during the first few hours I was hanging in the hospital lobby. 

I thought you all would like to know that my dad’s surgery went well, as well as possible actually, and at the moment we are kind of in a holding zone until we are able to figure out the next course of treatment. But he is in good spirits and rather active. Almost too active. He has been taking the dog for a walk and helped trim our living room and dining room when it was decided that it needed painting. NOT my decision. Nor was painting it hungover, but that is another story.

Now, knowing that he is doing just fine at the moment, allow yourself to smile as you read about my mom’s and my experience on the day of the surgery.

“Kaaaateeeee you got 5 min!” I heard my mom shout as I threw on a jacket over my stripped shirt and jeans. It was 7:40 and we had planned on leaving at prompt 7:45. The surgery wasn’t scheduled until 12 noon, but patients had to be there at 9am to fill out paperwork, get prepped, and make sure they got as many anxious waiting hours in as possible. 

I hadn’t slept, nor had my parents I was sure, though it wasn’t confirmed until post surgery. The past few drives to USC I usually laid out nicely across the back seats and passed out. Cutting the reality of the 55 min drive to a meager 3. Their were perks to not having siblings. And that was exactly what I had planned on doing that morning. 

“Here,” my mom shoved a piece of paper in my hand as we walked out the door, “You’re co-pilot.” I glanced down to see a list of freeway numbers scrawled in my mother’s notoriously poor handwriting. Where were my siblings now? 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” I was immediately shot a, “NOT NOW KATE” glance. Ugh. But in fact it was not a good idea. I knew it, she knew it, my dad knew it, even the universe knew it. Anyone that knows me knows that I am terrible at directions. So terrible in fact that it actually borders on impressive. 

I vividly remember picking up my friend Tori right after receiving my driver’s license to go to the mall. She hopped in and we giggled about how exciting this was as we reversed out of her driveway. I paused and put my hands to my forehead and closed my eyes envisioning the mall. “OK. Del Amo.” I repeated aloud deep in thought. Mapping out how to get to the mall that was at most 2 miles away. “Seriously,” to stunned to yell, Tori turned to face me, shock bordering on disappointment written all over her face. She smirked and shook her head. “Calm down we’ll get there!” I retorted. And in fact we did. Only after I gave up at the stop sign at the end of her street and asked her which way to turn. She directed us the rest of the way there. 

Nowadays my directionally gifted friends offer to drive me places to get around my rarely discussed “handicap”. It benefits all parties involved. This way they can be sure I will show up at all, and I, in turn, arrive on time and significantly less sweaty. 

I was already starting to perspire as I stared at the different freeways we were going to tackle while trying to make out the “helpful notes” scrawled between each. My mom was determined to exclude my Dad from any driving duty on the day of his tumor removal. But the rigid positions we had all assumed in the car only added to the unspoken stress. We had the female driver who sat at a rigid 90 degree angle, and whose hands never strayed from the 10 and 2 o’clock position, the beautiful, younger, exhausted female trying desperately to decipher the barely legible nurse shorthand fast enough, and we had the backseat male passenger who was doing his best at following orders NOT TO WORRY about anything. Shockingly, we arrived on time, in one piece and with smilies. It was one for the books.

After parking where we always park, the office structure, we were regulars after all, we headed to the surgeons office in what was essentially the “cancer building” to pick up labs to take to the hospital. We arrived on the 4th floor and followed the signs yelling HEAD AND NECK, there was no hiding why we were there. On our way I passed the COLON sign and cringed. It could be worse. 

As we waited for the labs under the Head & Neck sign that must have been in 7,000 point font, my mom let out what was officially the most obvious statement of the day. “You know,” she began, “I always think of head and neck cancer as rare, but when you’re here, it’s like, pffff everyone has it!”  

I looked at her blankly and she raised her eyebrows almost excited at her observation, 

“Oh hey mom, I forgot to tell you who called.” 

“Who?” She asked wondering where the conversation took a turn.

“Captain Obvious, he wants his powers back.”

She chuckled as did I. It was one of our favorites after learning it from my friend Lauren in her days as an elementary teacher. Somewhere along the line my mom and I took a silent vow to use it as often and creatively as possible. I mentally gave myself 100 points for that one.

We got the labs and walked across the courtyard to the hospital lobby. Signed in the patient and his entourage and took badges. “So this is where we hang huh?” I asked walking past the fish tank that I mentally added to my “list of things to stare at while we wait”. My mom had done this twice before. “Yup,” my mom answered. “And how long do we think we will be here?” I asked merely out of curiosity. She shot me another look. Well, this was Friday. 

The three of us had our sights set on a cluster of chairs near the coffee station, prime location. I looked around as we passed families of all ages and races, that had clearly been there since the early hours of the morning. It was only 9am and I couldn’t image getting there any earlier. After reaching our seats and listening to a family next to us speaking Spanish, and across the way Mandarin, I realized how much I missed the lack of diversity in Japan. At least I was single handedly able to bring the diversity wherever I went.

To keep ourselves busy we had brought all kinds of entertainment. I had packed a book, my newly purchased Mac, and a magazine. My mom was ready with crocheting tools a book and snacks that were to serve as lunch. My dad was content with last nights choice of the sports page. It was no Sports Illustrated Swimsuit edition, but what were you going to do. 

I went to the bathroom and returned to learn that my dad was going to be moved to the pre-op room soon and only one guest was allowed. I hugged my dad goodbye and my mom walked with him, ready to support him and talk to any doctor in her “discharge planner voice” if need be. There was no question she was going to make sure things went smoothly. 

I got comfortable in my seat and read a little though absorbed nothing. I opened my computer and was pleasantly surprised to find that USC Univ. Hospital had free wi-fi! I had brought my charger so the possible ways to entertain myself were endless, who needs books when you can watch TV online?

I was getting set up to watch an episode of Bones when another elderly couple came over, with who was presumably their adult daughter. I smiled and they asked if the remaining chairs around our little table area were taken. I said, no, and encouraged them to sit. I thought about how cute it was that their family appeared to have the same make up as mine, just 20 years down the line. The parents were older and the dad walked with a walker; clearly the weakest of the three I pegged him as the patient. I began contemplating what part of him was going to be sliced and diced. The wife stood by him ready to assist with anything, and the daughter plopped down and began reading, glancing up between pages. 

I have discovered that I have an almost unlimited amount of patience and sympathy for any older person, that is, one that isn’t my parents. I feel for these folks and all they have been through, but when I see my parents aging, I just get mad. Almost as though it is their fault for not out running age. Ludicrous, I know, but it’s true.

I watched as this man tirelessly decided where he was going to sit. He was trying to figure out how to go from his walker to the chair, which from the looks of things seemed to be a long way down. His walker had a seat attached and I wondered why he didn’t just sit there, but I sure has hell wasn’t about to say anything. The “where am I going to sit, and how am I going to get there” issue was going on far longer than it needed to. Finally, the wife suggested, as if the idea had just come to her, why doesn’t he just sit on the walker seat?! Eureka! And so he did. At which point he looked at her and said, “What are you doing?”

I was fascinated by this entire family and with this latest question, I was perplexed to say the least. Headphones in, but on mute, I was on full alert. What the hell did he mean? They had driven all the way out here, checked in, and he had literally just sat down and now wanted to know, what she was doing? The wife answered with a calm I didn’t expect, “Well, I am waiting for them to call your name.” He shrugged. I furrowed my brow. If this woman had to deal with this daily either she was either bordering on sainthood or this is what true love looked like. Wow. 

For me this translated to, maybe I’m not as patient as I thought, along with, I am soooo not ready for marriage.

I was thinking about this, as a rather obese man with a huge neon orange ankle cast was wheeled in by his super fit wife, and I wondered what their home life was like. He checked in and opted for seats on the other side of the room. Damn.

At last the curious, walker toting man was called and he slowly stood with the assistance of his walker. The receptionist came over to take him and his wife. After my mom had asked earlier, the receptionist remembered to remind the daughter that this was the last time she would see her dad pre-surgery. The daughter simply said, “ok” and gave a wave, never so much as vacating her seat. Innnnterrrresting, I thought as my psychology degree went to work trying to figure out the family dynamics. 

As her parents walked away, the daughter glanced in my direction. I smiled, “That’s why I am here too”, I said. She smiled, “Well I’m just glad I’m on this side of the wall,” she said with a chuckle. Innnnntereeeesting again. I laughed and began to write my blog, making a note to investigate later.

It was another 2 hours before my mom came back to say that they had wheeled him in. I was done with my blog and desperately had to pee. I had consumed 2 cups of crappy coffee while I watched the elderly man trying to decide where to sit. 

When I came back I asked how it went. 

She explained that for every doctor that is in the room, their is a med student shadow that can only be described as, “working his ass off to be that guy in a few years”, effectively doubling the number of people in the room. Given that we were at a teaching hospital that was to be expected, but she did say it was rather crowded. My mom proceeded to explain that their were some labs that they didn’t seem to have and she had to put her, Case Manager/Discharge Planner hat on to make it happen. 

A registered nurse, her daily job is coordinating with insurance companies and nursing homes to make sure that patients have somewhere to go when they leave the hospital. If paperwork is missing or a doctor hasn’t signed off on something, she does everything in her power to make sure it happens. And when that hat is on, people generally are quick to give her what she needs. After getting the labs and MRI to the operating room, she had become BFFs with the nurses prepping my dad and they apparently bonded over how broken “the system” is. Lesson learned: Stay healthy.

My mom began to tell me the tales of those she had seen up on the operating floor and I was increasingly jealous I didn’t get to go and observe. She started to tell me about this morbidly obese man that was wheeled in by his thin wife. 

“I saw him!” I shouted, “With an orange cast?”

“Uh huh, uh huh. Man he was huge.” She shook her head.

Mind you, she worked in a hospital that had gastric bypass (stomach stapling) surgery, and before the operations they would give group patient tours of the hospital. So it was not like she hasn’t seen her share of large people. Not even mentioning the day to day patients. 

I remember her and my dad coming home after work, they worked at the same hospital, talking at dinner about how the hospital had started getting in double wide wheelchairs, scales that went to higher numbers than they had in the past, they also explained to me that people that are bed ridden or simply too large to move are placed on beds with sand so as to avoid bed sores. All this while I fought not to eat my string beans. If I complained my mom would add a few more before whisking me off to soccer practice. No obesity in this house. No sir. 

All this exposure has left my mom with a unique skill, the ability to guess people’s weight. She specializes in those over 300 lbs.

“I said to Dad, he has to be at least 450.” She said staring at her coffee, as I ate my chocolate chip scone, already wishing it was a banana.

“No way mom, he wasn’t that big.” I always feel like she gets a little carried away with her guesses.

“That’s what Dad said, but Kate I’m telling you. I was listening.” Oh God. “I heard him say he was currently 455 and had recently lost 50lbs. I was trying to hear what he was in for but, the doctors starting talking about what they were going to do to Dad and I couldn’t shussh them.”

“Good choice. This is what I don’t understand,” I went on, “if he weights 455 lbs now, wasn’t 300 like some sort of red flag?”

“You would think.”

I promised myself a run the following day.

Is it a skill she should be proud of? Sure, why not. I revel in the fact that I can’t direct myself around the block, why shouldn’t she add this to her resume.

For then next few hours we rotated between reading, writing, eating, emailing, updating people, talking to each other and those around us.

A few hours later the older woman had come back and after a round of smiles someone finally spoke. Initially the conversation started as where were they from and how did they get here. They happened to be from Torrance, the town over from our little Redondo and I learned that the daughter, living in Laguna, was just up for the surgery. Without so much as prompting, the elderly woman leaned over to my mom to say that this surgery was completely her husband’s choice. He was here for a new anal sphincter (??) I new what anal was and I new what sphincter was, but I just couldn’t picture it. Maybe it was for the best. The lady continued to explain that her husband just couldn’t handle his incontinence anymore. 

I thought I knew the word but wasn’t sure. I thought best to check with the “expert”. My friend Lindsey is currently in her 1st year of med school in Boston was talking to me on gchat. Still not sure if I was even supposed to be involved with the current conversation, I pretended to be focused on my computer. 

I typed, “Incontinence? Isn’t that where they can’t go?” 

“Where they can’t control it,” she responded. The fact that she was unfazed by the question really says something about our friendship.

It was already more than I wanted to know.

After another few hours, it was now 5 pm, we got a call that my dad was out of surgery and we were waiting for him to wake up. We talked to the doctor and then were handed a restaurant buzzer that would go off when he was awake. We packed up our things and waited for the little red lights to flash letting us know that our loved one was coherent. Oh boy!

Bags packed we headed to his room, and inevitably got lost. If it’s possible, my Mom is worse than me when it comes to directions. We finally found his room, though not before my Mom checked that the coast was clear and read his chart. We were greeted with a completely functioning Mr. Bohan. Aside from the massive scar on his left neck and shoulder area, the jury is still out on if it looks more like a freeway map or the result of a knife fight, he was great.

We found the Laker game and waited for his dinner to arrive. And waited, and waited, and waited. After confirming he was ok and appeared to be healing, I was becoming increasingly bored. I played on my computer, my Dad read the paper and my Mom tried to initiate conversation to no avail. Sitting on the side of his bed she threw her chap stick is the air and tried to see how many times she could hit it, preventing it from hitting the ground. Wow.

“Oooo that was 12!”

No one commented. 

Amish chap stick game inventor

“Come on Kate, I bet you can’t beat me.”

I raised only my gaze over my computer and gave her my best, You’re kidding right, look. “Does anyone else feel Amish?” I asked. My Dad smiled, my Mom wouldn’t let it go.

“Oh Kate come on just try.” I think we may need to rearrange the parent/child labels. 

I got 10 and sat down as my grown mother beamed. Alright, where the hell was my Dad’s dinner?!

Finally dinner arrived ending the inflight chap stick game. Thank God. He ate it all. We were ever so proud. We met the night nurse as we kissed him good bye and headed to retrieve our car. As we left we heard her give him a pee time ultimatum. 

“I’ll give you till 9pm to pee,” she said in her Tagalog accent as we exited. 

“Or else what?” I whispered to my RN Mom.

She cringed and chuckled, “I think she might cath him.”

PEE DAD PEE!!!

He did. Again, so proud. 

We arrived the next day to retrieve him, and we took him home to hang and rest, giving him a new location to cheer on the Lakers and witness all gazillion of the March Madness games. It appears no one else will be watching TV for a while, but I think he earned this one :)

Thanks for all the support, it means so much,

Kate

Stateside: With a Cobb Salad of Emotions

Yes, I said cobb salad. Since arriving back in sunny California a week ago in an effort to remove myself from Japan’s nuclear situation, I have felt happy, sad and everything in between. As I was falling asleep last night I was trying to figure out how to describe the plethora of emotions swirling inside me, a task which turned out to be tougher than I realized. A roller coaster of emotions wasn’t an accurate description, because I don’t really have highs and lows. A whirlwind of emotions didn’t work either as these emotions are not happening all at once, nor are they swirly, or even windy. A cobb salad. Yes, that is the correct term. I have been made up of about 7 different emotions that are all somewhere within me and seem to rotate in intensity, just as with each bite of the salad. Sometimes more tomatoes than chicken, other times the bite is completely covered in dressing masking any actual salad flavor. At the moment this is me. 

March for me was supposed to consist of a visit from Jessica and Julia, with all of us embarking on a trip to Hiroshima. Then celebrating the last week of school with some of my favorite middle school teachers before they are rotated out to other schools. I was then planning a week in Korea to visit a friend, all the while attending various events as Tokyo’s Irish Parade Queen. All until April 2nd where I was going to attend a massive daylong concert in Tokyo, called SpringGrove with big name artists. I was thrilled. I was creating a life for myself. I had a job, great friends, awesome co-workers, a darling apartment, and amazing experiences that I did my damndest to create and take advantage of. To boot, all of this was in a foreign country. I was so proud of myself.

And then the tectonic plates decided they just couldn’t hold it any longer.

What resulted was the largest earthquake in quite sometime, followed by tsunamis and a nuclear crisis. Devastation everywhere.

The earthquake happened on a Friday afternoon. By Sunday night, as the nuclear system was not under any type of control, nor could anyone really explain it to me, I was considering going home. I called my parents when I woke up at 10am Monday morning, I didn’t have work as Saturday was graduation. By 11am with the assistance of both my parents, a visiting Ed Bardzik (expedia member!) and one of my best friends Lauren on speaker phone, I had a plane ticket booked for the 6pm flight that night. Throughout the entire conversation I was under the impression that this was a temporary visit home. I said something along the lines of, 

“Well I can do that when I get back to Japan,” and my mom responded, 

“You want to go BACK?!” 

I lost it. 

How could I not come back?! My life that I worked so hard to create is here, I couldn’t just leave it. I had dinner plans, I was supposed to go as a guest to an adult english class, I was supposed to do laundry and go to the bank. I realize how superficial it all sounded, but I felt like I was literally being ripped away from everything that had become so familiar to me in the past 7 months.  

I couldn’t think about it. I had, at most, 3 hrs before I had to leave for the airport, whether or not I would make my flight was still up for grabs. I wiped my tears and sucked it up.

I called the other JETs who graciously came over to help me pack. I opened my closet and starting flinging my favorite things on my bed. Sinapi sat on the bed rolling the clothes I chucked at her. Jessica was on skype, calming me down while checking the baggage allotment for Singapore Air. She confessed that watching me pack was making it real and essentially scaring her. While she was way in the north and safe from the radiation scare, the main reason I was leaving, she was also essentially stranded. The airport she usually flies out of is Tokyo’s Narita, which was up and running, though the only way she could get there was by bullet trains, which were not. The airport closest to her was Sendai, which was under water. I assured her she would be fine, and meant it. At the moment she is still there, though I know her family wants more than anything to have her back in the states. 

Getting me ready to leave, both mentally and physically was a team effort for sure. Kim was there chatting with us and promising to look after my mail. She had my spare key and said she would keep an eye on the place. I told her to help herself to the lot of food I had just purchased. I took a 5 minute break from packing and scarfed down some pasta, I asked the girls to drill me on what I actually needed for my flight. All we could come up with was my passport and some cash. That in itself was a reality check. 

Ian came over with a scale and we checked that my bags made the cut. They did. Maya came over to call and see if the trains were running. They weren’t. If I was going to make it to the airport I had to leave now. I would have to take a cab, if I could get one, and their was no telling what the traffic would be like on the one lane roads, nor how hectic the airport would be. 

Maya, Ian and Sinapi kindly offered to walk me to the train station, where we hoped to find a cab. It was about 1:15pm when we walked out the door. After exiting my somewhat hectic apartment filled with frantic Skype calls, rushed planning and hectic packing, I walked outside to find Kamagaya as calm as ever. Why was I leaving again? Once again, I didn’t have time to wonder, I had a 9 hour flight to do that. I stopped at the ATM to take out some cash and transfer some money to my US account. I had been wanting to buy a new computer and decided I would when I got home. I was trying desperately to see some sort of silver lining. 

We got to the station to find it dark, an entirely new experience and no cabs in sight. Hmmm. As I turned around Maya yelled that one had pulled up. I ran to get him. The others followed and we loaded me in to the cab. Ian asked in Japanese how long it would take to get to the airport. The cabbie said he had no idea, but maybe 2 hours or more, a drive usually completed in about 30 min. I didn’t have a choice, nor did I have a choice that this was going to cost me about $170. Shogunai. I hugged everyone goodbye, there were tears everywhere. I had the most by far, as I have evidently been saving them since the earthquake hit. 

I got in the cab and cried for about the first 45 minutes of the drive. I felt for the cabbie, this was definitely NOT the Japanese way, but I couldn’t help it, and he knew that. In addition to sympathy looks, he turned around every so often to give me green tea, tissues and sweets. Through sniffles and tears I thanked him as much as I could. 

I arrived on time to a very busy, but organized and relatively calm Narita airport. Waited for over an hour to check in, but after that security and customs were a breeze and I sat at the gate eating sushi. I watched passengers file in from a plane that had just landed and wondered where they were going within Japan and why they got to arrive while I had to leave. 

My phone was on it’s last leg as I responded to emails and facebook messages explaining my decision to other JETs who were currently trying to choose between staying or going. All of us had the same problem, no one wanted to go but all of our families were begging us to get out. We were in two mindsets and their was no way to please everyone.

As I sat at the gate, I met a few kids my age all doing what I was doing. We were all heading somewhere in America, in the process, abandoning apartments, jobs or university programs until Japan was back on it’s feet. 

I started to feel guilty for not staying to help. I was so in love with this country that had accepted me with open arms over the past few months. We had a partnership, an understanding. I would try my best to learn Japanese, and do my best to teach English, while everyone in Japan would be patient with me as I learned and teach me about Japanese culture. Yet, here I was in the airport, fleeing, and essentially leaving Japan with an ultimatum. 

Listen Japan, as soon as you get it together and are safe enough to return, I’ll be back. 

What the hell kind of partnership is that?! 

Why do I get to go? Do I have higher standards since I was foreign born? And how was this country supposed to repair itself if I wasn’t going to help? I had been here 7 months now and felt just as at home here as I do in America, and here I was, leaving. That’s not right. Why do I get to leave?  Simply because I have the funds to buy a one way ticket out, and have somewhere else to go? That isn’t fair. All while my co-workers, friends and students were staying. What is going to happen to them? What about the crossing guard that waves good morning to me every morning as I ride my bike to school, who happens to be the grandfather of one of my favorite students, what will happen to him? What about the cab driver I just had? What about my Japanese teacher? What about my bosses at the Board of Ed who I meet with for weekly meetings? What about Tanaka-san who has taken on the position of my Japanese mother? What about my favorite teachers at school and their families who are all over Japan? 

They have to be having it worse than I.

I started to cry again at the gate. I turned away from the family sitting next to me and Skyped my Dad to let him know that I would be getting on the flight, and would be needing a ride from the airport. He was relieved. I felt sad, mad and guilty.

Despite all the tears, I hadn’t cried as much as I felt like I needed to and worried that I was saving them for the flight. I already felt for whoever I was going to be sitting next to. Good thing I had a window seat. 

I boarded the completely full plane to find out that somewhere along the line my 32 C window seat had become a middle 32 B. Sorry A and C. The girl in the aisle seat was a girl I had talked to while in line to check in. She was sweet and from San Diego. She had been visiting friends in Japan and cut her trip short due to the earthquake. She seemed completely content with her decision and had no qualms about returning. Clearly she wasn’t a resident of Japan. 

I arrived safely back stateside. Friends and family have been unbelievably supportive and people were coming from out of the woodwork to see that I was ok. I was so touched. The hugs were a little harder and there were relieved exhales all around. Everyone was glad I was safe, which felt great, but I am not quite as excited as they. Of course I am thrilled to be safe, and so thankful that I was in an area of Japan that was only somewhat effected. But what about everyone else? 

It seems daily, people will look at my parents and exclaim one or all of the following, “Oh thank God!  Oh I was so worried! You must be so relieved. Now you can stop worrying!” My mom confirms this with them, kisses me on the cheek and gives me a squeeze. I give a polite “thank you for your concern smile” and look down. I am no where near on the same page of relief. People have it much worse than I. My mind shoots back to everyone in Kamagaya and Japan. I am far from done worrying.

My first week back in CA, I went to a funeral for a family friend, and doctor’s appointments for my Dad’s cancer treatment. What the hell happened to my super fun month of March? My Dad’s cancer has resurfaced with a vengeance. Fucking cancer. Sorry, but that is the only appropriate adjective to describe it. You know it is.

The poor guy has been radiated, chemo-ed and cut open. As I sit here at USC Univ. Hospital, my Mom is with my Dad as they prep him for his 3rd surgery that is scheduled to being in 5 min. We have already been told that he will spend the night here tonight and that they will not be able to get it all. But we have to hope and pray for the best. 

I couldn’t go in because they only allow 1 visitor in the prep room, so we opted for the one with medical knowledge. I’m sure my mom will keep ‘em honest. My Mom told me that she was going to try and say that they had a small child. My dad and I laughed when she proposed this, I would love to see the doctor’s face when he saw Mr. Bohan’s 24 year old “child” walk in. 

Last night my little family of three prepared for surgery. My Dad had to stop eating at midnight and poor guy couldn’t have a beer with dinner. No alcohol. Lame. My mom and I packed snacks and entertainment. My Dad scoured our house for the reading material he would like pre and post surgery. He picked up a Sports Illustrated covered with players from the NCAA March Madness. I suggested the swimsuit edition that was sitting next to the Wall Street Journal in our kitchen, my we’re well rounded aren’t we?! As soon as I suggested it, I heard my mom from the other room,

 “Kaaaateee! Don’t you think that may be a littllleee inappropriate?” My dad laughed. “Not really mom. You know they get it too, and if nothing else he’ll make some friends while he’s in there.” I mean really, how funny would that be?! My mom rolled her eyes and in the end the LA Times Sports page was selected. Boring. 

With cancer and a nation disaster all happening simultaneously in my life I can honestly tell you, I have no idea what my next move is. Though I will be sure and share as soon as I figure it out. Right now lets just focus on one thing at a time, today that thing is cutting out cancer and Papa Bear making a full recovery. 

Positives thoughts and prayers welcome, 

Kate

Shake Until the World Notices: Japan's 8.9 Earthquake

*You all obviously have heard about the horrific 8.9 quake that hit north eastern Japan yesterday, March 11. I am writing this blog almost exactly 32 hours from when the quake hit and here in Chiba we are still feeling some shakes rather frequently. In order to try to give you some perspective of what is happening, every time I feel a tremor I will type, (shake) for each second the tremor lasts. Anything else I write in parenthesis is happening in real time as I write this.

This is my story…

“Keito Sensei, you can go home after lunch. We are just going to be (shake, shake) practicing for tomorrow`s graduation,” says my Kyoto Sensei (VP) to me. Well this never happens! I did my best to contain my excitement and show some respect.

“Oh wow! Are you sure that is ok? I`ll make sure Keima and Namiko don`t need anything first,” I knew they didn`t. He agreed that was a good idea. (shake, shake) I checked and indeed they said go home and enjoy the afternoon. SWEET!

I biked home after lunch eager to just sit. It has been a whirlwind since (shake, shake, shake) the entire Parade Queen extravaganza as I prepare for the parade on Sunday. (I will post about that, promise!) I was needing to pay bills, go to the grocery store as I had no food, study a bit of Japanese, do laundry, and pay rent. I was eager to be productive and put my life back together. I texted two of the other ALTs trying to convince them to somehow leave early and come play with me, but no such luck.

I paid a few bills on my way home, then snuggled on the couch watching TV on my computer. I committed myself to one more episode of Lie to Me and then swore that my productive afternoon would begin when that episode ended. (shake, shake, shake, shake, shake)

I was just getting sucked in when the house started to shake. Oh wow another earthquake, I thought, we had just had one Tuesday. Earthquakes are common here and I have felt quite a bit since (shake, shake, shake, shake) moving here.

This one seemed different. After about 10 seconds I sat up from lying down. It got stronger and louder. My little apartment is sturdy but sometimes even strong winds cause it to creak, so this was bordering on terrifying. About 15 seconds in, I stood up and looked around. This was one was different for sure. My (shake, shake, shake, shake shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake) mind shot back to elementary school, (shake, shake) and our earthquake drills. Get under the desk and protect your neck. That crossed my mind for a second but it was so loud and so powerful, and as a first floor resident I wanted to be (shake, shake) nowhere (shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake) inside. I opted for the outdoors.

I grabbed my phone and walked outside. As soon as I decided to exit, I got scared. To have to make the decision that this is a dangerous enough situation to take action, made it real. It didn’t help that I was alone either. I walked out and was greeted by crying kids, only confirming my suspected severity of the situation. That was exactly how I felt. My fellow evacuees and I found a spot with nothing but blue sky above us. I had my eyes fixed up in case anything was to fall. I watched a park car roll back and forth and wondered if it was going to be set in motion by all this. Car alarms started to go off. I hugged myself hoping it would stop as quickly as it came. No such luck. At one point, after about a minute of solid shaking, (shake, shake) it slowed and the fellow working on the house next door and I made eye contact, and nodded that that was most likely the end. We both took a step toward our respective homes. There was another huge shake. I retreated back to my original spot, now holding back tears. The crying kids were now accompanied by an ambulance roaring in the distance. Stop stop stop stop, pleaseeee. Finally it did stop enough to go back inside. It had been about 3 minutes.

I gingerly walked back inside and slowly opened the door to my apartment. Things had fallen off shelves, but nothing major. In my kitchen, a cabinet had opened, and for dramatic effect was swinging when I walked in. The spices from the cabinet (shake, shake) had landed on the floor. Two bottles of canola oil had also fallen from the same cabinet and opened, I had oil all over my floor. I felt like I was visiting a (shake, shake) crime scream. I did a lap of my tiny apartment not knowing what to do. I didn’t rush to clean anything up, almost delaying the reality of the situation (shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, SHAKE, SHAKE, shake, shake, shake, shake…news ding dongs signifying breaking news, just notified us of another quake in Fukushima, 6.0).

In a lame attempt to do something I threw a paper towel on the floor and watched it become immediately engulfed by oil. I stood glued to the ground in complete shock. The house began to shake again. You’ve got to be kidding, I thought. Again I exited the house, much quicker this time, I was getting better at this. This time I saw smoke in the direction of our local train station. Elementary school kids were arriving home from a local elementary school that I teach at, all of them in tears. (shake, shake) This one was just as powerful as the first, if not more so. I found myself widening my stance as I stood outside. This isn’t how this is supposed to go I thought, it’s supposed to last only a few seconds and stop. (News ding dongs again signifying breaking news, just notified us of another quake this time in Iwate, 4.0).

When it finally did stop, I went back inside to get a sweatshirt as it was now cold out, and going in and out was becoming a regular event. I left my Uggs on. One shake and I’m out. 

I turned on the news and immediately goggled “Japan earthquake” and was greeted with twitter posts that were rolling in by the second. Tried to text, couldn’t; tried to call, couldn’t. Went to Facebook and used it as a way of communicating with anyone I knew in the area.

A picture of the TV, initial tsunami warnings.

Immediately I wanted to check on the other Kamagaya ALTs. I wanted them home.

Sinapi’s status read… OMG huge earthquake!! My whole school has evacuated to the field, kids crying, so scary!!!

The kids! I totally forgot about all my middle schoolers who I had just left. I emailed the teachers I worked with, and Jessica in the north. I updated my Facebook status as an invitation for comments. I wanted to talk to someone. I wanted a hug. By now about 30 min had passed and the ground hadn’t really come to a complete halt. I took my phone and went outside, so the shaking wouldn’t be as intense. I walked up and down our alley just so I could be closer to the families who were now all outside. 

Via Facebook I talked to Jessica’s grandmother in the US. Jessica’s younger sister Julia was supposed to come visit today and we were all going to go to Hiroshima this week. That is no longer happening. L Sorry Julia, you will come one day I promise!

Also, via Facebook Sinapi urged me to come to her school which is around the corner. On my way there I met Kim who was arriving home. We walked to the middle school together as she told me she was in her elementary school classroom when the earthquake hit. It had now been about 2 hours, Sinapi was still at school with all the students who were only allowed to leave if their parents come to retrieve them. Kim and I found everyone on the field, and gave Sinapi a hug as soon as we saw her. As we separated from our hug, it began to shake again as was obvious by the rattling windows, the 3 of us glanced up to look and took a step back. We discussed the damage we knew of.

-Fallen things in our apartments.

-Kim confirmed the fire I saw as she passed it on her bike ride home. It was a little restaurant.

-The water pipes broke at our local grocery store and there was flooding, so evidently I was going to have to go with plan B for dinner.

Sinapi had to stay at school. We peaked in the teacher’s room and looked at all the fallen papers and books. Sinapi’s desk had moved about 3 inches. I got back to little JET village and saw Ian was home. I had yet to clean up the mess, but didn’t want to be in my apartment, nor alone. I went to Ian’s and we watched live coverage on BBC. I showed up to his house with a blanket and Reese’s pieces. I wasn’t hungry or cold, but both were making me feel better. There were constant strong aftershocks and every time, we stopped mid conversation debating whether or not to go outside. Ian’s girlfriend, my friend, Maya, was stuck at work. She is an elementary school teacher at an international school about an hour away by train. No trains were running, so she had to stay put. When we talked to her at midnight that night, she was still there with about 35 kids that they had just put to bed. I talked to another friend who walked 5 hours home, since the trains weren’t running. Another ALT was stuck in a train for a few hours without a clue what was going on.

Teacher's room at Sinapi's school. A block from my apartment.

A few hours of tsunami warnings and devastating news later, we had to get out of the house. We opted for McDonald’s. The four of us showed up to a shockingly crowded McDonald’s. I ate only half of my chicken sandwich set. All of us had our middle school graduation the next day, and we debated if it was going to happen.

After “dinner” we got back to our little apartment complex and basically stopped outside. No one wanted to be alone. The aftershocks were still strong and when you’re alone, it can be beyond stressful. Sinapi, Ian and I headed for my apartment where we absent mindedly watched an episode of Lie to Me before resorting to chatting and drinking, all as we constantly checked our iphones to update family and friends. We decided that every time the house shook we would drink. We all needed some kind of distraction and a few good laughs. Apparently we weren’t the only ones to come up with this little drinking game, I talked to other friends today who did the same thing. We drank and chatted until well past 3am. We all had to go to work at 8, but sleep wasn’t going to happen for anyone. Hugging my stuffed dog, and covered in blankets, I watched tv for a bit and got maybe an hour of sleep total. I was 24 going on 7.

I woke up exhausted and texted Keima one last time confirming that graduation was still on. He said yes, so I hopped in the shower. Still with limited food, I had to borrow rice from Sinapi to eat for breakfast. She confessed that she didn’t sleep at all.

When I got to school I found I was significantly less stressed just by being surrounded by people. It was familiar and I wasn’t alone. Not only that, it was business as usual, a surprisingly nice distraction. A few teachers checked that I was ok, and asked if I felt it…um YA! But that was about the extent of the conversation. I changed into my suit, and got ready for the formal graduation. (shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, shake) Their were tremors throughout the entire ceremony.

After school I came home and passed out. Woke up to hear about the nuclear explosion and was told to stay inside until they figured out exactly what was happening. Then we got an ok to leave so I rushed to the store, to stock up on everything. There was no bread, meat or bottled water, but everything else was there. After arriving home, I put some stuff in a backpack incase I need to run out the door again for whatever reason. I (shake, shake, shake, shake, shake) filled my tub in case we lose water, and put candles out in case we lose power.

No meat.

I am sleeping on my couch because in my room I have a huge dresser that literally has the potential to crush me. So I figured this way I have one less thing (SHAKE, SHAKE) to worry about. 

I haven't felt legitimately scared in a long time though it is so comforting to be surrounded by ALTs. I also came to the realization that this is effecting me on another level because when I signed up for JET I could have been placed anywhere. ANYWHERE. I consider myself extremely lucky to be where I am. Their are JETs in all the places that you all are hearing on the news. Please send prayers and positive thoughts their way. 

The latest: 

                   -Julia is not coming to visit.

                   -I am not going to Hiroshima.

                   -The St. Patrick's Day parade has been canceled.

                   -Maya made it to her parents house nearby.

                   -A few trains are up and running. 

                   -The tsunami warning does not effect me.

                   -We are monitoring the radiation. I am far enough away that I should be ok, though if the winds change we could be effected. I talked with a friend who checked and reported that the winds for the next few days will be blowing off shore. If that is the case, all would benefit. Let's hope, Japan is due for a break. 

I will update you with any new information. Though do know, that I feel completely safe, a little rattled, exhausted and on edge, but safe. 

Shake, Shake,

Kate

P.S. Make and earthquake kit. Seriously.

Festival O' Snow

A few weeks ago, I headed to the very north of Japan with Jessica and a few friends to experience, Sapporo's snow festival. It was on my list of things to do while I was here in Japan, and man was that a good choice. The festival was spectacular and the group we went with made the trip that much more amazing! 

As Jessica was part of the group I went with, she too blogged about it in her fabulous blog, Adventures in Japan. She did such a great job writing about it, that I asked if I could borrow her entry for my own. 

Jessica wrote 90% of the following, I simply tweaked it a bit and added my own pictures. She's a great writer, enjoy!

I'm going to preface this entry by saying that I couldn't possibly begin to capture the essence of this trip through a blog entry or pictures. That would involve posting several one-liners and links to youtube clips that would only be mildly funny to you, the reader, and probably lead you to think that we went crazy being stuck together for so long. Quite the contrary.

The destination? Sapporo, Hokkaido. The crew? Ben, Michael, Kate, Whitney, Ikumi, Joel, and me. The itinerary? The Sapporo Snow Festival (and ridiculous shenanigans, of course). A trip made for success.

Our entire adventure began Thursday evening (February 10th, to put it into perspective). My dear friend, KEITO CHAN, was arriving from Chiba to join us! Already in the car were Ben (driver), Joel, and me. After swooping her up from the train station, we were off to the grocery store to buy dinner. Kate and I, being the two people that we are, were entirely predictable. Any guesses as to what we chose? If you thought crackers, cheese and salami...you are RIGHT! Also, throw in some Pringles and chocolate-covered almonds in there for good measure. My, aren't we healthy? We met up with Michael, who was already at Ben's house, and feasted upon our junk food while watching youtube videos (hence the reference to it above) and reading excerpts from a book called Tokyo Confidential. It's a must-read for anyone that has been, is in, or will be going to Japan. Shocking stories.

The book is seriously worth the investment.

Snack plate babayyy!

The next morning came early, with a 45 minute drive to Hachinohe train station to meet Ikumi and Whitney and a 10 minute cab ride to the ferry terminal. Let me pause right here...we are currently at seven people total in the group. The original plan until about a week before the trip  was to cram seven people into a kei car, take the ferry to Hokkaido, and then drive another two hours to Sapporo. With seven people. (By the way, a kei car is a very compact car that are common in Japan; they're very economical and I don't know what they're called kei cars). After purchasing our tickets, we jumped on the ferry, eager to begin the eight hour boat ride to Hokkaido.

Let me tell you, the ferry was nothing like I had expected! 

Aaw! Happy people! It turns out, we had a ton of room to spread out, there was an onsen to get all fresh and clean, and a restaurant (final verdict on the food: first ferry food= bad; second ferry food=good). A few naps, a lunch at the restaurant and a walk outside (Japanese air circulation is non-existent), we finally arrived in Hokkaido. Oh happy day! Our bus ride to Sapporo was uneventful and most of all, we just wanted to shower. Two hours later, we arrived in the awesome city of Sapporo. It's a large city like San Francisco nestled in the snowy mountains. The landscape was a beautiful contrast.

Our group had split up and reconvened for dinner not too far from our hotel in the Susukino area, which I later found out is a prime spot for partying. We found ourselves at a seafood izikaya, a restaurant offering a plethora of sea creatures sliced, diced and cooked at our whim. Sounds tasty, doesn't it? Well, we had a grand time. Michael's Australian friend, Matt, joined us along with his Australian friends, and because we're foreign, we got put in the back of the restaurant. Probably a good decision on the restaurant's part. Things got rowdy after the 3rd or 4th round of double whiskey shots and my camera was able to capture a few of the ensuing moments.

Whiskey shots...ew

Between departing from the restaurant and heading to karaoke, we lost half the group. The Americans got a bit too wild for the Australians, and they headed home. In reality, they had a big day of travel in front of them, but I think that some of them had one double whiskey shot too many and couldn't handle it. Well, the show must go on! So our smaller, but no less special, group headed to towards karaoke. Ben's friend from high school is not only doing JET, but was also in Sapporo with some of her JET friends. They already had a karaoke room reserved. Perfection. After finally locating the correct Big Echo (a nationwide karaoke chain), we quickly made ourselves at home, added our songs to the playlist and got to singing. The usual shenanigans ensued.

Sapporo's finest

This is what 110% looks like.

Because we were in a big city, McDonald's was the natural choice for our post-drinking meal, so off we went. Kate and I ordered our regulars (black pepper Shaka Shaka chicken and a Big Mac, respectively) and we all engaged in some pretty hilarious conversations that will never be recalled, unfortunately. You're all disappointed. We returned to the hotel, which would be a good time to show you how large our room was. We were able to fit five of us in there...pretty impressive.

The next morning we dragged ourselves out of bed at a reasonable hour, got ourselves a breakfast of champions at a convenny, and headed to the snow festival. Oh yes! The motivation for the entire trip. Essentially a series of snow and ice sculptures spread throughout the city, the Sapporo Snow Festival has been attracting people from all over Japan for over 60 years. We had seen a few the night before in Susukino, but today was totally focused on seeing everything. What we learned that day: the city of Sapporo and the vendors at the festival probably didn't take advantage of any native English speakers to proofread their signs; boots meant for rain are not insulated enough to be walking around in on snow and ice; going to the snow festival at the end during a particularly warm week in February probably isn't the best idea; Hawaii is a country, or at least is meant to represent the entire United States; Food from the Americas was represented by something called the New York Burger, which seemed to be your standard  cheeseburger with a fried egg...oh yea, I have that all the time.

I CAN READ AND UNDERSTAND THIS!
It really is the little things in life.

After adding a few to the crew, we headed over to the Sapporo Beer Garden for some nomihodai (all you can drink/eat). This particular nomihodai was limited to 100 minutes, so it was the goal of all 15 of us to shove as much Ghangis Khan and down as much Sapporo beer as possible in that time frame. The food was your standard yaki niku, with all lamb. The place provided plastic bags (which we assumed were to bag your clothes so they didn't stink of lamb afterwards) and bibs, so the grease splatter from the pan didn't stain anything. Charming. I decided the best way to go about this was to pace myself with the person next to me, who just so happened to be Joel. We're about the same size, although being a guy I believe him to have a much higher tolerance than me. I kept up, even with drinking darks and half/half...but I did lose count. Kate suggested we do a throwback to college days and keep count with marking on our arm. No one had a marker. Damn.

When our 100 minutes were all up, there was talk of karaoke, but we migrated to another bar that was known for its something or other. To be honest, I wasn't paying attention. Upon crossing its threshold, I felt like I was back in America. The place was full of gaijin. There were JETs from all over the country and several military as well, mostly from Aomori prefecture. I'm not sure how much time passed while we chatted and drank away, but we soon found ourselves, once again, at McDonald's. Shocker. We all had our same orders, except Kate had managed to convert Ben to the Shaka Shaka chicken. Well, this caused quite the stir! While Kate and Ben were "shaka'ing", a foreigner (we took to calling her Russian girl...not sure if she really was) behind us made a few comments about quieting down. No one in our group heard except me, so, being the intoxicated troublemaker that I was, encouraged them to continue "shaka'ing" louder, if possible. Russian girl commented even louder this time, "I need it quiet in here!"...and that just got us all laughing uncontrollably. First of all, it was 3am. What the hell was this girl doing at Mickey D's at 3am if she needed quiet? Everyone knows that's the post-drinking/drunk food stop! Of course, her comment encouraged Ben to move his "shaka" performance from our table to standing in the aisle, much to the delight of a couple of Japanese girls sitting next to us.

NOTE: Had the woman who commented been Japanese, we would've complied with her requests...it was simply because this lady was a gaijin at a McDonald's at 3am on a weekend asking us to quiet down. Ridiculous? Yes, I think so.

The next morning, we dragged ourselves to the ferry station to board our nine hour ferry back to Aomori. Although not exactly thrilled to end the weekend and return to our "normal" lives, it was certainly a trip to put in the books. Like I said, I don't think I was able to properly capture the essence of the trip through this entry...

The trip really was amazing, and Jessica did such a nice job capturing it! Hope you enjoyed having a guest writer!

Excited to cross something off her Japan to do list, 

Kate