My Drastically Changing Life
Having
accomplished a fairly large number of tasks in my life, I am constantly
struggling with remembering (which will be explained later) exactly when
certain events occurred and how they occurred. Just this last week, I couldn’t
truly or fully remember what I had accomplished the prior week. I’ve learned to
use some slightly “techy” tactics to aid me with my memory and I’ve also grown quite
accustomed to not fearing asking others for help in remembering certain things.
To aid me in compiling this story I’ve requested the help of my family, other
Peace Corps volunteers and relying on my own blog which I kept during my time
living abroad. I’ve become very assured in relying on my own words in my blog,
which was primarily used to update friends and family back in the United States
regarding what I was doing during my time in the Peace Corps. So, this story
begins a few years ago and as a result you will temporarily be traveling back
in time with me and my faulty memory.
Immediately after
graduating from high school I began college which as far as my faulty memory
can recall, was quite fabulous. After having successfully graduated from UC
Davis with a BA in English in December 2006, I found myself at a sort of
standstill because I hadn’t yet figured out what all of my education had
prepared me for professionally. Searching the internet for possible ways to
entertain myself during my post-collegiate life, I discovered the Peace Corps.
Frankly, I basically knew nothing about the Peace Corps, but it seemed as
though it could provide me with the desired time I needed to figure out the
next steps in my life. Considering that I was entirely unaware of the specific location
where I wanted to serve, I was able to select a box on my application that
stated, “Send me where I’m most needed.” My family was impressed and slightly
overwhelmed by this decision of mine because I was relinquishing all of my
potential control in this new situation. As a result, the individuals working
for the Peace Corps were allowed to place me in whichever country they felt an
English major would be desired. Technically, a college degree is not required
because opportunities are available where relevant job experience is allowed,
but most opportunities require a college degree.
So, in May 2008, I
had to travel to the doctor in order to complete all of my required medical
examinations. This involved me acquiring a handful of doctor’s signatures and
lab reports. And another important fact to mention is that I don’t really enjoy
needles. As in, I generally have to look over the doctor’s shoulder to a fixed
spot on the wall merely because I do not desire to watch the needle make
contact with my skin. On May 28, 2008 I received my rejection notice from the
Peace Corps because they declared that I was HIV negative-positive. Being
classified as HIV positive (which implies that I was carrying the human
immunodeficiency virus that potentially may lead to AIDs and would be carried
by my body indefinitely) meant that I would have to return to the horrible
doctor situation. My doctor then provided me with another lab report officially
proclaiming me HIV negative. Being rejected because I was potentially carrying
a deadly disease was frustrating. I don’t technically remember exactly how I
felt at the time, due to the memory issues, but common sense would suggest that
I was most certainly frustrated. I had never even remotely considered this
whole HIV situation before attempting to join the Peace Corps. I suppose that
this entire situation demonstrates how potentially ridiculous our medical
system can appear at times. When the Peace Corps reviewed my doctor’s amendment
to my medical information there was no further application required. They simply
accepted what I had initially submitted and continued proceeding forward as
they would have if the entire HIV situation had not been brought up. Obviously,
I would have rather avoided this entire situation. However, I respect and
appreciate the Peace Corps acting so diligently regarding their potential
employees.
So, based on my
current searching these days, the internet claims that the Peace Corps sends
Americans abroad to tackle the most pressing needs of people around the world. As
a fresh college graduate I found myself at a standstill. I majored in English,
but I had not found a profession where I felt as though my intellect and
education were being used. As a result, I figured that I’d try some other tasks
and I hoped that if I joined the Peace Corps, then during that time I would
hopefully establish a possible future career for myself.
Unfortunately for
me, the Peace Corps completely ignored (and possibly rightfully so) my strong
knowledge of the French language and instead sent me to some less-known area of
the world. Looking back on this, I can thoroughly realize the importance of not
sending Americans to well-known areas of the world where they would more than
likely find themselves enjoying a relaxing vacation as opposed to working hard
for the underprivileged people of that chosen location.
In June 2008 I
received my official acceptance to join the Peace Corps for the United States.
Having studied abroad in the country of France and considering myself slightly
fluent, or at least exceptionally aware of that language, I was secretly hoping
that I would be placed in a country where I would be able to use my French
language knowledge, but I specifically didn’t make any requirements during my
initial interviews. I mean, this is the Peace Corps, which I was simply
interested in pursuing; I wasn’t in any position to begin making demands
regarding location. Thus, having checked that box that stated that I could be
sent wherever the Peace Corps felt as though I was needed, I had virtually
relinquished control entirely. So, in June I received my Peace Corps invitation
(having been Fed-Exed to me) declaring the information that I was thus far
entirely unaware of. My packet stated the following crucial information:
Country of Service- Kazakhstan, Dates of service: August 18, 2008- November 7,
2010. Having traveled to numerous countries during my year studying abroad in
France (including France, Spain, England, Ireland, Switzerland, Germany,
Greece, Denmark and the Netherlands) I had honestly never heard of this
country, but I was still excited to be doing my part in continuing to explore
the world. After googling Kazakhstan, I found that it is south of Russia and
west of China. It is the ninth largest country in the world.
Before being
situated in my final location (or really before even leaving the United States)
all of the Peace Corps volunteers met in Philadelphia for our “staging”
process. This group of future volunteers spent three days completing campy get
to know you activities. This initial trip to Philadelphia provided us each with
an opportunity to become familiar with the other volunteers which helped to
make the entire Peace Corps experience slightly less daunting and which I found
more enjoyable because I derive energy from other people. In addition to
becoming familiar with the other volunteers and Peace Corps, we were all
instructed on a lot of safety issues. This is crucial in making sure that each
of the volunteers will be prepared for a wide variety of potentially unsafe (or
non-American) situations. For example, all of the volunteers were drilled on
don’t drink the water otherwise you’ll potentially become ill. Also, we were
told not to be out at night as it is unsafe. We were also told to use taxis as
our means of transportation and to wear our seatbelts even though the locals
didn’t. While all of us volunteers were located in Philadelphia we were placed
at an upscale Sheraton hotel in the downtown Philadelphia area with a small
allowance (a per diem). Our group of volunteers enjoyed our per diem and ended
up utilizing it by going to a nice restaurant and bar for dinner.
On our third day
in Philadelphia all of the volunteers boarded a bus in Philadelphia and headed
towards New York City. I found myself quite excited to be riding the bus with
one of my favorite volunteers. When we boarded our bus, he and I spent the
majority of our trip (where we were placed alphabetically) making comments
about the various people that we were reading about in my small collection of
fashion magazines. Joe ridiculed the model with her potential thoughts.
“It’s
unfortunate,” Joe declared in a feminine voice “the way that this yellow color
washes out my skin so terribly! I’ll bet that the other models aren’t being
forced to wear these outfits.”
“Bob must’ve had
it out for me,” I taunted “when he decided to have me make this particular
facial expression. Did he genuinely feel as though having me appear as though I
am sucking on a lemon would work well for this shoot?”
After this bus
ride our flight from New York brought our entire group of volunteers to
Frankfurt, Germany. The flight was unfortunately delayed about twelve hours so
we actually wasted time at the airport entirely exhausted from our journey thus
far and beyond excited to arrive in our assigned country. After the heinous
delay in Germany we did arrive in Kazakhstan. Then, once we had arrived in
Kazakhstan we had six more weeks of training to accomplish. This was to learn
the local customs, the language, our assignments and even more safety issues. Literally,
being exhausted from our staging session and then the delay in Germany, we
began our in country training. Literally, no rest for the weary.
Upon arriving in
Kazakhstan, each of the volunteers were assigned a home to live in, with the
locals. The first family that I was assigned to live with, the Peace Corps made
a colossal mistake and stated on the paperwork that I was a male, so the first
family that I arrived at was beyond confused because they had been preparing to
host an American boy as opposed to an American girl. My first family consisted
of a married couple and their two children. Initially not a single person in my
new host family knew a single word of English, except for the son who proudly
knew about five words and insisted on using them over and over again.
“Hello!” Azamat robotically
remarked from the breakfast table.
“Good morning
Azamat,” knowing that his vocabulary was sadly quite limited we sat at the
breakfast table in absolute silence.
“Thank You!” he
eventually responded.
I would then leave
the house to head to the school and he would proudly proclaim, “Goodbye” to me
as I left the house.
Aside from his
customary hello and goodbye Azamat also proudly knew a few adjectives. When I
would return home after teaching and I was attempting to use a tiny amount of
English around the house I’d question my host brother simply.
“Hello Azamat!” I
greeted, “How are you today?”
“Good” He
responded. “Thank you!”
A few weeks later
the Peace Corps realized what an awkward living situation they had placed me in
since the family had expected a boy. The Peace Corps moved me to my second
home. The second family apparently disagreed with the entire idea of bedroom
doors, so when I would be sitting at my desk writing a letter to one of my
friends back home in America, my 23-year-old host brother liked to come into my
room and simply watch me write my personal letters back home. The interest that
this younger guy took in me and my habits became very discomforting and felt
unsafe. The Peace Corps was so fabulous to me, a volunteer, during these times
so very shortly after moving in with my second family they abruptly moved me
into my third host living situation. Now, I was living in a home with three
host brothers ages 15-21 and I had my own bedroom with a door that locked. My
new host mother was the vice principal at the new school which I was training
at, because the entire idea behind this Peace Corps position was supposed to be
that I would be teaching English to students.
When I moved in
with this family with three boys one of the sons would go for a run with me so
that I would be safe. This same family had a basketball hoop set up in their
yard covering their Jaguar which they owned. It became highly entertaining to
listen to the Kazakh students attempt to converse in English with native
English speakers.
“Where you from?”
a local would politely ask me.
I would respond
simply with “America” and about eight times out of ten the Kazakh would respond
with, “Oh, California!”
Unfortunately, I
was actually from California so these unfortunate Kazakhs rarely learned from
me about the other 49 states in America. Whenever someone learned that I was
actually from California the response became sadly slightly familiar.
“Oh,” they replied
“Arnold Shwarzeneggar.” This was always followed by hysterical laughter.
I spent a fair
amount of time waiting to become situated in my own place and location to live that
began to feel somewhat permanent. I was finally located to my final location.
The city where I began to teach English to students was Merke, Kazakhstan.
After having lived with multiple host families I finally found myself a house
where I could live independently, which I began to call the farm. I have
trouble remembering my house exactly, but I vaguely recall that it didn’t
consist of very much. The other volunteers and I had essentially decided that
it felt like a place with not very much to it that you could potentially find
in the southern United States so therefore we deemed it “the farm”. I’ve asked
my parents why exactly my home was deemed “the farm” because considering that I
definitely do not remember, I hoped that they might recall why my new home had
acquired this name. Unfortunately, they mimicked the entire idea that it was an
essentially desolate area consisting of very little and it became simply
entertaining for me and the other volunteers to happily nickname it “the farm”.
The other Peace
Corps volunteers and I managed to find ways to visit one another, which was a
saving grace amidst all of our hours of working and teaching English to younger
students (about fifth grade). I always cherished the days where I was able to
be amidst other Americans.
I did have a break
from the farm when I was able to travel to Sweden for my old college roommate’s
wedding. It was an absolutely fabulous vacation from teaching English almost
nonstop since arriving in Merke. I had an absolute blast seeing some of my
American friends during this wedding and also for traveling outside of
Kazakhstan for a brief period of time.
I had been
planning to temporarily adopt a puppy. Another teacher, Saltanat owned a dog who
had a litter of seven puppies and she asked if I'd like to keep one of them at
my house until I moved back to America. This sounded great for a number of
reasons, the main one being that I get bored and puppies are cute! I had
planned to pick the puppy up from Saltanat's after my trip to Sweden. However,
when I made my way over there the puppy was much less excited about me than I
was about her. She was the last of the litter left and she had seen all of her
brothers and sisters shipped off. When Saltanat even tried to approach her she
ran screaming and crying into the garden. We spent 20 minutes trying to catch
the puppy and every time we got close she sounded as though someone had stepped
on her - yelping and squealing.
After 20 minutes,
I was feeling pretty unwanted and Saltanat was pretty tired. She told me she
would try and catch the dog and bring it to my house whenever she caught it.
Well, a week passed and no dog showed up at my front door. I had resigned
myself to the fact that the puppy and I were not meant to be, but made jokes
about how the puppy had no idea how good she would have had it if she had
simply wanted to be loved by me.
After a trip to
the "white house" (the toilets at our school), Saltanat, Dinara (the
other amazing new and young English teacher) and I came across an adorable
little puppy on the school grounds. I crouched down and called him to me and he
came galloping across the path up to my legs. He wasn't afraid of me at all.
Saltanat eyed me (knowing full well what I was thinking). I asked her if the
puppy was a stray and she asked the groundskeeper (who was standing nearby).
Sure enough, he had no home. Saltanat and Dinara encouraged me to adopt him and
I decided that when my lessons were finished I would think about taking this
dog home with me.
I spent one entire
lesson just looking out the window for the puppy. I was terrified he was going
to run off and I wouldn't be able to take him home. After the lesson, I told
Saltanat that I must go look for 'my' puppy. I had already claimed him,
apparently. When I got outside a bunch of 7th or 8th grade boys were working in
the yard (something they have to do in Kazakhstan). The puppy was just
wandering around them, trying to be one of the boys. I walked excitedly over to
him and pet him furiously. The boys got very excited about the puppy and
started asking me to translate things about him in Russian. He's black. He's a
boy, etc. Then they started picking on him, as Kazakh boys like to do. Dogs are
not pets. They are wild animals and can be dangerous. I was discussing with the
groundskeeper that I wanted to take the puppy home after classes. The boys
literally began tossing the puppy around and kicking him when I wasn't looking.
I scolded them and decided right then and there that the puppy was coming home
with me. I rescued the puppy from those boys and took him home with me.
And so, I provided
a home for this adorable homeless puppy. It took me a day (and an hour-long
Skype conversation with my friend Sarah) but I finally named him. Kairu
(kai-roo). It means "little black one" in Kenyan and while it may be
a little peculiar, I just couldn't escape the name. He's going to be one
cultured little puppy, let me tell you. He's already learning both English and
Russian ('come' in English, and the equivalent of 'no, stop that!' in Russian)
and he has a Kenyan name and I thought that he could one day visit America. He began
providing me with much entertainment and a lot more chores around the house. I
no longer came home and spent hours watching movies or reading books. Now, I
had to feed the dog, make sure he doesn't have any fleas, potty-train and (if I
ever got my hands on a collar/leash) I would take him for walks. Kairu became a
very welcome addition to The Farm. I grew to absolutely love having a pet dog
during my time in Kazakhstan.
Kazakh schools
have random breaks which are quite similar to holiday breaks and Spring breaks
in America. During one of these breaks some other fellow Peace Corps volunteers
and I took a quick trip to Thailand, during which I took a fair number of
pictures and remember thoroughly enjoying. In Thailand, where I and three other
volunteers traveled together, our group ended up temporarily splitting up in
order to find our own forms of enjoyment. I spent my time in Thailand primarily
with one of my favorite volunteer friends Andy. He and I decided that we’d
really enjoy doing some different and potentially exciting things. Andy and I
decided that we definitely wanted to explore Thailand in different ways. The
other couple who we had traveled with really desired to spend their entire time
on the Thai beaches, but Andy and I are from California so beaches aren’t
nearly as exciting. The two of us decided to partake on an elephant tour which
also included a river raft trip. The two of us were seated on the back of an
elephant, where a metal box was situated strapped around their stomachs. We
held on and enjoyed our slightly bumpy ride feeding the elephant some bananas
periodically when he threw his long trunk back gladly accepting his treats of
bananas. At the end of our trek on the elephant Andy and I disembarked from our
elephant and then we partnered up with a couple of other travelers for the river
portion of our journey. The four of us were placed on a bamboo raft that
appeared as though it had been designed that very morning. The four of us
attempted to mimic our captain who was essentially surfing down the river by
standing on his feet the entire time. Our group truly enjoyed this activity.
Each of us successfully managed to escape falling off of our raft and into the
river. After Andy and I had shared about four days together without our other
volunteer friends we decided to reconvene with them in Koh Samet where the four
of us enjoyed simply laying around on the beach and playing some Thai
foot-volleyball.
Shortly after our
return from Thailand I traveled to another city in Kazakhstan, Shymkent, to
visit one of my other Peace Corps friends and we had an absolute blast just
catching up and enjoying some good old American company. I truly enjoyed all of
my vacations, but even though Kazakhstan and America differ on quite a large
number of things, one being that seatbelts are practically never used in
Kazakhstan, I am still and probably always will be, an American at heart, so
even if no one in Kazakhstan ever wears their seatbelts I always insist on
wearing my own. So, when I hailed a taxi I always wore my seatbelt as was
required by the Peace Corps. Upon returning back to my home, I boarded a taxi
which had two other passengers already in it. On the road home the taxi encountered
a semi-truck headed in the opposite direction. The driver of the semi was
clearly (and unfortunately) intoxicated and as a result of his less than sober
driving his semi ended up crashing into our taxi, where I was the only
individual wearing a seatbelt. The accident unfortunately ended the lives of
the three other people in the taxi, including the driver, as I was the single
individual who left the scene of the accident alive. The semi-truck driver was
eventually sentenced to seven years in prison.
So, the positive
(which I recognize that it is nearly impossible to find a single positive thing
out of this catastrophic car accident) result of this life ending collision is
that I was basically flown out of Kazakhstan and fundamentally out of the Peace
Corps because even though I had been the sole survivor of the car accident, it
had resulted in me being left brain-injured. The Peace Corps contacted my
family and then ambulanced me to the next country the Kyrgyz Republic where the
United States had a transit center with U.S. Air Force doctors on staff for the
war in Afghanistan. The Peace Corps asked if the Air Force would help a Peace
Corps volunteer. They replied, “Yes, she’s one of our own.” They proceeded to
save my life. I was then flown to Afghanistan to pick up wounded soldiers. My
family flew to Germany to meet with me, even though I was in a coma. We were
then all flown to the largest US military hospital in Europe, which is
Landstuhl Hospital outside of Frankfurt, Germany.
Ultimately the
United States Air Force flew my family and I back to the United States. We were
flying on an airplane designated for injured soldiers. I was still in my coma
and there were four doctors surrounding me to ensure that I was stable during
the flight.
Once we had flown
back to the United States, I was stationed at the George Washington University
hospital in Washington DC. The nurses and my best friend Sarah had cut off my
all of my long hair because of all of the glass embedded in it. I also had a
tracheostomy as I could not breathe on my own. After three to four weeks in ICU
I began to come out of my coma. I was airvaced across the United States. We
were able to finally return to my home in California. Once I was situated in
California again I began a slew of therapies associated with brain injury. My
parents mentioned the fact that as a result of the brain injury I was no longer
certain of which language I should be speaking in. I had been speaking Russian
in the Peace Corps and when I studied abroad I became proficient in French. As
a result of the brain injury I wasn’t finding myself defaulting to English.
There was one nurse who was working with me and she actually knew Russian, so
when I was blabbing in my incoherent language she would
thankfully inform
my family if she recognized any Russian.
“How are you
feeling today sweetie?” my mother questioned.
“Hello! Je suis
fatigué,” I began to reply, “Comment allez vous? Zdrastvootsyeh!” stringing
together English, French and Russian at once.
So, as a result of
the brain injury, I found that it was the equivalent to being placed back in
preschool again. I no longer knew how to complete basic human function. I could
no longer walk or eat and my speech was difficult to comprehend for those
around me. Since the brain injury in 2010 I had to work extra hard to simply
complete normal tasks. I’ve learned that although I may be well educated and
fairly intelligent, it takes me twice as long to accomplish simple tasks
because I’m actually being forced to work twice as hard.
The therapies
became an unfortunate semi-regular occurrence in my new life. These included
speech therapy, physical therapy and occupational therapy and there were fifty
professionals working with me daily. These therapies threw me for a loop
because I was having to learn how to accomplish simple tasks like brushing my
hair and teeth, how to shower, read and write, and math.
Sometimes I would
even become angry because everyone was treating me as though I had never been
exposed to any of these instructions during my lifetime. For example, it was
very annoying to have my own mother ask me to look both ways while crossing the
street, like I was a kid again.
When I arrived in
California, I was placed at the Santa Clara Valley Medical Center for four
months and then from there I was sent to live (temporarily) in Southern
California in a city called Bakersfield. I was living in Bakersfield attending the
Centre for Neuro Skills (CNS). I lived in Bakersfield for 9 months. This
location ended up being nice for me because for a short period of time, before
I became completely comfortable walking on my own two legs, I had been riding
around in a wheelchair. CNS definitely tested me in multiple ways making me
feel entirely comfortable and confident living my new life. I grew to truly
enjoy the other patients in Bakersfield because in that situation I didn’t need
to feel self-conscious because everyone living there had also experienced a
life altering situation resulting in requiring neurological help. Fortunately,
during these nine months my mother and I realized how fortunate I had been in
my recovery. Many of the other patients in Bakersfield had been physically or
mentally altered. Some may consider my brain injury a mentally altering
situation, but I’m a fighter and I haven’t let this situation overcome me. After
all, I have always faced certain challenges and I’ve fought hard to overcome
them. I am learning that I’m stronger than I thought I was and even though
there are many challenges that I continue to face, I will not give up.
