Health Scare: Update

First I want to thank you all for the kind words, emails, calls, messages and prayers, it meant more than you know.  Now for the wonderful news.  I am cancer free!  The results showed no malignancy. The two tumor/lesions were removed completely with clear margins, although these "lumps" were benign they were very suspicious and are sometimes considered precancerous.  It's great to have them out of my body.  I am so happy to have such wonderful news and such wonderful support from my friends and family.  Thank you again!

Health Scare

The day started as many do.  Coffee, emails and a quick shower.  Getting dressed, I see my reflection.  Something is off.  I press my fingers against my skin.  There, hard like a lemon seed, a strange ridge.  A lump.  I call my husband into the room for confirmation.  I’m not imagining it.  Later in the day I find myself in a waiting room full of people at the local clinic.  Waves of anxiety come over me as the thought of having to take my shirt off in front of a stranger continues to pop into my head.  It’s probably nothing, this is silly.  I should just head home.  I watch the clock.  Time slows.  The nurse signals me to follow her.  A deep breath.  A quick summary of my morning and basic medical history.  Okay here we go.  Cold hands.  In my own way of lightning the mood I joke about wishing I would have used more deodorant.  My humor wasn’t caught and I was reassured that doctors don’t mind these things and not to worry myself.  I try to read her face.  A focused glare as she scribbles something onto a clipboard.  Referral for a ultrasound.  $20.00 FJ for the visit.  A white paper under my windshield wiper flutters in the wind.  You’ve got to be kidding me.  Downtown I find the recommended clinic.  Park.  Open the ashtray for coins.  The meter now with 1:40 minutes to kill.  The woman at the front desk directs me to the ultrasound area.  No waiting.  The lobby filled with coughing, sleepless faces.  I follow someone to the radiology area.  Another wave of anxiety washes over me.  I can do this.  The man next to me, arm in a sling and heavily bandaged asked “Are you sick?”  “I guess we’ll see.” I reply.  We chat, work accident, bone went right through the skin.  My turn.  A squish of gel.  The ultrasound screen the only light in the room.  They turn the screen towards me.  “You see, this looks irregular.”  “I guess it’s a good thing I came in.”  I say half joking.  “Yes, it’s a really good thing.”  All humor gone.  This was starting to feel real.  I collect my report and walk out to the car.  I call my husband.  I pull away from the curb.  There in the window, a familiar white paper smacking against the hood.  Not again.  I even had time left on the meter.  It almost seemed funny.  Back to the original doctor.  Waiting.  She looks at the report.  Silence.  I was starting to feel a little uneasy.  Say something.  “They said it’s irregular, do you think it might be, cancer?” I blurted out.  Her face snaps towards me.  “Don’t say such things, you must not put these things into your head.  Right now you need to be strong!”  As the last word was spoken, the opposite seemed to happen as all my strength was suddenly gone.  Be strong, for what I wonder?  My eyes start to well up.  I quickly control my emotions.  What next?  She recommends a biopsy with a surgeon in Suva, a four hour drive from here.  I take everything in, then return home.  Numb.  I recount the days events.  Then lay on the bed, open my computer.  Google search: Breast Cancer.  My husband on the phone in the other room.  He wants to drive tonight, he made an appointment for the following morning.  Emotionally exhausted I protest at first, then give in.  Pack the car, load the kids.  Road trip.  The hours passed quickly as we discussed “what if” scenarios.  It’s probably nothing this is silly.  This sure is a beautiful country.  Those lush mountains, the road follows the Coral Coast. Even a sunset.  We check in to the hotel.  Great food after a long day.  9:00 a.m. the doctor will see you.  Another exam.  Now off for a mammogram and then a biopsy.  I hand the referral to the front desk.  “What day would you like to schedule this for ma’am?”  Right now. “You can’t do this the same day, I’m so sorry.”  I plead and explain our long drive.  “My husband took time off work, please.”  Progress, I get a shot at convincing the head radiologist.  He agrees to do another ultrasound and if he feels it warrants a mammogram then I will receive one.  A squish of gel, déjà vu.  He mumbles a few things to be noted, I missed it.  He says a few reassuring words then says a few confusing and equally troubling things and then recommends a ultrasound guided biopsy.  More waiting.  Balance paid.  The fleeting pain of the needle to numb me and then the biopsy.  Again the screen turned towards me.  I watch as he thrusts the needle again and again into the dark mass on the screen, on me.  Now I wait.  I decide to keep this to myself.  Ten to fourteen days.  I call my parents.  Everyday, the same, but different.  My life on hold, waiting for a call.  The results.  No malignant cells that they can see in the sample, but there is something that is still suspicious and the pathologist recommends a more extensive biopsy.  Another trip to Suva, I fly alone.  A quick consult.  Off to the operating room.  I change into my gown.  Is this real?  I felt the need to psych myself up.  I can do this.  I had a baby in India, okay this is nothing. I can do this.  I lay down on the table.  Arm out perpendicular, strapped down.  I’m awake.  “Okay you are going to feel a few pricks.”  Needle after needle of local anesthesia.  Then a cut, the smoke from my fresh being cauterized.  That smell. “I can feel that!”  “Pain or pressure?”  “Pain!”  “More local, more local.” Another needle.  My adrenalin pumping.  I felt it nearly impossible to relax.  The constant thought of that pain replaying in my mind.  A deep breath.  Another deep breath.  Almost an hour and the surgery in complete.  Stitches.  Pressure and a tug, pressure and a tug.  Then the piercing pain of the needle and the stitching dragging through my flesh, again, again.  Wincing. One section about the size of a quarter still wasn’t numb.  I stay quiet.  It’s over.  A deep breath.  Final bandages.  I ask to see it.  I touch the lump of flesh.  I change in the bathroom.  A long stare at my new reflection.  The recovery room.  Waiting for paperwork and pills.  After I am released I walk the unfamiliar streets in a haze.  I call my husband.  Stomach rumbling, I find food.  A few hours had passed and the pain was surfacing.  I take the antibiotic and pain medication I was given earlier.  I start to relax.  I walk the shops to pass time.  “Ma’am are you okay?”  Not may I help you.  “I’m fine thank you.”  A realization, am I acting strangely?  Maybe I should have had more food before taking these pills.  I decided to find a place I could just sit down for a while.  The only place was a nail salon.  I sit down.  Suddenly, a felt very strange, my relaxation had taken a turn for the worst.  “Where’s your bathroom?”  I rush off.  Door locked.  Pale and sweating.  Dizzy.  I lean over the toilet.  Nothing.  I lay on the cold tiles.  I can’t stand.  Thoughts of getting on an airplane in the next few hours seemed impossible.  Getting off the floor seemed impossible.  Time passes.  I reemerge to strange looks and impatient glares.  “I’m so sorry, I was at the hospital and this medicine has made me quite ill.”  “You have diarrhea?”  She says with panic.  “No, no, I just feel nauseated, it’s from the medicine.”  English wasn’t her first language.  “I get you Chinese tea.”  I agree.  They let me sit long after I am finished.  I am feeling well enough.  I need fresh air.  As time passed I continued to improve and before I knew it I was boarding the plane and heading home.  Puffy clouds, and bright sunshine.  Fiji is even more breathtaking by air.  Pure wonder.  It’s been about a week since my surgery.  The mass was sent to Australia for pathology review.  Each day, I try to distract myself.  I’ve already called the hospital twice.  So now I wait.  What a whirlwind it’s been.  Today I peeled back the bandage.  A bright pink line, about two inches.  Not too bad.  This may be the end of this story or just the beginning.  Please keep me in your thoughts and I will keep you all posted. 

Life in Fiji

As promised in my last post here is the report in my husband's own words of his experiences thus far in Fiji.

The People:

Fiji has a unique mix of culture, comprised mainly of Fiji Nationals, Indians, Chinese, Koreans, Australians and Kiwis.  Everyone seems to be very relaxed and friendly, almost to a fault.  They have adopted a philosophy here known as “Fiji time”, which is another way of saying lousy service.  It’s a little irritating at times, especially when you have kids, but I’m getting used to it.  For the most part though, people here seem to be reasonably competent, easy to deal with and have a sense of humor, which is refreshing.

I do have to say that the heavy Indian influence has robbed this place of some of its charm.  The first night we got here was a few days before Diwali, so we had fireworks and music going all hours of the night.  Which of course continued for about a month.  Also, most of the local shop owners are Indian, so the general look and feel of the common shops are similar to those found in India.  That is, they have adopted the marketing strategy of paying no heed to the general appearance of the shop and instead lure in customers by blasting obnoxious music and having their family members loiter out front.  However, there are plenty of “proper” stores that help to keep things in balance.  One more thing about the people here that I feel is worth mentioning.  This is the most un-consumer oriented culture that I have ever observed.  I’ll leave it at that.  

The Town:

We live in Nadi (pronounced Nandi), which is on the west coast of the island, home of the international airport and the main launch point for tourists.  There are tons of resorts nearby that have no problem with people like us showing up and using their beaches, swimming pools and restaurants.  In fact, “locals” often get discounts.  It’s like being on vacation here all the time.  Craig (for those who know him) has his boat docked right in front of one of the neatest resorts I’ve ever been to and they aren’t even charging him!  They just like having us around.   Kira and Doug are always well received by the wait staff; in fact, the band dedicated a song to Kira the other night.  She’s known for her exceptional ability to catch frogs and talk really loud.

I would describe the general feel of this place to be somewhere between Goa and Phuket.  The roads are bad in some areas and quite good in others (like the highways).  Some of the local beaches are a bit polluted and unappealing but the ones found at the resorts and nearby islands are tropical paradises.  The shops lining the roads have that slummy look you see in places like PNG and India, but once you go inside you are often pleasantly surprised.  In contrast, there are parts of town that are very upscale and geared specifically for tourism with golf courses, resorts, high-end retail and restaurants.  The main road through town is crowded but people are not blaring on their horns and they will stop to let you cross with a polite wave.  It’s weird.

Cost of Living:

Cost of living is low.  Nadi is the most expensive place on the main island and you can still get a great apartment for a good price.  There is a huge variation in the quality of housing so it does take a while to find a good place.  We found an awesome two bedroom flat that is over looking a marina, has a pool, nice kitchen, two bathrooms with a tub, washer and dryer, is in a good part of town and has cable and maid service included in the price for 1500 FJD per month.  It’s also two minutes from the airport and walking distance to Kira’s school.  We plan to move once a unit comes available.  Our current apartment is substantially less desirable and the price is the same.

Food is cheap if you eat the local fruits, vegetables and meat.  Which is the way to go.  It’s funny; you can go to the local market and get super fresh locally grown produce for next to nothing, or you can buy wilted old vegetables imported from New Zealand for twenty times the price (no joke).  A lot of the imported food is cheap and I have not been able to figure out why.  We just bought a huge bag of Kirkland Signature tortilla chips that were not smashed and still fresh for the same price as they are back home.  Also, imported wine is not taxed here.  So wine is cheaper here than anywhere I’ve ever been.  That being said, some things are incredibly expensive like asparagus, broccoli, imported cereal, coffee and so on.  All in all, I would say that our grocery bill is about the same as what we had back in the States.

Cars are expensive.  We just bought a 2004 Nissan Cube with 125,000K for 17,000 FJD, and that was a good deal.  A brand new entry level Toyota Hilux is 90,000 FJD.  On the bright side, resale is very strong and cars tend to hold their value.  Taxis are very cheap, reliable and they use the meter every time, but in my opinion a car is an absolute must.  There is just too much to see and do around here.  It was explained to me by some locals that a boat is also a must, and I’m starting to agree.  Fiji exists offshore.

The Job:

Flying here is fun.  It’s technical because of the non-radar, bizarre approaches, ETOPS and so on, but you also get to do some sporty landings into short strips and fun visual approaches through mountain valleys.  It’s a lot like flying in PNG but with better ATC communications, I like it.  Plus the first officers are pretty experienced and have good stick and rudder skills having come off of the twin otter.  The weather isn’t that great because of the thunderstorms and heavy rain but I’m told that will clear up in a few months.

The training was thorough.  After about a month of various ground schools and SIM, captains require 30 hours of line training.  It is a bit excessive, but the training is valuable because the flights we do are a bit unusual.  For example, I just operated an ETOPS flight to Funafuti atoll (which is just a strip of sand in the middle of the Pacific), the ceiling was low (not in the forecast, of course) and we had to do a go-around because of a dog on the runway.  Usually this would not be worth mentioning but we were well beyond our PNR and there is no destination alternate for Funafuti, just “island hold” reserves.  It’s a weird feeling knowing that you have no option but to land at an airport that is proving to be troublesome.  I was grateful for the training because I knew this type of thing was to be expected and how to handle it.  It seems that all of the airports around here have similar esoteric qualities that the training focuses on.  Plus, we don’t use CFP’s so it is up to the crews to do all of the flight planning, including the calculation of ETP’s and PNR’s.  So, I guess they want to make sure you have it dialed in before they set you free.

It’s hard to say what the future holds because everything here is in a state of flux right now.  The company is changing its name, getting new 72-600’s, changing its whole SOP and training department, new pay (pilots should be getting a pretty good raise), new routes and even a new paint job.  So, we’ll see what remains when the dust settles.

The best part about this gig is the schedule.  I’m home all the time!  This is the only airline I know of that provides this good of a quality of life.   My schedule right now has me flying about three days a week.  When I do work, the duty day is typically pleasurable and short.  Hopefully the changes coming down the pipeline don’t screw it all up.

The Job

My husband plans to write a detailed report after he finishes training for those interested in relocating to Fiji for work, but in the meantime here is a little about the job that bought our family here.  October 28^th was the day we arrived and also his first day at work.  He went to the office almost everyday the first week, usually only for a few hours at a time.  Paper work, license conversion exams, a company issued medical, setting up company accounts, and getting to know the office staff.  Our arrival wasn’t without a few surprises.  First, he was presented a different contract.   He rejected it and they quickly honored the original terms and conditions, nevertheless it was a bit unnerving.  His intended SIM partner, also a new hire, ended up quitting the first week after being offered a more desirable contract in her home country at the last minute.  Leaving drama at the main office, along with my husband partner less for simulator. This issue was resolved and on November 3^rd he traveled to Auckland, New Zealand for SIM for five days then returned to Fiji.  After his return, the training continued for an additional two weeks of ground school during which aircraft systems, emergency procedures and crew resource management training takes place.  The CRM instructor was flown in from Australia and the class was well organized. The emergency procedures for a water landing even included mock drills at the local pool.  Ground school took place Monday through Friday 9:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m. give or take an hour.  The company does provide a taxi for pick-up and drop-off each day.  The schedule changes daily.  If you need complete control over your time you may find the first few weeks to be challenging.  You can anticipate waking up, getting ready then the phone will ring.  You don’t need to come in after all.  Ten minutes later, after changing back into causal clothes, you receive a call letting you know a taxi will be outside in twenty minutes ready to escort you to the airport.  On the flip side, the guys that are flying the line seem to have pretty consistent schedules.  Ground school is followed by a minimum of 30 hours of line training. Where you are observed and evaluated each day while flying the scheduled passenger flights.  This part of training is quite stressful because you are constantly being scrutinized and critiqued during a time when you are still very new and learning the environment, equipment, and the companies standard operating procedures.  His training will be concluded after a final check-ride thereafter he will begin flying a regular schedule as a captain.  His training should be complete tomorrow, which also corresponds with us being in country around seven weeks.  Dry details aside, he enjoys the flying and his coworkers.  He is home nearly every night and also receives two hard days off each week on top of this.   After tomorrow we will truly start to settle in and see what this place continues to offer. 

A Day At Sea

The winds seemed to be picking up on our way to the marina.  A worried look on my husband’s face.  Choppy waters would spoil our plans.  Fortunately, with no substantial white caps in sight we loaded the boat and headed out.  As we pulled away from the main island, over a dozen smaller islands occupied the view.  Our destination straight-ahead; depending on the waters we should arrive in about forty minutes.  Each group of islands passed was replaced with endless others.  Varying sizes, some grouped, some standing alone in the beautifully pristine waters.  Sun blazing and a steady cool breeze.  I leaned back; I closed my eyes, my son’s head on my chest.  A cold mist of salty overspray every now and then kept me awake, despite the sun’s relaxing warmth.  We slowed to a stop near a small sandbar.  Without hesitation my husband leapt off the boat.  Splash!  “Grab my snorkel.”   Next in the water, my daughter.  Excitement was overcoming me.  Genuine excitement that kind that doesn’t come along as often as it used to.  I couldn’t get my mask on fast enough.  I put my face under the water.  Silence.  The world I was in seconds ago vanished and was replaced by another.  Hundreds of fish.  So close I was sure I could catch one with my hands.  I dove a little deeper, the ocean filling my snorkel.  I shot up, coughing at the surface.  I hurried back.  Neon blues, yellows and purples dart around me.  Pure exhilaration.  I try to calm my breathing.  A section of the reef breaks out from under me. Hanging over a small crevasse, a strange sensation came over me.  I almost felt a little scared looking into the depths below.  Adrenaline maybe.  Fantastically striped fish, florescent colors, sea anemone, starfish; there was an entire world before me.  A life-sized salt-water aquarium.  I popped up to check on the kids.  I tried to convince my daughter to try the mask.  Desperately wanting to share that moment with her.  She refused and proceeded to enthusiastically explain that she could now swim, unaware of the help from her life-jacket.  I escaped back into the realm below.  I didn’t want it to end.  So many things I thought I would never see were right before my eyes.  I bobbed at the surface.  “What do you think?”  My husband says with a smile on his face.  My words didn’t seem adequate.  Everyone returned to the boat.  As we pressed on I looked out at the water feeling almost drugged.  That was terrific.  Shallow waters as we approached the island, the boat slowed.  We were unsure we would make it through.  Finally docked the view is gorgeous.  The nearby waters littered with boats.  Our trip was short; the island was closed to the public due to renovations.  Fuel tanks full, we head out again.  Our next stop isn’t far.  Our friends point out the island where the movie Castaway was filmed.  Skin raging red, clearly not enough sunscreen.  Hungry and exhausted from the sun we tie off the boat and hitch a ride in from one owned by the island resort.  White beaches, blues waters, palm trees.  Wooden stairs lead us to the restaurant.  We enjoyed a meal and some laughter and decided to head back before sunset.  I watch the sky as we make our way back to the main island.  Jets coming in for a landing at the airport.  A bright full moon hung above us.  Unfamiliar cloud formations seemed to hang just above the water and erupt into the sky.  Oranges, pinks and yellows took over right before dark.  We docked after seven hours at sea and our amazing day filled with color and experiences finally came to an end.

A Positive Change

Sometimes it is the simplest things in life that we enjoy that are also the things we so easily take for granted.  Many of you that are reading this have shared some of the adventures we had in India.  People have been asking, how is Fiji similar or dissimilar to your time spent in India and the USA? Do you miss anything?  Which place do you enjoy most?  There are many things I have missed about all the places I have lived, but few of them truly amounted to much importance.  I am realizing that now.  During my time in India there were things I missed.  Hot water from the tap and the ability to communicate without frequent misunderstandings.  Driving, and the independence that it provides. Juicy cheeseburgers.  On demand drinking water.  Pulling hot laundry from a dryer.  Sharing a sense of humor and a set of values with those around me.  I missed the freedom to wear certain clothes without judgment.  Autumn leaves and summer barbeques with friends.  My mom’s fresh baked bread.  Late walks through decorated neighborhoods at Christmas.  Common conveniences, fresh air.  Sunsets on the lake.  Mountains.  Freeways.  American style customer service.  Quality art supplies.  Going for a walk.  Regular phone calls from friends.  Running in a field with my children.  Mind-blowing variety and selection.  Most of all I missed my family back home.

When I came back to America at first I couldn’t believe how much everyone had changed.  My friends seemed different, everyone did.  I felt out of place in a familiar environment.  Then as time passed, I realized I had changed.  I wasn’t the same person anymore.  I had daydreamed about returning to the United States too many times to count and I think I formed an unrealistic image of what my homecoming would be.  Once we returned I started reminiscing about our time abroad, how easily we sometimes forget hard times and recall only the good.  I missed simplicity, my neighbors at Aparna Towers, my daughter’s best friend who came to play each morning.  I missed plane rides, and passport stamps.  Sharing profound experiences and making lifelong friends.  The adventure.  The excitement.  Being on vacation in the United States.  The value of a dollar. Seeing poverty everyday that reminded me to be more grateful.  Seeing the world.  I missed our family being together, I missed my husband and sharing experiences with him that brought us closer with each passing day.  I also realized out all the things that I thought I missed in India only about two of them truly mattered, real friends and family.

Coming to Fiji was a tough decision.  When we told people we were leaving some of the first questions were: Have you been there?  Where will you live?  Do they speak English?  What are you going to do with your house?  The only real question of importance to me was could I handle the reality of being separated from those I love again?  Family is very important to me and my parents have built a beautiful relationship with my children since we returned.  Guilty feeling overwhelm me at times.  I know they support our decisions despite their own heartbreak.  Thank you.  This move is allowing our family to be together.  It is allowing us to slow down and bring priority back to the things that really matter to us.  We didn’t come here for the beaches or the beautiful waters.  We didn’t come here for the money or career advancement.  We came here to be a family and to raise our children and to let them see a different view of the world.  To let them see their mother and father together in a successful marriage.  To sit down as a family for dinner.  I came here to wake up next to my husband in the morning and say goodnight to him before bed.  I came here to make a positive change in my life.  I appreciated different aspects of all the places I have lived but for now I think this is where our family needs to be.  I hope this new life is the positive change we hoped for.

Holiday At Home

After a forty-minute drive out of town, it happened; white sand beaches and crystal cerulean waters.  The color seemed almost unnatural, surreal even.  Only a few clouds in the sky and a generous amount of sun.   Sunscreen, sunglasses and water wings.  I could see my neighbor holding my daughter’s hand up ahead.  My son holding mine.  Following footprints on a white coral beach.  Beautifully decorated and exotic shells cluttered the shore.  Black and white striped fish shared the shallow waters as we made our way down the oceanfront.  Low winds, manageable waves and the water like a warm bath.  I catch up.  Smiles on the face of everyone I see.  We find a shallow spot, the kids laugh and search for treasures in the sand.  “This one looks like a K mom.”  She shouts while holding a broken piece of coral.  The hunt to spell our names.  Then a moment of calm, I stop and look out at the aqua blue before me.  I am here.  This place is real.  I live here.  A flash of images.  The buses unloading at the resort, navigating around scattered luggage, families posing for photos.  The bartender hard at work.  This is a place that many people may never see. Some of those that do are staying here at these resorts.  Room rates, tips, followed by a flight back from where they came.  I realized that moment.  This is a blessing.  It was one of those moments where you feel thankful.  We head back, more sunscreen and a fruit smoothie.  The bill.  “Which room are you staying?”  I felt like an imposter mixed in with all the vacationers.  Enjoying the same five-star hotel amenities, the same beautiful beach, the same gorgeous view for free.  “Not too bad.”  Our neighbor says, feet kicked up on a lounge chair.  A stop at one of the hotel pools and then a bite to eat.  Mahi-Mahi fish and chips, fire roasted pizza and lemon cheesecake.  Plates nearly licked clean.  Children covered in sauce, eyes drooping. The day wrapping up.  We reach the car; I look back, “Come on, Sweetie.”  My daughter running to catch up, hands full of freshly picked hibiscus flowers.