OK I am lousy at this. Here is the first day of our journey written from the distant future. I will write about the treatment…soon.
We arrived and everything has gone smoothly so far, with only a few minor glitches. An easy trip to the airport, a breeze to get through customs with special service. Everyone should have a chance at this VIP experience some time. Just hop into a wheelchair and be prepared to be treated as a king! You get to skip through all lines, you don’t have to take off your shoes, and for a passport I just showed them my handicapped parking sticker (ok, I had to show my passport).
Glitch #1. We were in great spirits until we decided to eat something before the trip. We decided on a salad and for some reason I chose a raspberry smoothie. We got back to the table and as Annica loaded the tray onto the table the smoothie jumped off the far side of the table, but luckily it landed upright and had a lid on it. I started to eat, thankful that my smoothie was intact. When I looked down I noticed some red dots on my white shirt. On closer inspection, the smoothie had showered me from underneath the table, covering my beige pants and white shirt with red dots. I didn’t handle it well and ruined the positive vibes.
First of all I learned that people with MS should not be allowed to wear white, especially if your last name is Carter. Secondly I learned that I can be a real SOB over unimportant things, especially when I am about to receive a life changing treatment! Sorry Annica.
As we moved onto the plane we waited to be last and just to be safe I put
on a protective mask so that I would not contract any germs. Thankfully one of my students did her final project with a terrifying biology theme where she presented articles of diseases that can be contracted during air travel - Dengue, Zita – a host of lovely diseases, which quite frankly makes you never want to set foot on an airplane again. Thank you Michaela. But I was prepared and I put on my hybrid Darth Vader-Stormtrooper mask and tried to make my children proud! My son’s reaction? “Papa. Thank God I was not on the plane with you!” And he likes Star Wars.
On arrival, we got special service and breezed through customs. Moscow’s airport was phenomenal. The Taxi was waiting for us and we immediately started the hour long journey to the hospital. The driver used a Google translating app on his iPhone to ask us questions and was super friendly.
The sprawling city with a mix of old communist style apartment blocks, modern condos and stores that you would recognize in any thriving economy – IKEA, McDonalds, Pizza Hut, Media Mart, Ford, etc, etc, reminds you of just how the modern world is so similar no matter where you go. As we looked up at some of the more rundown apartment blocks we started to think about all the people with different diseases that would not have the opportunity to get the treatment that I will get in their country and we felt so fortunate.
The hospital was located in a gated area and it was surrounded by green and lush wooded parks, colorful flowers and beautiful 19th century buildings. Oh and the gates were guarded by intimidating expressionless Russian soldiers - (presumably there to protect those who walk a little less skillfully). We were shown to my room which was incredibly nice and felt like an apartment, with fridge, microwave and teakettle. Home until isolation.
After an hour of settling in we got to meet the legendary Dr. Fedorenko. He arrived with a big smile and had stayed late (after 7:30 PM) just to welcome us. He gave us both hugs. Yes hugs, which is incredible considering that the last time I met my neurologist in Sweden I didn’t even get a handshake – just an ice-cold shoulder.
Dr. Fedorenko explained that the first 2 days would be all testing to determine whether I would be a candidate for transplantation. So now it starts!
Oh, then there was glitch #2. Trying to get a cab back to the hotel for Annica proved to be difficult. The language barrier was immense not to mention the cultural differences. By the time we had called 3 English speaking cabs at 3 dollars a minute on our iPhones we had already surpassed the price of the taxi ride and still had no taxi. In the end we called the hotel for help. When Annica finally overcome the language barrier and got a hold of an English speaking receptionist, Annica asked the receptionist to help us with ordering a taxi. It was time to face down the cultural barriers.
Dialogue:
Annica: “We are having trouble ordering a taxi could you send one to the university hospital?”
Receptionist: “I will check with the manager.”
Annica: “Can’t you just order me a taxi to the address?”
Receptionist: “I will check with the manager. Please hold.”
3 minute wait for manager with soothing music - at the price of one taxi ride.
The manager agrees to order a taxi and offers to call us back to let us know when the taxi will arrive. No call comes and yes we make yet another call to the receptionist who must redirect us to the manager to find out whether a taxi was ordered. We get a transfer to the manager with 3 minute wait (with soothing music) – at the price of one taxi. She eventually gets to the hotel and pays for the taxi – at the price of one taxi. How many taxis is that anyway?
Some times its just easier and cheaper with public transport.