Preach on, sister (and brother)

“We can do no great things. Only small things with great love.” -Mother Teresa

“Be the change you wish to see in the world.” -Mahatma Gandhi

Save the Date

Okay, the truth of the matter is, when it comes to fundraising, I’m crap and everyone knows it. It makes me terribly uncomfortable. Even when I try to ask, I’m falling all over myself trying not to sound like I’m asking, which, as my dear friend Sue has advised me, means I’m crap. Thus far, despite my meager effots, five people I adore have made extraordinarily generous donations that are beyond what I could have hoped for and more than I deserve. They have inspired me to get serious, and broaden the reach, in the hopes of receiving some small contributions from a larger number of people. So…

On January 14th, I’ll be hosting a fundraiser at Passage to India in Lawrenceville, NJ. It’s our favorite casual Indian restaurant, and we thought it might be a fun way to involve friends and family where you’ll get something in return. So, here’s the deal. Knowing that there are football playoffs late that afternoon and evening, we’re planning a lunchtime buffet shindig — arrive between 12 and 1pm, and for a donation of $30 or more per person, you’ll enjoy steamy naan and savoury dal, the company of family and friends, and you’ll be helping to defray the cost of my service in India. Cool? If you think you can join us, please reply here or send me an eMail, so I can work on the head count for the restaurant and include you in the official eVite next week. Hope you can make it. There’s a rumor that JennyB is preparing a spangled performance…

Ouch.

This morning was my first of several pre-trip travel clinic appointments and I’m a bit grumpy. Dishearteningly uninformed staff, painful shots, and an even more painful bill. Eek.

The doc came in insisting that I didn’t need any of the immunizations that I had requested, and instead needed (a really expensive and somewhat risky) one that wasn’t on my list. I balked, repeating that what I read on the CDC site — which went against her recos. She countered, repeating her initial assertions. Finally, I asked her to print out the info, which I then used to point out her error. Her response? “Oh. Then there’s nothing you need, since you are up-to-date on your Hep A & Hep B shots.” “What about typhoid? Japanese encephalitis?” I asked. “No, you don’t need those. Well, wait. No. Maybe. Maybe those.” Oh, God.

After some more back and forth, I finally got what I came for: the recommended typhoid vaccine, the first of three JE shots, and a prescription for anti-malaria treatment. Can’t believe that even after asking the right questions, I still almost received a yellow fever vaccine I didn’t need, and none of the ones I did. Yuck. Lessons of the day: 1) Do the research, and say what you know. 2) Ow. Flu shot has nothing on these babies. 3) This stuff is a fortune: $170/per shot and not covered by insurance. Worth it, of course — but a nasty reminder of what it would be like to pay for healthcare out-of-pocket every day. Healthcare reform, please, new Congress.

Who doesn’t love a sleeping bulldog?

Haven’t had a chance to post this week — getting over a nasty cold, which always seems to be the free-gift-with-purchase that comes along with volunteering in nursing homes this time of year. (Check out the Wrapping Presence link in the Blogroll at right for a view in on that fun & chaos.) That and racing to catch up with the Christmas rush has me away from the keys. Trying to make some gifts this year, with an eye on thrift as India approaches, and squeeze in visits with people I’ve been so anxious to see, but have been too contagious to risk it. (Ew.) Still, I’m sure I’ll end up in the shops with everyone else this weekend. So, in the absence of any particular news of note about my upcoming trip, here’s a picture of Riley Jane because, hey. Why not?

Why now?

So, I lure Damon out east and then decide to just take off the minute he’s settled in? That’s not exactly what happened, but as it has been jokingly suggested by more than one bystander, I thought the “Why now?” might be worth sharing. I had hoped to take this trip last spring, but un-fun life events intervened, and I became convinced I might never get back on this particular horse. To call that realization ‘discouraging’ would be an understatement — I hated what it said about me and my future, in the big-picture sense. So back in October, I thought I’d start tip-toeing back in this direction and re-initiated CCS conversations with early 2008 in mind. I was certain it would take me that long to know if I was still up for it, to do the proper planning, to save enough money to cover the bills while I was gone and to regain the lost confidence and independence to undertake this sort of solo travel to an unfamiliar place.

And then CCS offered a way-too-soon start-date of February 2007. February 11th, in point of fact. Turns out that’s one year to the day I was assaulted by the intruder that broke into my home while I slept. The day that asshole changed everything about how I see the world and myself in it. I couldn’t believe the timing: the coincidence seemed almost too perfect — cliched, even. But, funny thing, coincidences. Often times they’re not. So, the hell with planning, and organizing, and a gentle, tentative easing back into something resembling normal for me. Here’s what I think about lost confidence and M.I.A. independence: screw the baby steps. I’m going to India and I’m going in seven weeks. Whoa.

Why there?

It’s hard not to be interested in and inspired by Indian culture. The rich history, the extraordinary architecture, the healing arts, the (somewhat) peaceful coexistance of so many of the world’s religions, the varied mythical landscapes, the exotic wildlife, the gorgeous craftsmanship of traditional silverwork and sari fabrics, and of course, the food. Good Lord, the food. These things were the gravy, though — the free gift with purchase — when I made the decision to travel to India. Of the ten countries where CCS supports volunteers, it turned out that my interests and skills seemed rather suited to the type of work that might need doing in and around Delhi. Plus, after working with Missionaries of Charity in Kingston, Jamaica, I’ll confess to something of a ten-year yearning to follow the trail back to the source. Back to the beginning to have a look at Mother Teresa’s home field. Dig.

Hope

“Unlike beauty, hope is not found in things. Unlike faith, hope does not reside in the individual. As it turns out, hope is found only in other people. If it cannot be found there, it cannot be found. When hope is lost, we are all implicated.”

-Michael Antrobus

To Do List

Task #1: Schedule early January doc appointment to get immunizations and anti-malaria Rx. Though this local doc’s tiny Lville office probably stocks hepatitis-a, hepatitis-b, measles and tetnus boosters, I’m guessing she’s plum out of japanese encephalitis & typhoid immunizations. (There’s always a run on them for the holidays, what with all those hard-to-please relatives to shop for.)

Task #2: (And way scarier than all those shots) Get serious about fundraising. What’s worse than asking family and friends for a contribution? Trying to do so around the holidays. Eek. Finally accepted that fundraising is a necessary and legitimate part of this journey and trying to think of creative ways to tackle it that won’t be quite so uncomfortable for me. Buffet dinner at an Indian restaurant with a donation for entry, slightly higher than the restaurant’s charge? Raffle of some sort? Nervously getting to work on those. Crazy that the most intimidating part of heading off to India on my own for this sort of work is not the thing itself, but rather the simple act of asking for something, anything, from anyone. From the comforts of my home, even. Huh. And the learning begins…

Why in the world?

Waiting so long to post a second time certainly isn’t the best way to get a little blog up and running, but like everyone in December, I’ve been in the proverbial weeds. Back now, and happy to say that the response from family and friends about my plans has made me even more excited to take this journey. So many people seem as enthusiastic about it as I am and that is beyond cool. Everyone wants to know everything, and it seems the same questions come up in every conversation: where I’ll be, what the work will be like, what my living conditions will be, why does it cost me money to volunteer, will I get to sight-see or travel, what if I get sick, etc. My answers to these questions are evolving in real-time, as my pre-trip orientation gets underway, and I’m taken in to the CCS fold. I hope to answer each of them more fully in this space, over time. Today, though, I was thinking about one question that took me a bit off-guard. An acquaintance looked at me quizzically and asked “Why in the world would you want to do something like that?

Huh. It wasn’t that I was stumped for an answer — it was the question itself that threw me. Whaddya mean, “Why?” It seemed confrontational. Rhetorical. Like looking at your girlfriend and saying “So, you’re wearing that to the party?” I started to respond, but stumbled in my defensiveness and ended up walking away frustrated and confused. I know why I’m going, but why do I have to explain myself to him?