US Election Day in Japan 2008

People have been asking me what the climate has been for those of us not in the US. I know that this is one of the few moments of homesickness that I have felt. I wanted to be there in LA where I volunteered on the campaign to celebrate in my country. But it was nice here. I have made a clip to capture some of the feelings of what went on.

One small detail an addendum of sorts

Okay so I woke up early this morning and went down to the seawall. I was looking over the Pacific in my silent bliss and remembered that I kinda left out something. I mean about the surgery, well before the surgery. You know I was talking about the nurse and how nice and kind she was and how sweet and all and how she ushered me in so gently, well all that is true. I kind of left out how scared I really was. I don't know looking at the ocean all safe and sound it all came back to me. The translators had just left me with the NYU nurse. She walks me into the operating room. I didn't know you just like walked in and laid down on the operating table! Everyone had on masks and they looked like aliens. Saying things to me that I couldn't understand. They lifted this thing up that looked like a giant bubble wrapped heated blanket and the thought 'you will be technically dead and they will bring you back' just kinda floated past my mind. I tried to lie down but I couldn't, then the most embarrassing words started coming out of my mouth. "What if you relax my muscles so much and I am in such a deep sleep that I go on myself?"
"What?"
"umm"
"You have to go to the bathroom?"
"Can I?"
"Of Course"
Then I started thinking what if I set of some time clock of perfection and now I postponed something in my destiny, oh my maybe I should lay down. But the sweet nurse had me by my arms and was ushering me to the bathroom.

Okay carry on.

Day 4 of silence

Uhhhhhhhh. I don’t know what to say so I am just writing. My body is tired and I am whoozy but full of joy, full of bliss. Happy. Happy that my surgery went so well and I feel at home in a foreign place. Feel more welcomed here than I did in my cozy but somehow cold apartment in luscious Westwood, CA. Westwood is really Los Angeles but a city in itself. It was featured in the movie Crash where Jennifer Bullock’s character got mugged. UCLA is there, many students, a lot of wealth and suspicion. Accepted but more tolerated I think in Westwood. In Japan this is a lack of sophistication about bigotry that I love. There is honesty there. If they don’t like you they will stare spew words that you know are not kind. And if they love you and are curious to know more about you, you will know. In LA I felt safe enough but always aware, on edge not comfortable not me.

Emma, one of the “girl 2’s” in our show asked me why I acted like a baby one day. I remember in college, Mr. Z, I’ll call him, told me that I needed to grow up, stop acting so childish. In reclaiming a part of myself I lost listening to others definition of who I am, in finding my little girl again, I feel there is a wisdom in this behavior I celebrate the carefree, childlikeness of me and I believe it is the thing that keeps me young, will keep my youth and why my innocence is somehow still in tack. Mr. Z didn’t take it, though he tried. No one can really. But it happens everyday, innocence lost and the dying process quickens. I will leave this earth in my time.

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh. Well what else. I like silence. I don’t feel silence is silence. There is a lot of talking going on. I enjoy hearing other people talk. I can also tell that I make excuses for people and they make excuses for themselves. One on one people are somehow able to hear themselves in a one sided conversation. I notice they will say something, hear what they said and evaluate it for themselves. So interesting.

My mom called me this morning. It was 6:11. Me and 11- I like that number. 11. I went into the hospital 11.11 at 11am. I did something else that added up to 11 but I can’t remember it right now. But my mom called at 6:11, I wanted to yell in the phone but since I have sworn myself to silence I just pressed the answer button on my Japanese phone. My phone is white and I have two charms. The Japanese like to wear charms on their phones. It is a very big thing here. I have a heart and a head of corn. I don’t know that you say head of corn. Stalk of corn? It ain’t a corn kernel. Corn on the cob? I have a corn on the cob charm on my phone. Danielle is a mixed girl from Australia, she gave LaTeefah a watermelon charm and me a corn on the cob charm. She gave Emma a yellow pepper, and Beck something like a carrot, go figure.
Well anyway I answered my corn on the cob, heart charmed phone and said nothing. My mother quickly started in, “Mattilyn I know you can’t talk, I just want you to know I am thinking about you and I love you and I am praying for you, goodbye!” That was it and she hung up. I could tell she thinks I am suffering. I could feel her suffering though. I wish she knew that this silence is heaven for me. I love it actually. I must admit there are some times I feel the need to clarify or to ease a conversation, a point of view that seems so obvious to me but eludes those in the conversation. Inside I am yelling, “noooooo!!!!! Have you ever thought about it this way????” That is the only uncomfortable part about being silent.

It felt something like what I am now recalling that happened during surgery. I think they were trying to wake me up. But the breathing tube was still in. I was aware, I could hear them but I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breath. I was trying to tell them, “I can’t breath, I hear you but I can’t do what you are asking me to do, I can’t move!” the translators were not in the operating room, I could hear my heart rate raise a little on the monitor beside me. I want to say so badly “I can’t breathe! I can’t breathe!” They are patting me, oh yeah I hear English, the NYU nurse, she is yelling, “breath, breath, breath!” But there is something in the way, I can’t talk, I can’t swallow, I start to panic. All of a sudden I feel all these hands on me and they pull something out of my mouth from deep within me and my ass is awake now. “Breath!” And boy do I ever, “Good! Matto-san” she says and I slip away again. This also is a side of silence.

コエヲダスコトガデキナイ

KOE WO DASU KOTO GA DEKINAI

or I can't speak/talk

No fretting here I actually can speak but for the healing process of the chord I am advised not to speak for at least a week.  Then very little speaking the 2nd week then I should have the 25%  that I have lost in the past couple of months BACK!!!   

I must say even though the wing of the international hospital that I stayed in must have been the non-international side and built circa 1970 I felt very well cared for.  Like an honored guest.  I had one room-mate who was in for some sort of gum surgery and she stood at my bed and cheered me on as I went down to surgery.  My surgical nurse spoke perfect English and went to NYU and lived in NY for 7 years.  I remember her holding my hand and looking softly into my eyes as the general anesthesia began to take its affect.  I said, "I'm going" she said, "remember me"  such an odd thing to say but I do remember her and how kindly I was treated in a foreign land having surgery.  Without Jason, or my mom or my friends, my BBB family sent me text messages and Brian, Naoko and Ebony came to visit and I didn't feel alone.  

My room-mate kept giving me oranges and urged me to come to her side of the room.  Our room divided by a dingy pink partition.  She pulled it back and said, "dozo" which means something like, 'it's yours or be my guest or go ahead take it'  She pattered on in Japanese but i knew she was talking about the amazing view of Shinjiku outside our window.  I looked and oooed and ahhed but was more touched that she wanted me to feel at home.  She suspected from the translators that accompanied me and made clear all that was not, that I was alone and wanted to do all she could with her limited English to ease my comfort.  

I heard her cry out in between quiet snores during the two nights we shared a room.  Her surgery was scheduled for the day after mine and the day of my release from the Shinjiku International Medical Center.  In the morning when the translator came they told me she was amazed at my bravery and that she was terrified.  I wrote on my board, since I am no longer speaking for 1 week, "gambatte ne"  she beamed.  I think it means something like good luck, gods speed I really don't know but I know it means well and she got the meaning.  

My surgery went better than expected.  The polyp had shrunk a bit.  I told everyone this and they thought I was being silly.  So the 10-20 minute surgery ended up being 5.  There were absolutely no complications.  It took me a while to wake up though.  I believe that my sweet nurse was off helping another scared soul.  I was in the usual expected post surgery pain.  My upper lip was busted.  Not quite sure how that one happened, guess I will never know that one.  Jaw hurt from being pry ed open so far.  Throat was sore from the tubes, but other than that I was pretty genki.  

Back in my room my roommate was waiting anxiously.  For her I know her concern was two-fold.  The first I already mentioned but the second; if I made it, if I came back alive somehow it meant she would.  She wanted to talk to me and the translators, angels in their own right, urged her not to talk too much that I was unable to talk to heal my chords.  "Ah big singer!"  I saw her eyes brighten as she backed up and I drifted back into the ether's of my surgical bliss.  I was having a dream or was in a happy place when they aroused me.  I couldn't quite get back there.  

Slowly as I came two she came and gave me two tangerines.  I nodded and smiled.  

I left the hospital before she got out of surgery.  But in the same way she rooted for me, I rooted for her, am still rooting for her speedy recovery.  Last night as I lay in my comfortable bed in Shin-Urayasu, I thought of her and the dingy room we shared for two nights.  Was she alone in that room, was someone there to replace me?  I wanted her name or something but I don't think I will ever see her again.  For me she was my angel of hope and she helped get me through.  Deshta my friend!