When it isn't so glamorous to be an expat

A lot of people hear about our travel schedule and think that we're just a regular group of Paris Hiltons jet setting around the globe. Believe me when I say that travel is the safety valve of our existence. I have logged many, many hours in coach class, meditating my way to sanity in spite of the stench of the Aeroflot fish selections, simply because I can't stand Moscow for one second longer. There's a reason why Moscow, Russia is ranked between Nicaragua and Tripoli, Libya in terms of difficulty and desirability of expat assignments. There are some cool things. Case in point: today, Emmy-winning Daily Show writer Kevin Bleyer was the guest speaker in my daughter's English class. Not many junior English students have such interesting lecture material. Last night, would I have cared about "The Daily Show?" Not really. Yesterday Abby came home from school sick. Not so much home as my friend Carolyn's house in Pokrovsky Hills, the expat compound adjacent to school. I've been camping there during the week because I've been substitute teaching early morning seminary. I'd sleep on Carolyn's couch, snuggling with her miniature schnauzer Kate, do some reading for my Latin American history class and eat lunch at the school. Since we had so many school events this week it was nice to be close by. At first, I thought Abby was simply exhausted from lack of sleep and school stress. By around 4PM, it became clear we would have to skip her choir performance. By 7PM, she was doubled over in pain, running a fever and crying because of her misery. This presented me with a problem. I couldn't tell from her symptoms exactly what she had. She didn't present with classic stomach flu symptoms like vomiting or cramps. Her whole belly was sensitive and the pain seemed centered in the mid to lower right-hand quadrant of her abdomen. Hubby's family has a history of appendicitis before age 20 so a malfunctioning intestine was not out of the question. The level of her pain troubled me, the violent nausea and the sudden onset of fever were bad signs. I called my friend the nurse, called the European Medical Center (useless--the triage nurse barely spoke English) and figured out what taxis I could call in the middle of the night that had dispatchers that spoke English and operated 24 hours a day. Our driver lives a good 45 minutes away without traffic. There's no way he could make it in a timely fashion. Have I mentioned how much I hate Moscow traffic? It's worse right now because the Russians are out 24/7 shopping for New Year's, spending everything they have since they think the ruble is going to collapse in a few months. She finally collapsed on the couch in a fitful sleep. Her fever stayed elevated. I haven't felt that kind of panic since my children were little. I'm stuck in a compound on the outskirts of a city that has traffic jams at 6:30AM with no car, no doctor I'd find trustworthy within 5 kilometers of my house and waiting to see if my daughter has a gastrointestinal virus or whether she'd need surgery. I have no pharmacy that's trustworthy within 5 kilometers (counterfeit drugs are an issue in Russia). The temperature is hovering around -6 to -8 Celsius, lower with wind chill. It's a special kind of stress you feel in moments like that. I even bought a bottle of vodka to have on hand in case we had to give her an alcohol bath to get her fever down (an old trick I learned from my Indian cooking teacher/friend Anita). No way you can use Tylenol when pain is the only symptom you can follow. I slept on the couch beside Abby, waking up periodically to check on her fever and her pain level. By about 3AM I was satisfied that it wasn't appendicitis and I crawled in my bed to sleep for two hours. I taught seminary and discussed why sometimes we are more 'Glinda' from Wicked than 'Elphaba'--what can I say? My brain was having serious serotonin deprivation issues. I missed the trip to the children's cancer hospital because Abby's insides weren't cooperating. I baked cookies for the mission's Christmas zone conference, talked to a sister missionary whose bank card is coming with my daughter on Saturday, edited my college daughter's paper on Russia/EU relations, slept for an hour because I had a headache that would slay an elephant and tried to catch up on the laundry. My friends Elke, Gloria and Sister Cranney, the mission mom, and I all talked about what we're going to do when the economy crashes and the grocery shipments to Moscow start being hijacked and compared notes on the latest attempt by the Kremlin to shut down free speech. One twin staggered home on time. The other twin called at 6:30PM to tell us that she'd been in a school bus crash, that she was fine, but that they were stranded until they could find another vehicle to bring them to our compound. At least they travel with an armed security guard. One twin is only halfway through the biology lab from hell (2800 words so far); the other pleaded with me to let her stay home tomorrow. She's about two notches above the walking dead. Elke did let me know that she would be available 24 hours a day to take us to the EMC in Moscow Center should it come to that. Bless Elke. I may be able to sleep without taking a Benadryl tonight. I may be able to relax without stress eating my way through my only remaining box of Nilla Wafers. There is a light at the end of the tunnel. Abby has watched all of "Psych" season 1 today. She's now working her way through "Monk" season 3--on German DVDs borrowed from St. Elke the Good. We heard this morning that Sara was upgraded to business class on her connecting flight to JFK tomorrow. This may mean the difference between wheeling her out of Sheremetyvo on a luggage cart or her walking out of her own volition after inevitable weather/air traffic delays. And so, gentle readers, don't be fooled by the travelogues. Life as an expat isn't all cultural enrichment and family pictures taken in front of iconic landmarks. Sometimes its sleeping on your crappy IKEA couch with nothing to watch but "Russia Today" propaganda, fingers crossed that you won't be stuck in holiday traffic at 2AM and fantasizing about "Target" and PF Changs lettuce wraps. When I inevitably write about my upcoming trips to Switzerland and Paris, France, please remember that I would trade my frequent jaunts to Europe for a WallMart--especially after a night like last night.