My flight home

I know that this blog is not in chronological order, but you'll just have to bare with me.

The Grand Prince Hotel Akasaka staff lined up to wave good bye to us.

Leaving Japan was a breeze, although my big bag was overweight and I had to pay 3000 yen for the privilege of getting it back to the states. Narita Airport was easy to navigate and the employees of United Airlines in Japan were very helpful.

I was able to board my flight early and the flight attendant helped me with maneuvering my bag into the overhead compartment.

I had the middle seat on every flight I was on for the entire journey. On the flight from Japan to San Francisco the gentleman who had the window seat was a body builder and wrestler. I am not kidding or exaggerating. His arms were easily bigger around than my thighs. He was wearing a tank top. He was huge! Now remember that we are flying economy and we will be sandwiched together for ten long hours.

The body builder was on my left, that's the side with the broken arm, and an average, normal size American guy was on my right.

My wrestler friend had two dinners and three breakfasts! Yum, airline food!

When we arrived in San Francisco we had to stay on the plane while a passenger was removed. It seems for the last five hours of the flight this gentleman had become determined to open the door and get off. It took a while before they escorted him off in handcuffs and interviewed the witnesses.

I only had an hour and a half between connecting flights and part of that had been lost due to the delusional passenger. I got my bags and with help maneuvered them onto a cart. I passed through customs with no problem.

At San Francisco security the fun begin in earnest. I did as I had been told to do. I explained that I have recently acquired a metal plate in my arm and that it will set off the metal detectors. I asked to be pulled out for a pat down and to have my arm swabbed to detect any explosives. I was told to wait and go through the metal detector. This slowed everything down. The security folks were slow. It is humiliating enough to go into the little clear acrylic isolation booth, but this is followed by being swept with a metal detector followed by being physically patted down by hand. Finally they take two swabs and go over my hands and splint. Everywhere else I had been asked if I wanted to have this done in a small private booth. Not in San Francisco.

I was watching the clock. My plane would begin boarding in five minutes. One of the security agents asked to look in my bag. I opened it and he took a quick peek. My hand was swollen from the previous flight and I couldn't zip the bag closed again. Time was passing. The security agents watched with interest as I tried to close my bag. I finally asked for help and was soon on my way.

At the terminal one of United Airlines employees refused to let me board early when I told her that I would need assistance boarding. She instead asked me if I would like a wheelchair. Wasn't it United that used to ask you to fly the friendly skies?

We landed in Houston and had to wait for a plane to vacate our gate. I was ready to be home.

Sure enough when I came out of the terminal Joel was there waiting. What a sight for sore eyes! He went with me to baggage claim and helped wrestle my bags onto another cart. In every other airport the carts were free. I was surprised to have to pay three dollars to use a cart in my hometown. Welcome to Houston, ya'll!

I was glad to arrive home to the heat and humidity and my own bed.

Of broken bones and traveling

If you have a choice of traveling with a broken bone or not, my advice is don't do it. If you are going to do it anyway make sure you take along plenty of ibuprophen.

If I had been able to change the dates of my JFMF trip from the June cycle to the October cycle I would have. As it is, I am a hard head and I just couldn't pass up the opportunity. Everyone I know told me that the JFMF is the trip of a lifetime and they were right. Broken arm or not, I couldn't pass it up.

Variations in temperature and altitude caused me problems. Fast elevator rides hurt. Heat made my hand swell. Several times during the trip I attempted things that I simply could not do and the pain was excruciating. My eyes filled with tears.

Several of my travel companions were quite kind and if it hadn't been for them I could never have made it all the way through. They helped with my bags and included me in their activities. For this I am incredibly grateful.

There were times that I felt sorry for myself. Self-pity is an ugly thing no matter where you are.

At other times I felt angry. One of my fellow travelers had the audacity to ask if I felt my broken arm was effecting my emotional state. I found her question cruel and thoughtless. The answer to her question was not simply yes, but hell yes. My mobility was effected. My balance was thrown off. I couldn't put up my hair or fasten my bra. I could only apply deodorant to one armpit. I had to put a bag on my arm to shower. If I ate too much soy sauce with my sushi my hand would balloon out. I couldn't take part in group activities like bowling. Finally, I could only type with one hand, which left me poking and plodding away at a task I normally fly through.

Since our free day was at the beginning of the trip my arm limited where and what I could do. My desire to go to Kamakura, Kyoto, Hiroshima or Nara was not to be. At that point in the trip I couldn't handle crowded trains or having my arm jostled and bumped. I spent my free day in Tokyo wandering around with some fellow JFMFers.

Towards the end of the trip my arm was doing much better. I no longer needed the sling. I could use my fingers and, if i did it correctly, I could carry light objects.

What the arm looked like under the bandages on the next to last day of the trip.

Just letting it stew

I have not left Japan yet, but I have started to reflect over my experiences here. Just as a pot of stew will simmer on the stove so my thoughts and memories are simmering in the back of my mind.

I set out on this trip with very high hopes and expectations. I was hoping and believing that I would see extraordinary art education here in the land whose art inspired the likes of Van Gogh and Gauguin among others. I also started out on this trip with a broken arm that was more of a hindrance than I was willing to admit.

I toured the elementary school and found that there was no art specialist on campus and that art was only taught on Monday and then only two of the grade levels took part. I need to note here that the school was very small. There were only 101 students. A budget that supported a separate art teacher was probably not a possibility. The head principal at the school is a master calligrapher. Calligraphy is an art form in its own right and this man is most certainly an artist. In the course of a lesson in the school garden where the students raise vegetables, they came back inside and drew themselves in the garden.

In the Junior High I saw some lovely work. Students worked from photographs. I did see beautiful examples of color exercises and, a couple of days previously, we had run into some of these same students painting along the river in Sawara. The book on the teacher's desk was Johannes Itten's color text. This is one of the books that I use at home in the United States.

When I traveled through Europe I finally understood why the various painters from the Renaissance to the impressionists painted as they did. They were capturing their environment in two dimensions. The quality of light, the land, the plants, the sense of place are there because this is where they worked, this is what they saw.

As I write this I am thinking of Monet and his Japanese bridge, Monet whose work was inspired in part by Japanese woodblock prints. Monet has been big news this week when his painting of waterlilies sold at auction for a record $80 million.

In my mind's eye I see the iris festival that I was privileged to visit twice during this trip.

I let my mind wander to the almost tactile sensation of crossing beneath a Tori gate and entering the quiet beauty of the forest as I approach a Shinto shrine.

The smell of earth and trees warmed by the sun while I walk through cool green shade past pools of koi and turtles. The wisps of incense carried on a breeze.

I long to see more Japanese art created by Japanese art teachers and their students. I know that several of my colleagues said they saw a great deal more than I did. I wish that I could tour Japan looking at the school art rooms across the country.

This trip has taught me a great deal, but it has also highlighted how little I know.

I am waiting to have time to reflect over my experiences here. I hope to correspond with both my Japanese and AmericanI. Maybe in this way I'll find answers to the questions that I have.

Perhaps there is some way to collaborate between our art classrooms using the internet, something more than showing student work in an online gallery, something somehow interactive that allows the students and the art teachers to establish a dialogue across the Pacific.

I need to say thank you to the Japan Fulbright Memorial Fund and the Japanese government for making it possible for me to take this trip. So many people did so much to make this trip a possibility. Thank you all!

Let me now sing the praises of the dogs of Tokyo

Dogs and small children, both seem to act as magnets.

Wandering around Tokyo I spotted both, but what got my attention the most were the dogs, particularly their clothes. So, for your viewing pleasure, I bring you some of the dogs of Tokyo.


Dogs in shades


Pretty in Pink


Sports fan


Daddy's girl

Beauty in small things - manhole covers

Attention to detail and aesthetics is everywhere.


It's not a manhole cover, but isn't it lovely!



Tokyo


Chiba City


Kartori (Sawara)

Skipping Around in Japan

I just sat here in my room on the 28th floor if the Grand Prince Akasaka Hotel in Tokyo and watched a red half moon rise over the Tokyo skyline. I tried to photograph it, but I just couldn't catch it.


A small piece of my view.

Who would ever have thought that I would be here?

Katori and Sawara

The day started with a trip to Katori City Hall where with met with three parents representing the three levels, elementary, junior high and high school. There was a question and answer session that left me convinced that we are more alike than we think.

We had a box lunch at City Hall and boarded the bus for Sawara.

We visited the Inoh Tadataka Museum. Inoh Tadataka surveyed Japan and made an incredibly accurate map of the entire country.


We shopped and observed students drawing along the river.


Our next stop was the Katori Shrine.


I think I found Totoro's tree!

Our final stop was the botanical gardens to see the irises. Nothing I can say can begin to approach the beauty of this place.

Chiba City and on to Kasimu

We checked in to the Mitsui Garden Hotel in Chiba without any further excitement. After a short settling in, I set out exploring. I wasn't feeling horribly adventurous at this point, so I started with circling the block and then circling, or maybe that should be spiraling, outward. There is a park across the street from the hotel and a Shinto shrine about two blocks away.

Dinner was on our own and I had missed lunch. I set out in search of food. As i passed a variety of restaurants, I realized I was craving good old American cuisine. Less than a full block from the hotel was an 8 story shopping mall. It was enticing for more reasons than one. It had a sign with a picture of a big, juicy cheese burger on a sign near the door and ,high overhead in huge letters, a sign for Tower Records. Yes, friends and neighbors, the same Tower Records that used to be located less than a half mile from my home in Houston! Now I know where music stores go when they leave Houston!

The food court was on the 8th floor. There I was lured in by the exterior of a small restaurant that looked extremely out of place. A neon Tecate sign glowed by the rough wood entrance and there, next to the entrance, was posted the same picture of a real live, scrumptious cheese burger. Not a McDonald's burger, but the real thing.



I headed back to the hotel with a Japanese DVD of My Neighbor Totoro and two CDs by Ayano Tsuji or is that Tsuji Ayano?

The next morning we went headed to Chiba University where we met the education faculty. I had the good fortune to get to talk with the Associate Professor of Visual Arts, Jinno Shingo.

From there we travelled on to Katori City where we visited a Sake Brewery and then met a papier mache artisan named Miuraya-san. He had created a rabbit that was used as an image on Japanese postage stamps. He demonstrated his technique of created works using a drape mold.





Finally, after a question and answer session we went to our hotel, the Kashima Central Hotel. It's a beautiful hotel with all the amenities.

I went with several other members of my group in search of dinner. We walked an incredible distance before we settled on a restaurant in another hotel. I had eel, which is very tasty.

On the long walk back we stopped at Baskin Robbins for ice cream, then it was back to the hotel for sweet dreams.

Tomorrow would be another day all too soon and it was set to be as full as any of the preceding ones.

Latest excitement

Our bus was in a wreck on our way to Chiba City.

The woman in the other car was very lucky. Her right arm was injured and bleeding, but she and her passenger were both able to get out of their car on their own. Her car was totalled.


Our bus appeared drivable, but we had to wait and change rides. Wawako-san hit her cheek on the dash of the bus and one of the younger teachers was complaining of neck pain. One of our ranks went to the hospital with lower back pain. We were all wearing seat belts when the wreck occurred.


The rest of us are safely installed in our hotel. We were brought here in a small convoy of black taxis.


Chiba out my window

Now it is time to explore Chiba City and find some lunch.

Later.

Trying to catch you up to date

So many things have happened, so many places seen, so many speakers heard, how can I even begin to tell you about it all?



We have met politicians


and Hiroshima survivors,


watched Kubuki


and Kyogen,
ridden buses and subways,


toured temples


and the halls of government,



seen a festival at the nearby shrine


and seen a wedding, and walked and walked and walked.

Before we arrived in Tokyo there was a horrible incident in Akihabara Electric Town. A young man went on a rampage, driving a rented truck into a crowd and then jumping out and stabbing people. Similar things have happened in the States and actually still do. Here in Japan seems to be a much rarer event. Yesterday we happened onto the site of the incident. Passersby were stopping to offer flowers. It reminded me of the memorial to Tom Jones in front of the Art Car Museum in Houston.


Memorial in Akihabara Electric Town

Yesterday at 8:43 we felt an earthquake. Here on the 28th floor, I felt the building sway and heard it creak and groan. It felt like being on a boat, but without the boat. The epicenter was north of Tokyo, but we felt it all the same. I don't believe I would want to get any closer to one of these things.

This morning we are off to Chiba Prefecture!

Welcome to Tokyo!

We arrived in Tokyo on Tuesday, June 10th.

The Fulbright Memorial Fund folks were great. There were signs and greeters all along our path. Good thing. too. as jet lag was definitely taking its toll.

Approximately 160 lagged out teachers dragged wheeled luggage out to our waiting buses. We were met by our guides, all of whom are volunteers. They, in turn directed us to buses by Host City.

Our guide, Keiko-san, in front of our bus

The bus ride into Tokyo passed in a blur. On the bus we were given our meal allowance, signed a receipt for our allowance and handed in a copy of our itinerary.

My arm ached from the flight.

We are staying at the Grand Prince Hotel Akasaka and, yes, it is as luxiourious as it sounds. At the hotel we disembarked and received our room assignments. We each have our own room.


My first view of my room

After a quick clean-up in the our rooms we went to meet some of the Japanese Fulbright Scholars. Each of us was assigned a table with of the Fulbrighters.

I was at Table 8 with three other teachers and Mr. Shigeru Tabe. He was at the University of Michigan in 1967 where he studied linguistics on a Fulbright Scholarship for two years.

After a short talk by David Satterwhite, we walked with Tabe-san to a lovely restaurant called Wa Zatami for dinner. It was awesome! Sashimi to my heart's delight!


Entertainment provided by Yuko Naito on Koto and Koumei Ashigaki on Shakuhachi


Ebi AKA Shrimp


Sashimi AKA Raw Fish, yum!


Edamame AKA Soy Beans

Afterwards Tabe-san left us and we wandered around for awhile.

I had forgotten to take anything for pain and was nearly in tears by the time I made it back to the room. I won't make that mistake again!

More later. I have another full day ahead.

Leaving San Francisco

I have discovered that traveling with a broken arm can be difficult. Duh!

Going through security at airports with a metal plate in my wrist requires a pat down and having my splint swabbed. Oh, well.


Here you see me and the arm preparing to leave San Francisco.

As usual, everything that could go wrong did.

I was in the first group leaving for Tokyo. There are so many JFMF teachers that they divided us into two groups. I was looking forward to arriving to Tokyo early, but this was not to be.

First, the plane was delayed by one hour, than a small mechanical problem had to be fixed which meant finding and installing a new part, and, finally, someone had to be found to take the entryway (Why do I always want to call it the gang plank?) away from the plane so that we could move to the runway.

Once in the air it is slightly more than ten hours to Tokyo.

I did my best to keep my arm elevated.

Up, up, up, and awaaaaaaaaaaaaaay!

Welcome to San Francisco!

View from my hotel room


View of San Francisco from the window of the Consul general's residence

The trip began with taking off, flying for about 15 minutes and then returning to Houston. The pilot said there was smoke in the electronics compartment. We returned to the ground in Houston gently enough where there was a panic of passengers trying to reset their flights to make their connections to Beijing and Hong Kong. After a long delay we were told that the smoke detector was defective, so we reboarded the plan.

Several hours later I found myself in San Francisco explaining over and over to my new JFMF peers how I broke my arm.

We turned in our Follow On Plans, picked up our books, and went to orientation. We heard from Christopher Powers, the director of IIE, Robert Radford, the director of Friends of the Memorial Fund, and David Satterwhite, the executive director of the Japan-United States Educational Commission. A panel of former JFMFers told us about their experiences. We met with our city groups and changed clothes to go to a reception at the Official Residence of Japanese Consul General Yasumasa Nagamine.

I started this entry in San Francisco in the lobby of the Sheraton Gateway Hotel, but had to finish it off in Tokyo. I thought I had lost this entry when we were called to the buses. I had to log down as quickly as I could.

Cleared for Take Off!

We left early for the Physicians' Clinic this morning. I had barely slept last night. It was a night filled with nightmares and waking up only to doze off again and find myself back in some disturbing dream situation.

Arriving at the clinic it looked as though I had walked into one of my nightmares. The waiting room that had been so full last week was empty. The only people there were two receptionists. When we asked at the desk we were told no doctors were in today.

I explained that I had an appointment. The receptionists informed us that they didn't show anything. I pulled papers out of my folder. One of the young women made a call to my doctor's nurse. It turned out she was headed over right then.

Once she arrived she removed my splint and cut away the cotton that was wound around my arm. She gently removed the bandage. I was able to see my arm for the first time in two weeks. There is an approximately four inch wound, very straight and beautifully stitched together.

She put a new bandage on and showed me how to take care of it. The last thing was a splint that supports my wrist.

Finally, she gave me a note stating that I can travel.

I am a very lucky woman. Good doctors, good medical care from the moments after the accident through the present.

I can use my arm and my hand. I can type with two hands. Best of all, I can go to Japan! Yes!

Surgery at last!

Tuesday at noon we headed over to the Day Surgery. By evening I was headed home with a much smaller splint and a metal plate and several screws in my forearm. It wasn't fun, but my arm is easier to deal with.

I spent Wednesday and Thursday nursing my arm and crossing my fingers. My suitcase is almost completely packed. I still need to finish buying my gifts for my host family.

This evening Joel and I went to a reception at the Japanese Consul General's residence. I seem to be the only area teacher going on the Spring (June) 2008 Cycle. Everyone else at the reception was either a JFMF alumni or a Fall (October) Cycle person.

The reception was great. Carl Rosa of the Japan America Society Houston gave a really informative talk that gave a picture of the size and population of Tokyo. It's mind boggling.

In the morning I go to the Physician's Clinic again for my follow-up. I should have my travel approval tomorrow. Actually I have to have it tomorrow. My flight is Sunday morning at 6:55 A. M.

Cross your fingers for me. Say a prayer. Here we go!

Diaster Strikes , Part VI

I couldn't get any rest Thursday night. I tossed and turned. I had nightmares when I did doze off. I was up Friday well before dawn, well before the hour that all the people I wanted to reach would even be stirring.

I bagged my arm and took a shower. I mumbled to myself about the indignities of showering with my arm inside a billowing, white, Glad Tall Kitchen Garbage Bag. As my frustration grew so did my volume. I got loud enough that both my husband and my dog were worried.

Once I was dry and dressed for the day, I started making phone calls. It was still too early to reach any one, but I had a plan. In a short amount of time I had created a list of names and numbers complete with office hours and any other information that I could cull from the various office recordings and websites.

At 8:00 sharp I started calling. I called number after number, sometimes making contact, more often leaving messages. By 8:45 I had run through all the numbers I had. I was about as frustrated as I could be. Nearing tears, I called the school nurse again. She very patiently explained that I was unlikely to have much luck before 9:00. She suggested I wait until 9:00 or 9:30.

I went and laid down on my bed and promptly found myself embroiled in a nightmare where i was trying to explain to some towering, huge entity that I was supposed to go to Japan. This being was so tall that I couldn't see its head. I was screaming and trying every way that I knew to be heard, but it was all in vain. I woke up sweating. It was 10:00 AM.

I started all over again. I called all the numbers I had already called and some new ones that I had just thought of. Slowly, I started to get some positive responses. One woman told me there was supposed to be a three day turn around on the paperwork for my surgery, but once I explained what the problem was she said she would see what she could do.

I called the long suffering school nurse back at least twice more. Each time she acted as my cheering section, coming up with suggestions and making a call here and there for me.

By late afternoon everything was coming together. The whole thing had become a comedy of technology. There were new fax machines that didn't fax correctly, faxes that only made it half way through, miscommunication of all sorts and kinds. I encountered many kind, but overworked individuals. One by one, things begin to come together. Phone calls were returned. Faxes flew, fast and furious.

By my last phone call of the afternoon all the faxes had found their proper places and I had received the authorization code for my surgery. Unfortunately it couldn't speed everything up. I would have to wait one more weekend. At least it wasn't another holiday weekend.

Diaster Strikes , Part V

Thursday was one of the longest days of my life. I spent the whole day waiting for word on when my surgery would be.

Meanwhile, back at my school, it was the last day of the school year for the kids. All my friends and colleagues were packing up and getting ready for the summer break, either that or summer school.

My room was left exactly the way I last saw it on Friday. There was nothing I could do about it. I had spoken to my principal. My medical papers said that I wasn't to lift anything with my left hand. This really wasn't much of an issue, since even attempting to grasp a piece of paper with my left hand was excruciatingly painful.

I waited and I waited and I waited for a phone call that never came. I could feel Japan slipping away.

Thursday night I couldn't sleep. I had to come up with a plan of action.

Joel bore the brunt of my frustration and fear.

Friday would be another day.

Diaster Strikes Part VI

Wednesday morning we arrived at the orthopedics clinic half an hour early. I filled out paper work while Joel looked at a magazine.

I kept a close eye on the women working the reception area. I kept listening to see if I recognized any of the voices from the previous day's phone calls.

After a very short wait, we were called into another sitting area to await another round of X-rays.

I had taken the precaution of not eating anything since the previous day's dinner in the hope that the doctor would be able to fix me up right away. I could have had a large breakfast and it wouldn't have made any difference.

When we first got to the clinic, the waiting room had been close to full, or so I had thought. When I returned to the waiting room after being X-rayed, I begin to understand what full meant and why I had originally been told June 16th. Every few moments there were new arrivals: people in casts, people on crutches, people in wheelchairs, children with their arms in slings. A man who couldn't have been older than forty arrived in a wheelchair. His left leg had been recently amputated at the knee. A young woman brought in a man in a wheelchair with a broken leg and a broken arm. He seemed to be totally lost someplace between pain and a medicated haze. A woman I took to be his mother joined them slghtly later.

It reached the point that the waiting room was at or beyond capacity. If some of these folks had not come in wheelchairs it would long ago have run out of seats. When the fifth or sixth wheelchair arrived with its human host and their escorts, the center of the room had become a tangle of wheels and walkers, casts and crutches. An old woman arrived on a gurney accompanied by oxygen bottles and EMS workers. Thy didn't try to bring her inside, but instead parked her gurney in the hallway. The hallway begin to fill with more hurt and damaged people.

Early on in this parade of hurt and wounded people I had begun to sink lower in my chair as I realized what a selfish, self-absorbed, snivelling brat I had been. The importance of my broken arm looked like nothing at all next to the injuries of the people around me.

Still, I was determined, if at all possible, to go to Japan.

My name was called and I headed back to an examining room with Joel in tow.

At this point I have to pause for a moment and sing Joel's praises. I am not a very good patient. I am also the queen of understatement, so you know that my husband puts up with a lot of rather irritating behavior on my part. I try to be good, really I do, but when the stakes are a three week trip to Japan, a trip that I have applied for five times over six years and only just now been accepted for, well, I get a little antsy. Thank God for Joel because, besides chauffeuring me around and putting up with me, he actually heard what the doctors and nurses said and remembered it. By this point, I had selective hearing loss.

The doctor took a look at my X-rays and gave me two options. One, have them put a cast on and have them X-ray it weekly , watching to make sure the bones don't move. The odds of the bones moving was pretty darned high and the consequences include operating, re-breaking the bone and using pins to put it back together. Option number two was surgery. They would install a metal plate and matching screws that will hold the bone together.

Personally, I was hoping to go for whatever was behind door number three, but this was apparently not an option.

I took choice number two. The doctor left the room while I tried to call the JFMF people and tell them what was happening. I had called the previous day and let them know about my arm, but I needed to keep them up to date about my status.

A nurse came and talked to me about the surgery. The hopes were that I would go in for surgery last Friday, but, as you'll soon see, this was not to be. She gave me a packet of papers that covered what I would need to do pre-surgery. As we finished up she told me that I would receive a phone call between 1:30 and 6:00 the next day telling me what time my surgery would be.

With that Joel and I were dismissed. He dropped me at the house and headed back to work. I went back to waiting.

Diaster Strikes Part III

The day after The Great Break I woke to find my fingers swollen and discolored. They felt tingly. I read the hospital instructions. They seemed quite clear. If my fingers were swollen, discolored, as in purplish, and tingly I should return so that they could help me.

Joel drove me back to the ER. After a slight wait I felt rather foolish when all I needed was to have the bandages on the splint loosened.

The holiday weekend passed slowly, painfully, and very stressful.

On Tuesday morning, bright and early, I called the doctors' offices and got a delightful young woman on the phone. I explained to her that my instructions from the hospital said to call and make an appointment for Wednesday. She blithely ignored all I had to say and asked if I was a new patient. When I told her I was she said I could have an appointment on June 16th.

I attempted to explain that I had been told that I might require surgery and my discharge papers from the ER specifically said to make an appointment for Wednesday. She continued to tell me the earliest appointment that I could have was on June 16th. After several more failed attempts at communication, I lost my temper entirely, at which point she enquired quite calmly as to whether I had been to the ER. When I said yes, she informed me that, in that case my arm had been stabilized and I could go as long as four weeks without seeing anyone.

I hung up without thanking her and called the nurse at my school. She listened quietly to my rantings. When I had finally disintegrated into tears and sobs she suggested that I call back and ask for a supervisor.

I called back and got a different voice on the line, but the message remained the same, June 16th. I asked for the voice's supervisor. After several minutes a woman came on the line. This time I read the discharge papers to her and then I tried to explain about the Japan Fulbright Memorial Fund. At the end of the conversation I still didn't have an appointment.

Bordering on hysterics, I called the school nurse back. She took the name and number of the woman I had just spoken to and told me she would call me right back.

Five minutes passed and my phone rang. The school nurse told me that she had spoken with the supervisor and explained, one medical person to the other, why I was so distraught. She suggested that I call her back.

When I called I requested the supervisor by name. she was very kind and gentle with me and by the end of the conversation I had an appointment for 8:15 Wednesday morning.

There was still a possibility that I would be going to Japan!