Holding my breath..

I'm holding my breath a lot these days. I know I shouldn't be but I can't help it. N walks into the room, and I hold my breath. I breathe into my shoulder. I turn my head and try to suck in air from close to my body (what use that is is anyone's guess!!) or I try to discretely leave the room.

This is insane. She must feel like a leper but no matter how I rationalise this I still feel the fear. I still panic. I still want her out of the house. Part of this is of course because of her diagnosis but another part is because I fear that she won't be honest if things change.

Most people wouldn't hide a lump on their neck until it was the size of a mandarin - they would be worried but they would go and get it checked out. Most people would get it checked out months before it grew to that size.

She is instead relying on a prayer handkerchief that someone from her village has blessed that she wraps around her neck. And, it doesn't get washed as it would wash away the blessing.

I tried to talk her out of this last night.

"N. I think you should be uncovering your neck. It probably needs air to heal."

"No. It is a prayer and if I take it off it will get worse."

"Yeah well. The doctor didn't really suggest this. Maybe you could just wear it sometimes."

"NO. I have to wear it all the time."

The problem for me is also that I don't trust her to tell me if things get worse. The fact that this boil grew to such a huge size means I don't have confidence that she will tell me if she starts to cough. If she starts to feel much worse. Or if she starts to have any other symptoms. If the TB moves to her chest or becomes active.

I don't feel like I can really trust her anymore.

Part of this is, of course, money related.

For her, working overseas has been a very lucrative move. She is earning much more than she ever did back in the Philippines and this means that she is much better off financially. For her to admit that she is not well, could mean that she loses her job. It could mean that she is sent back to her family to recuperate. Instead, she wants me to look after her.

She told a friend of mine that we are like sisters.

But that is not at all how I see the relationship. I would catergorise it as that of long term cleaning lady - I am polite and pleasant to her but basically we have a financial relationship. She is hired to do a job and the emotional relationship is very small. We don't discuss personal matters, she is not affectionate to my children, we don't talk about family matters. We discuss what vegetables to cook for dinner or what priority of household chores needs to be done. And that is about it. The thing is though that living in such close proximity to another person you have to have a more formal relationship or it simply won't sustain. The person that I want to be close to is my husband or my friends. Not N.

So things are compunded by guilt. I feel guilty about my reaction to her illnes... I feel panicked about her illness and I feel mistrustful of her ability not to make financially based decsions.

At best I see this situation continuing for about a month. She sees the specialist in four weeks and we will have more information at that point. Ideally, I want her to go home and be with her family. I want her mother to take care of her and I want my house back to myself. But I also want her to get better and not suffer by being back in a third world country. And I need to protect my family.

The banker spends his days being rationale about this. Thank God I married a rationalist and as soon as he is home I feel calmer.

Today I woke up to a house reeking of vinegar. The kitchen is steaming in vinegar. The toilets have been wiped down in vinegar. The windows polished with vinegar and her lunch is simmering away on the stove in litres of vinegar.

Her mother suggested it as a way to purify the house, and to help heal her neck.

Meanwhile I am dry retching in the study. I am trying to be OK about this but I feel ill with the smell. Add to that boiled mutton and I am just about to abandon house and home.

Vinegar, boiled mutton and TB woman walking around coughing and trailing prayer handkerchiefs wherever she goes.

So today will be another holding my breath day...

What did we think about?

Perhaps this should really be called, what didn't we think about!

Being married to a banker meant that the number of things we evaluated and considered was huge.

We started off by looking at what was happening around the world during the six months before the posting was due for renewal. We looked more seriously at what was happening in Asia and in Europe on a country by country basis. The banker called the HR departments in a number of countries where he had good solid relationships to suss out what was happening and he also started to think about contacts and connections - everything in this world is always about contacts!

Then we started having country specific discussions along the lines of "What do you think about Vietnam? India? China?"

"Sure, wherever" was usually my response.

As the time got closer the banker had to make more serious contact with the various HR departments, and he polished up his CV and sent it to various contacts in the bank. He worked out what the market was paying in different countries and evaluated what our package was worth: in English pounds, Aussie dollars, Hong Kong dollars and a variety of other currencies.

How much money could we bank is we rented a 4 bedroom house in Hong Kong and the kids went to an international school as opposed to renting in the UK and sending them to a public school? Was it a valid comparison? Which was the more likely or more favoured option in terms of accommodation, education, employment opportunities for me, tax rates, interest rates? How do we factor in health risks in Asia such as SARs and bird flu? Was it important? How would I fare in these countries (as an asthmatic) and would I breathe easier in one country or another?

I did comprehensive allergy testing.

Where did the kids want to go? Should we consider their opinion? Or not? Was the information that they offered valid or too emotional?

How would we handle moving them to another country? How much would airfares be back to Australia? And how often would we want to go? What was the impact of ageing parents on this?

Should we ship over all of our goods that are scattered all over the world to one central location? Do we leave stuff in Australia? Should we buy or rent? What was our long term retirement plan? Which country did we think we would be living in? How long would the banker have left in a traditional corporate environment? How could he best place himself in the future? What areas of the bank were more lucrative? Growing? Declining? In demand?

If we moved what would we do with the dog? The guinea pigs? The fish?

I worked out a 76 day exit strategy and planned it all out on Entourage - I worked out how long it would take to get visas, immunisations, letters from the school. I stopped buying large jars of coffee and started purchasing itty bitty sized jars.

We ate our way through the pantry and had car boot sales culling down all sorts of odd things even though we tend to travel fairly lightly.

And now?

Some of it has been for no use at all. Some of it has been very valuable and most of it has helped in making a decision that stands up on its own two feet - in terms of the banker's long term career, in terms of the children's education and in terms of our future.

Right now though all I feel is a sense of absolutely blessed relief that this whole muddied, complicated, stressful process is behind us now. For another two or three years.

And this time I am keeping all my files, all my plans and all my inventories reasonably up t date so I can just dust them off again and do it again.

See you in 2009!

Truly, madly, deeply worrying

Feel like things are truly, madly, deeply worrying right now.

Last week N comes into the kitchen with a boil on her neck. Or so I think.

N, who followed us from Hong Kong is our domestic helper. She cooks, cleans, irons. Does all those tedious domestic things around the house that keeps it functioning and operational. I do the children - she does the house.

Anyway, she comes in with this massive lump on her neck. Having very long hair that she tends to wear down, this lump has been well and truly covered. And apparently it has been growing for the last couple of months. Once I see it ( and it is the size of an apricot) I send her down to Accident and Emergency immediately.

"God N! Go down to the hospital and get this checked out! Now!"

"It is OK. I will finish cooking dinner. Maybe I go next week..."

"No. You go now!"

So off she mopes with a piece of paper in hand asking her to write down the name of the doctor, the diagnosis and the treatment.

She comes back four hours later.

"So what happened?" I query.

"Well. Um. I saw the doctor ... " she peters out.

"Which doctor?"

"The doctor at the hospital."

"I know that N. Which doctor did you see?"

"Oh. The Indian one."

"And his name???"

"Um...."

"Fine. So what did the Indian doctor say?"

"Well, he say..."

"Yes..."

"He say that he looked at my neck."

"Yes???"

"Anyway I have medicine."

Great. So she saw someone, who diagnosed something and gave her some medication. No idea who she saw, what they diagnosed or what the medicine is.

So next day, I head back down there with her and we see another doctor.

This doctor takes one look at her and immediately swabs her neck, takes a culture and sends if off to pathology. He thinks it isn't cancer but is concerned.

A couple of days later I get a call from the hospital.

"Hi. It is Dr L. I have N here with me and she wants me to talk to you. Basically N has a form of latent tuberculosis.

Fuck!!!!

Everything goes pear-faced at this point in time. My heart is racing. As a chronic asthmatic who lived in Hong Kong during SARS, I am probably best described as having marginal health anxieties. Others would be less charitable and say I am a hypochondriac. And suddenly I am living with someone who has some form of TB.

In my house.

With my children.

The thing is that I have fought for my life a number of times in an oxygen tent. I have had life threatening asthma attacks. I work hard to stay controlled and regulated. I religiously take my medication, I exercise and stay fit. I take vitamins to counter the effect of steroids. I monitor my calcium intake. I avoid triggers and all of a sudden I have my worst nightmare in my house.

I basically have to fight really, really hard not to really, really panic.

The banker calls and asks me what I want to do.

And my response? Throw her out of the house and burn her possessions. Everything is a negotiation from that point onwards.

Yet I also have a completely rational side that says to myself. "Don't be an hysteric. Get the information. Think calmly. Breathe. The hospital wouldn't let her walk out of there if she was infectious."

The other side of me is still screaming and running in circles in utter panic.

Calm side googles TB.

Panicked side pulls my T-shirt up into a makeshift face mask and tries to hold my breath.

Calm side asks N how she is feeling and tells her to telephone home. Encourages her to talk to her family. Explains the situation to her boyfriend.

Panicked side of me sprays the phone with disinfectant before I use it.

Calm side gets out a highlighter and reads about Active and Latent TB.

Panicked side stocks up on N95 face masks and opens all the windows. Then sits in the car with the doors locked.

Sigh....

Its official!

The news is in. The Grand PooBah's of the bank have signed off and we are now being localised. All the toing and froiing of the last few month are finally resolved. It has been announced by the bank to all the staff and everyone has congratulated each other and patted everyone on the back.

And what an amazing process it has been.

We started talking about this in October 2006 and it is now June 2007. Eight months of huge uncertainty and utter stress.

Eight months of not knowing where we would be living.

Eight months of parallel lives.

We have invited lives in Thailand, Vietnam, India, Sydney, Brisbane, Hong Kong, Singapore, Manila, London and Paris. We have thought about Moscow, Prague and New York. We have discussed retirement, changes of career and walking away from everything to become waiters in Turkey on our own sailing boat.

The kids have been home schooled, sent to boarding school, public school and private schools. They have theoretically boarded in London, Paris, Thailand and Sydney. We have relocated to France and lived a self-sufficient lifestyle as restaurant owners.

I have worked as waitress in Turkey, a photographer in France and a Compliance Officer in the UK. I have returned to University as a Professor. I have gone into marketing, I have set up web sites and been an entrepreneur.

I have become an author.

And this process , regardless of the decisions made and the stress which it has created, has been incredibly enlightening as it has enabled us to really discuss what sort of life we want to live.

It has prompted a complete re-evaluation of goals, ideas, values and priorities.

We have reevaluated everything that is important to us as a family, as a couple, and as individuals.

And not many people really get a chance to do a complete overhaul of their lives every three years.

It's a good thing.

B+? ..... A good effort!

As mentioned previously in this blog, I have become a very keen amateur photographer. Actually a really annoying, incessant, obsessed and determined photographer. Most weeks I take around 500-800 photographs. Lots don't always work but many do. And, each time I take one, I think I learn something about how to make it a bit better. ISOs, apertures, shutter speeds, settings and lenses are all becoming increasingly familiar although still far from automatic.

Anyway I have decided to prepare a sort of year book for the kids - especially B - as he is leaving this year and I wanted him to have a sense of closure which is incredibly rare for expats as well as a lasting memento of his time at the school.

So I checked with the headmaster that it was ok to embark on this project. I called all the parents and asked them if they would mind if I took photos of their children. I took photos of all of the children in his class, and then emailed them to all the parents. I asked for feedback (just to be polite...what do I care what they think is the best photo - most of them have no idea and chose the worst photo out of them five to ten that I sent. If one was the slightest bit fuzzy, you can guarantee a parent chose it.)

Anyway I then loaded all the photos on a web page, found a company that could print them, did a dry print run, passed it around, redid the print run in alphabetical order and then had them bound in perfect binding.

Perfect bound books, shiny paper, glossy cover, title page and really cool graphics, head and shoulders photos of all the kids in their school uniforms. Nice background bokeh in all of them. All pimples airbrushed out.

I charged £20 per book and ended up donating almost half of this amount back to the school library as well as to the end of the year party. No one helped at any point. No one contributed anything. Most of the parents couldn't be bothered to answer emails or phone messages. For thirty children I sent over 250 emails cajoling responses and begging for replies.

And what do I get from one of the mothers? One of these unemployed, housewife mothers. Who wear cardigans from Boden and their mother's pearls to do the school run. And pale pink lipstick.... with blue eyeshadow?

"Oh yes, hello, I saw the book. Quite a good effort."

In this soft condescending voice.

A good effort?? Give me a break. This from the mother who said to me: "James would like his puppy included in the school photo. Can you arrange that?"

No. I can't. This is a book that I am doing for my son and I just happen to be giving you the opportunity to purchase on of your own. You are doing nothing to help this booklet get produced. Nothing constructive and this is the best that you can offer me by way of thanks? By way of the twelve photos I took of your son with a portrait lens? A condescending "quite a good effort"?

Give me a break . It was a feckin fantastic effort to inspire this by to smile. To airbrush out his pimples. To email her all these photos, to call her back cajoling her for a response, to not get annoyed when she said that he hated the photo and then be polite again when she took a photo on someone's mobile and wanted that included - of her son with a yellow curtain behind his head dissecting it in half.

"I haaaate the photos!! I look ugly in them."

Well you know what? Unless you are prepared to get off your butt and do something you have absolutely no right at all to complain about something that you could never have achieved.

It's always the ones who don't make the effort themselves who criticise others.

I really think though that criticising someone who achieves something is totally unfair unless you are prepared to do better yourself.

Put up or shut up.

There. That's off my chest now.

And I am off to school to pick up the kids and , unfortunately, probably see Mrs Quite Good.

Argh

In or not?

Tomorrow we find out how B has done in his exams - whether or not he has got high enough marks to gain entrance to the chosen boarding school. And even though I don't want him to leave and go away, I know that he desperately wants to go to this school.

He has tried really hard for these exams and has spent an awful lot of time studying. This is probably one of the first times that I have ever seen him really knuckle down and approach something with a specific goal in mind.

Z is normally the goal-focused one of the family, and these past few weeks it has been B who has sat down at the dining room table with his books, B who has asked questions about English and B who has queried how mathematics problems are solved.

He brought home one of his exam papers yesterday and he worked through it again in his own time and then asked the banker to double check it and the banker, being a banker of course, could do this. B did very well.

So tomorrow we find out, and my heart is just itching to know and really, really hoping for good news for him.

Although it will break my heart to send him away.

The mother's dilemma!

Sign Offs

We are getting sign -offs.

Finally!!

The Grand and OmnipotentPooBah of Money has approved the deal. Vice President of Banking Confusion has also approved it and The Global Head of Things the Bank does to Obfuscate and Delineate has just signed off.

It is just up to Chief Evangelist of Mission-Critical Portal Deployment to sign her name and we are in business.

I can't wait to see what the banker's title will be but I do think it needs to be something incorporating all of the words below at the very least!!

Lead Senior Direct Corporate Dynamic Future Product National Regional District Central Global Customer Investor Dynamic International Legacy Forward Internal Human Chief Principal

Solutions Program Brand Security Research Marketing Directives Implementation Integration Functionality Response Paradigm Tactics Identity Markets Group Division Applications Optimization Operations Infrastructure Intranet Communications Web Branding Quality Assurance Mobility Accounts Data Creative Configuration Accountability Interactions Factors Usability Metrics

Supervisor Associate Executive Liason Officer Manager Engineer Specialist Director Coordinator Administrator Architect Analyst Designer Planner Orchestrator Technician Developer Producer Consultant Assistant Facilitator Agent Representative Strategist