- 3/4/2008 10:00:00 PMMoscow Trip - Day 23Today is "D" day. The day we depart Russia. In short, we are ready to go home. I set the alarm for 7:00 AM. When it went off, I just wanted to spend a few moments laying there quietly - trying to take a final conscious note of my surroundings to that I would remember everything as clear as possible in the days to come.
I showered up and then went to the table for breakfast. Dima was supposed to pick us up at 9:00 and we didn't have too much time to sit and chat. I was thankful for that. It would be better than waiting all day to leave. We asked Marina to help us give Michael some final instructions in Russian before we left
- When we get to the airport we must hurry hurry hurry or we'll miss our flight
- Do not talk to anyone.
Michael is a jabber-box and loves to talk. He also likes to tell stories (that aren't necessarily true). We just don't know what he is saying. He indicated that he understood and would comply.
Dima arrived and we were not entirely ready. He had told us some days ago about "the best honey in the world". It comes from the Ural mountains and he said he would bring us some. Today, he brought us a small plastic container filled with it. That was a nice gift and I looked forward to tasting the best of the best. Peggy had some last minute things to do and then we headed out at 9:30. Michael was already beginning to show signs of being a pokey-butt and I suspected it was going to be a long day.
As we drove out of Moscow, you could see the thickness of the city begin to dissipate. The road got wider, the traffic got thinner. You could see more of the area around you. In about a half hour or so, we arrived at Sherimetyevo International Airport. Dima parked in a handicap parking spot. We told him about it and he said, "it's ok". I responded, "ok whatever. You're the one that will get a ticket".
We got out of the van and Mr. Pokey-pants (Michael) was in full slow mode. Dima and Peggy carried or pulled most of the luggage. I had one of the bags and pulled Michael to the airport. He started to cry lightly. His eyes were watering and he was whimpering. He walks stiff legged as if he has no joints in his legs. All of his bending is done at his hips. When I pull him, he bends forward at his waste and keeps his legs stiff and straight. The weight of his torso is all forward of his body and he pulls down on my hand. He just will not move. He makes no attempt to bend his knees. The more I pulled, the more his face twisted. This was the first time I began to think of having to care for him when I am an elderly man. Will this get better or worse? I decided not to think about it and just do what needs to be done - get home.
I paid Dima, and said good bye. He has lots of other driving to do today. Another family is headed out for Cheboksary on the train and he will have to tend to their needs. We got in line, huffing and puffing from the work of getting there. I was hoping there would be no problems and we would have to call Dima back or contact Marina. I think Peggy was concerned that the baggage checkers would unpack all of our things and we'd have to repack them. We are bringing a lot of stuff home and it has to be packed correctly otherwise it won't fit. I was also worried about the quart sized container of honey in the suit case. Would they seize that? Would it open up in the suit case? Yuck!
I had spoken with Bill some days ago about his wife's visit at the passport check in. It seems they gave her a hard time. Bill had brought up an interesting question that he did not get a good answer to. Here it is:
If we applied for a "tourist" visa to get in here and we are leaving with an extra person that we adopted and the passport control people ask us, "what's with that?" - what should we tell them? I was a little worried.
When it was our turn at the front of the line, we were never asked any such question. The inspector asked Michael a few questions and warned us not to pick up any liquids from the duty free shops. Then he directed us to the baggage checker. He was an elderly man with a red sport jacket. He very carefully and slowly opened our suit cases and peered inside. He didn't move much around but pushed his hands into and out of the clothing. He looked at the plastic bags of liquids we had and verified the ounces of each container. Zip Zip - he closed up the luggage and put an inspection sticker on them and we were on our way to the Delta check in.
The Delta counter person checked in our luggage and printed out all of our tickets for all of the flights. When they were done, they sent us on to passport control. We approached the counter and got into an available line. I went first and tossed my passport onto the counter. The female passport agent took my little passport book and mumbled something back to me. I said, "what?". In her best English she shouted back to me, "BOARDING PASS". By this time, Peggy and Michael had gotten into another line. Peggy had all of our tickets. I called her back to my line and she gave me my boarding pass. I handed it to the agent and she stamped it. Ka-Chunk! Ka-Chunk! The gate opened and I was done. Peggy and Michael went to the counter and the agent shouted at Peggy. While Peggy and I are American, Michael is not. Our passports are blue and his is red. The agent wanted the court, immigration and consular paperwork to go along with Michael's passport. Ka-Chunk! Ka-Chunk!. Everything was good to go and we were on our way.
The first thing we saw after the final passport control was all the alcoholic liquids you could buy at the duty-free shops - the very places they warned us not to buy anything from. You cannot help but walk past them to get to your gate. All along the way, people are smoking and blowing their blue smoky air into the corridor. We slowly made our way to our gate. Not only were we walking slow because Michael refused to walk any faster, he was looking at every item in the window of each store. "Come on. Come on", I called to him. Tug, tug, pull, pull.
We arrived at our gate and found there was another metal detector to get in. It looked like once you got in, you were going to be there for a while so we decided to make a bathroom stop before going in. We walked slowly back to the edge of smoky town, went potty, and then came back to our gate. When we entered, they opened and inspected our carry-on luggage. They were very careful and repacked everything very gently.
Initially we thought we were going to have to wait a while. Our flight was scheduled to leave at 1:00 PM and by now it was around 11-something. The time passed quickly. Michael's ticket said that he would be boarding in "Zone 6" and Peggy and my ticket said "Zone 7". From our previous experience we knew that being the last people to board the plane is a bad thing. All of the good overhead compartments are taken and you may have to stow your luggage in a location that is far from you. We decided to board when they called for Michael's zone. As it turns out, that was a very good thing. We boarded way ahead of many people and got on the plane easily.
I began to speak to Michael and look out the window.
I said, "bye bye Moscow".
He said, "bye bye Moscow".
I said, "bye bye Russia".
He said, "bye bye Russia".
I said, "bye bye Marina".
He said, "bye bye Marina".
I said, "bye bye Deskie Dom". (which is the Russian word for orphanage)
He said, "NO! bye bye Deskie Dom".
I didn't understand that. Perhaps he didn't want to say "good bye" to his friends and memories. Peggy asked me to stop doing this. We sat quietly until the plane took off. Many of the flight attendants had southern accents. This is the first time I began to feel like we were really going home.
I studied the people around us. There was an elderly couple in front of us. The man had all gold teeth and the woman had a few on her lower jaw. In front of them was a bigger, middle age Russian man who liked to drink a lot, read the paper by holding it up high and blocking the movie from everyone that sat behind him. He also liked to talk to the person right behind Peggy's chair while leaning on the head-rest of Peggy's chair. There were also some American people on the plane who congratulated us on our adoption. It seems there were a few crying babies too. This is one good time for you to be slightly deaf due to air pressure.
Both Peggy and I noted that the rest rooms on the plane were clean when we boarded. As the flight progressed, they became disgusting. Much like the public rest rooms we had seen in Moscow, there was urine all over the toilet seat and a deep puddle on the floor. Other people had left their garbage in the restroom. It was on the counter and soaking on the floor.
The flight was 12 hours long. We had a nice lunch of chicken breast with rice and carrots. Michael began to complain that the chicken made his stomach hurt. He didn't want to eat his carrots and wanted juice every time the stewardess came around. The last thing I wanted was to have a food battle on the plane. I cut his chicken in half and ate it thinking he would appreciate it. Wrong. We took his desert away and he acted like it was ok since the chicken had brought him near the brink of death anyway.
Later in the flight, they served ice cream in a cup. When he visited our home for 10 days last March, that was one thing he refused to eat and it surprised us. Here he was, one year later, eating ice cream as if he always loved it. If there is one thing I have noticed about Michael, is that there is a direct correlation between his likes and dislikes and how he feels at the moment.
We continued the flight taking a more northerly route home. From the flight path they displayed on the movie screen, we passed over the earth north of Iceland and right through the middle of Greenland. Then straight down over Detroit and on to Atlanta. Near the end of the flight, they served us toasted cheese sandwiches. Michael said to me, "Yuri please no". I took that to mean he just could not put up with any pressure from me to eat this disgusting sandwich. I - on the other hand found the sandwich to be particularly fulfilling both physically and emotionally. It was a taste of how things are done in America. Big sandwich with lots of cheese. Yummy! I didn't make him eat any of his food and secretly coveted his sandwich. "I'll eat that later", I thought to myself.
For the last few hours of the flight, Michael became sleepy but didn't want to put his head down. We kept telling him to sleep but I think he wanted to stay awake for the whole thing. In the end, it was too much and he fell asleep. As we approached the runway in Atlanta, we woke him up. He looked out the window and at the moment the wheels hit the ground, we patted him on the back and said, "Michael - American Boy". "Yes. Yes", he said with a sleepy smile on his face.
When it was time to de-board the plane, he went back to his whiny, pokey-butt, slow mode and began to cry. "Just a minute", he would say and then sit back down and not move. The passengers behind us were trying to get off the plane and we were holding them all up. I picked him up under his arms and he lifted his legs just like an infant does. Here he was, 70 pounds with his legs curled up under him refusing to put them down and support his own weight. My lower back began to hurt. We had to go very far and very fast to make our next flight.
I set him down and said, "go, come on, move" and all the combinations I could think of to get him to react. Once we got off the plane, I resumed pulling him by his hand. "Dad... please...", he would cry out to me. I would call back to him, "LETS GO!". It was more of the same. Him not bending his knees and leaning forward at the waste and putting a lot of downward pressure on my arm. I pulled him hard to the point where he was off balance. We had no choice other than to miss our flight.
Fortunately for us, as we entered the airport we discovered they had moving sidewalks. That was a blessing. They would go for a hundred yards or so and then you would have to get off and walk some more. I pulled and pulled. Off to the side, I saw some wheel chairs. I told Peggy, "the next time we pass some of them, I'm going to grab one and put him in. We can't waste any more time". We walked over to the chairs and Michael refused to get in. That made me very angry! We went back to pulling.
We finally made it to the US Passport services and got in line. Finally it was a chance to stand and not have to walk quickly. The line moved forward at a good pace and it was not long before we were hustling again to pick up our luggage from customs. More pulling. We got a cart for our stuff and I put Michael in the basket. We went to the line we were directed to go to carrying our passports and the court and immigration decrees in the sealed envelope given to us by the US Embassy in Moscow. Then we were directed to go to "Desk #3" and hand our paperwork to one of the four men standing there. We gave them our paperwork and were told to sit down and wait. Then everyone from Desk #3 left and went on break.
There we were, in a large waiting area with 20 or so other people, watching the clock and watching our unattended envelope sit on the counter. About 45 minutes went by and an immigration officer from Desk #2 came by and picked up our paperwork. He came up to us and said, "If I had known it was this kind, I would have done yours first". All we had to do was give him the envelope from the Embassy and let him look at my passport and we were on our way. I put Michael back into the cart and off we went - angry - but moving at a decent pace.
We rechecked our luggage and then headed for our gate. The tickets said gate "C7" which meant we would have to take the underground rail to get there. Peggy said, "I want to check the monitor before we do anything". That was a good thing. As it turns out, they changed the gate and we were already in the correct wing, we just had to get to gate #35. Up the escalators and pulling Michael along, we hustled as fast as we could.
Moving back down the ramp we boarded the plane for the second leg of the journey home. By this time, I was hot, sweaty and tired. It was late and we already had a very long day. The flight from Atlanta to Detroit was only 90 minutes. Detroit was having a snow storm and they were expecting 4 inches of snow. Michael was very drowsy now and he quickly fell asleep on the plane. I fell asleep shortly after.
When we landed, it was again - more of the same. Michael didn't want to move and would only say, "just a minute" and then refuse to move. I picked him up and put him into the aisle. "Go. Move. Come on."
Detroit has a large airport and we had a long way to walk. Over the airport speakers they announced that if you didn't check into your gate at least 20 minutes before your flight, your seat was subject to reassignment to someone else. That is the last thing I needed, more pressure to move faster. I carried him on my back as far and as fast as I could and then I had to set him down and go back to pulling. Thankfully the airport was mostly empty. It would have been very embarrassing to be seen trying to get him to move.
We got to our gate just in time and boarded right away. I sat down and sweat was coming out of every pore on my body. I'm sure it was a real treat for the person sitting next to me. After about 15 minutes, they announced that there would be a 20 minute delay while we waited for some other passengers. It was the Bayport High school Girls Dance Team. They boarded carrying 8 very large trophies. By the time they were all on, we missed our order in the take off sequence. It would be another hour before we would actually take off.
The flight to Green Bay was only 50 minutes and we arrived around 12:45 AM. With the big travel behind us, I decided that my pushing and pulling of him was over for the night. We could continue from the plane to our waiting family at any pace necessary. In the end, I put him on my back again. Michael said in my ear, "Papa good. Yuri no". I knew he appreciated me carrying him. We walked slowly through Austin Strauble airport and came to our waiting family.
Gladys and Earl Gussek
Sharon Long
Aunt Vivian, Courtney, Bethany, Andrew
Grandma Carol, Emily, Megan, James and Ellie
Mrs. Wagner and her two girls Tanya and Anya were there earlier in the evening too. The girls advised our children on the correct spelling of a welcome home sign.
What a relief it was to be home and to have family and friends there to welcome us. We were tired, they were tired. There was so much to tell. It would have to wait until after we got home. After collecting our baggage and chatting a short while, we arrived at our house around 2:00 AM Wednesday March 5th - 29 hours after we left Moscow.
The children had baked a cake and decorated the house. They fitted our bed with new clean sheets. We sat and talked and hugged. Michael was glad the trip was over and seemed to move around the house without much pain or effort. He did not complain. Around 3:00 AM we made some mac-&-cheese with some nice ice-cold milk. He ate and said, "Yuri good!". I showered and we all went to bed around 4:00 am.
I am writing this journal entry a little over 24 hours later. Today, our house is getting back together, we are getting rest and recovering. Michael is outside riding a snowboard down the hill with Ellie. We are reducing his medication and he is moving around the house (including up the stairs) very well. Not at all like he did in Moscow or through the airports on the way home. What a difference home can make.
This was the journey of a lifetime but it was not just our own. It started just a little over one year ago. We've met many new people, established friendships and grew in our faith. We have all come a long, long way and we want to give a big "Thanks" to everyone who joined us, supported us and helped make this possible. Thank you for putting your hand to the plow of the Lord's work and not looking back.
