In three days I’m flying back to the US for the first time since late May 2009. I know I said that there was nothing wrong with my knee, but that’s only because I was told there was nothing wrong with my knee. But after my MRI results were sent to PC Headquarters, the sleuths there found a rip in the old meniscus and have ordered me to Washington, D.C., for surgery. I found out only a couple of days ago, and since then I’ve pretty much been walking in circles mumbling, “oh lord oh jesus”, while ideas of what I should be doing fly around me like falling cards.
No matter. Surgery’s a comin’. No helping that. But you know what else is comin’:
Because I’m an expat plus I tend to have more cravings that a pregnant lady (see list recorded in my journal since I arrived). I am going to eat so many, many good things. Like donut holes. And tamales (tell me they have those in D.C.). And I’m going to order pizza!
And if that wasn’t enough, I have some amazing friends to visit. And if that weren’t enough some members of my family, upon hearing the news, immediately started formulating plans to come visit. And if that weren’t enough, another PCV in Armenia broke her leg in three places and thus will be traveling with me (sorry about the leg of course but happy for the company!). And if that weren’t enough THERE MAY BE A LADY GAGA CONCERT IN THE WORKS.
The whole whirlwind of it came over me last night around 3am, and I couldn’t sleep. Right now I’m in a tiny town in Northern Armenia. In a very unexpected short amount of time, I will be gawking at paved roads and super stocked supermarket shelves and new buildings and listening to all those English voices all around me. I’ll be hugging my Armenian friends and then screaming and hugging my American people.
I’m not sure I’m fully prepared. But best believe this is some pretty good story fodder. Stay tuned.