Tuesday, October 20, 1998

I awake before Edward wakes me, and I have glue in my eyes. I am a mess! I have kicked off all my covers in the night. I am sweaty hot. I must have a high fever. I feel absolutely lousy, the worst yet! I am achy all over. Maybe I slept two hours. Edward leaves, I shower, but I am moving very slowly today. I know the infection is getting worse. What can I do?

Valentina looks at me with new concern, and puts out smaller food portions for me. I stare at my plate with cabbage, squash, garbanzo beans, and sausage hot dog. It is all I can do to eat today; all I can do to swallow.

I get up to leave, and Valentina tells me to take my umbrella. She is right! It is coming down hard this morning. It must have rained all night by the looks of the standing water. It is cold and very windy too as a new cold front approaches. I bundle myself as tightly as I can against the elements, but it does not seem to do much good. I can barely walk. I am very ill and sinking fast.

Morning at School

I make it to school late, around 8: 50 am, and go to Edward’s room as usual, and there are three German citizens sitting there – two students and their bus driver. They are in town for a Baptist church meeting! It is Edward’s German class, and they are there to have students ask them questions about Germany. I sit in the back and act like I am not going to die on the spot.

We have some coffee after class. Edward has a little coffee maker in his room. I hold the cup, savor its fragrance, and try to will its warmth to drive my pain away. Edward suggests I go to see the PE classes. So I drag myself over there, say good morning to all the third graders, and they still want my autograph!

Then one of the PE teachers, Oleg, invites me to play billiards with him. It is a homemade table with homemade cues. We play real billiards, not pool. There are no numbered balls, and a pocket is just barely larger than the ball. The cushions have no spring, so it is really dead aim play. I wind up winning 8-7 – I think he let me win.

Oleg and I have a good visit. It turns out that he has an identical twin brother (just like my boys Tim and Matt!), and his wife also teaches PE classes at the school. He says he has a relative in Maryland. His English is really pretty good. I appreciate the time with him and give him one of my silver coins.

I leave Oleg and run into Lyudmila. She presents me with a natural Ukraine pine cone and one decorated with roses. She states it’s a special Ukraine tradition to decorate cones this way. I thank her. She has been very nice and friendly to me, and my steadfast lunch buddy. I decide to give her my Arizona native stone bracelet, one of my nicest gifts.

I head back to Edward’s room, but Nina, the English teacher spies me, and wants me to go to her ninth grade English class. I accept, and just as we are getting into photos and maps of Phoenix, Edward appears and says that the monastery trip is cancelled due to the bad weather. I am disappointed, but at the same time, relieved that I do not have to cope with an outdoor excursion today. Instead, Edward says that Kamila has arranged for a car to take me to the town’s newspaper office for a farewell interview.

The News Room

The car drops us off at the main government building, called the “white house.” We go up four flights of stairs, and I can barely put one foot in front of the other. I know I have a fever; I feel clammy now. We go down a hallway and enter the newsroom. It has four computer terminals linked to the Internet. Then, most incredible of all, they show me tomorrow’s front page mockup. Covering half the front page is a story about me and my family, complete with four old photos of the kids and Kathy and me. Somehow they got these photos.

Then the newspaper reporter, whose views of America had changed after visiting with me, leads us to her office for a reception of chocolate, presents, and the obligatory cognac toasts. Her editors join us. I don’t want or need any drinks, but I have no real choice. We do a toast, and I lead as usual. I present them with UA 75^th Anniversary pins and silver coins. So far, I am managing my gifts pretty well, and I have a good supply left for Edward, Valentina, and the Kyiv group.

Then the reception takes a more serious turn. They want me to get them information about Ukrainians in the United States. They know about Canada’s large group, but not much about the US. They want to know what good ideas I will take back to US about their schools. I answer I will take high regard for their collegiality, their love of cultural heritage, and their creative educational scheduling. They ask about Arizona newspapers, and are amazed when I tell them that The Arizona Republic is scores of pages long. Theirs is usually only a few pages.

Finally they ask me a tough question. What negative did I notice the most about my visit so far? I think a long time before I answer. I finally tell them that their town is like going back in time when the US was in the 1930s – poor infrastructure, Great Depression-like shortages, and poor salaries (even the editors tell me that they have not been paid since March). But I end on a positive note – that the older generation always seems to have to sacrifice for the young. I tell them I see it here, and if such conditions existed in US, I tell them that most teachers would probably keep teaching too, even if not paid, because they are dedicated to help the kids! We end on that note, with heads nodding in agreement all around the room.

Get to the Doctor!

It’s time to leave, and we say our goodbyes. We drive back and stop at the Lesya Ukrainka Museum for me to get the gifts that Vera wants me to take to Olga who lives in Scottsdale. We arrive back at School #11, and Lyudmila is waiting to take me to lunch. By now, everyone is realizing I am REALLY sick! Lyudmila cuts my lunch portions in half.

She takes me back to Edward’s room. Kamila and Edward have decided I need to go to a doctor at the clinic. A masseuse there who is a friend of Edward can get me a fast appointment, he says. So off we go, in another pouring rain. I ask Edward to please go slowly, and he accommodates my request. I have seen more rain here in two weeks than I do in Phoenix in two years! A hard cold wind is blowing again, so hard that we have a hard time steadying our umbrellas.

The clinic is about a mile away from the school. I struggle to keep moving. Oxana, the masseuse, greets us at the door of 1950s age building. We shed our shoes for slippers, and she takes me to see the doctor. She listens to my chest, takes my blood pressure, and asks about my complaints, with Edward doing the translating. I tell her I have been feeling badly since last weekend, and think I have infections in my ears, throat, and chest.

Strange Practices

The doctor orders Oxana to take me to a back office, where she vigorously rubs down my back and chest, and pushes on me till I cry out. She tells me that only one of my back bones is in its correct position, and that I should return ten more times to get it fixed. I tell her thanks, but I am traveling to Kyiv on Friday for return to USA on Saturday. So she says, “OK, come back Wednesday and Thursday, and I will help you as best I can.”

I think I am done, but no, they take me to another room and conduct strange practices on me. First, I sit in front of two rubber-looking pads the size of silver dollars on the ends of rods sticking out of wooden box. The doctor places the pads about a half inch from my cheeks for fifteen minutes and tells me not to move. I feel nothing happening, but she tells me that this device is warming up my sinuses. It must be some kind of electromagnetic device.

Second, she tells me to take my shirt off, lays me down on a table, and covers me from the waist up with towels. She swings a powerful heat lamp over me, and soon I am breathing the intense heat of a sizzling Arizona summer day. I do this on my front and back.

Third, they take me to another room and have me breathe hot air from a machine - in and out each nostril and mouth. My right nostril is so plugged, I can’t do it at all. What fascinates me the most is that I breathe through a rolled up tube of paper.

I cannot feel any change in me, but they want me to return for two more days of similar treatment. They prescribe no medicine, but tell me I need to drink very hot honey milk when I get back to Edward’s flat, put spirits on my chest, put my feet in a hot pail of water, and then drink hot honeyed beer before I go to bed.

Ostapuk Surname News

It is the doctor who asks me about my surname. Earlier in my visit, Edward had shown me the town’s phone book in the editor’s office, and there were 47 “Ostapchuks” listed. He is still convinced that my name is a shortened version of this surname. But the doctor now refutes this theory. She says that she grew up in a small village near Kovel, northwest of Novograd-Volynsky, and about 90 miles east of Lublin on the Ukraine side of the border. She says that this village and region has many families with the “Ostapuk” surname, and is, in fact, a somewhat common name in the area. She says that Lublin before World War I was definitely part of the Russian Empire, and before that the Polish Empire, and was the main city for Ostapuk and other names in the vicinity.

This is very exciting news for me! For the first time, this is the closest to pinpointing the exact area of the northwest corner of Ukraine region that still has Ostapuk surnames today. This area also coincides with the village type that Constantin showed me at the outdoor museum. The doctor also tells me that she personally knows of Ostapuk families who immigrated to Canada, and I should investigate those families to see if somehow I am related.

Home Remedies

I thank her profusely and get dressed. Edward and I walk home through the driving cold rain. Edward acts really concerned for my health after this visit. He explains the doctor’s orders to his mom, and she too now realizes how seriously ill I am. Edward leaves to buy honey at the nearest store, but it has none. While he is gone, Valentina decides to take my temperature under my left arm pit. It reads 102.5. She leaves to see if a neighbor might have a honey jar. Edward prepares some hot borscht and lemon slices for me to eat. Valentina returns with a jar of honey, and prepares a steaming cup of hot milk and honey. I drink it eagerly, desperate for any kind of relief.

I take some of my own meds too, put on extra layers of clothes, sit down, and attempt to catch up on the past two days of my journal – even though I am ill. I am now writing in real time for the first time in a week. Edward is giving his twice weekly English tutor lessons to his female student. His mom is watching TV like she does every night, this time from the small set on the fridge. They receive four channels on three sets in three rooms in Russian, Ukrainian, and some Polish.

Edward comes and shows me a new map based on what the doctor has told us about my last name. He shows me the region of Volhynia, the Volhyn oblast, and the main cities in the region, Kovel and Lutsk. He points to the map and circles with his finger an area that he thinks Ostapuk families probably still reside based on what the doctor told us.

Gentle Reminder That My Time Is Ending

Then the phone rings. It is Marina in Kyiv and she is calling about the Friday return schedule. It seems we will leave on the early Friday morning bus, check into a new hotel in the historic district of Kyiv, and go to ACCELS headquarters by 4: 00 pm where there will be a dinner reception around 6: 00 pm. Edward will miss the reception because his return bus leaves at 5: 30 pm. So I will be saying my goodbye to him at ACCELS.

I can’t believe I am writing about leaving Ukraine already, and soon will be saying goodbye to everyone. (This reminds me. I tell the classes I visit, “Bye, Bye” and the students always laugh. When I ask Edward why they laugh, he tells me that “bye, bye” in Ukraine means “night, night” when parents put little ones to bed. So the joke has been on me all along! ”)

The time has gone by very quickly, mainly because it’s been a whirlwind of events and activities. If I had not kept this detailed journal, it would be a total blur for me right now. Tomorrow will be a fairly low key day at School #11, Edward says. Thursday will be a farewell party with Edward’s Advanced International Studies class, and a farewell reception with the English teachers.

I have so many great memories to take with me! I hope I have also left good memories with them. It’s kind of like the pebble that is thrown into the pond. You never know where the ripples will travel, when they will end. Edward says that he hopes to get his computer somehow from Kyiv in a few months, and then get Internet, so we can communicate once I return to the United States. I also plan to take back home his students’ responses to my students’ pen pal letters, so maybe that connection will last too. I also realize how much I miss my own family, my own bed, and my own routine. The stuff I used to take for granted in America, I don’t think I will any time soon!

Edward’s tutor student leaves, and he and his mom come and check on me. Valentina takes my temperature again, and it has dropped a half degree. They want to know if I want any more food, and for some reason, I want an apple.

Parting Intimate Conversation

They both sit down next to me while I eat the apple, but it upsets my stomach. I tell them how much I appreciate Valentina giving up her room for two weeks, and Edward for sleeping on the cot in the kitchen. We have a rather random conversation. I ask if the crystal and china I see in the cabinets are family heirlooms, and Valentina says, “No, all was lost in World War II.” I ask Edward what has been happening in world news, and he says that there seems to be a revolution going on in Georgia, and that Monica Lewinsky has gone into hiding from the sex scandal with President Clinton.

The conversation drifts back to World War II. I ask Valentina is she remembers any of it. She says she was born in 1939, and was two years old when Hitler decided to invade the Soviet Union in 1941. She says she does not remember any battles, but does remember some of the effects. She remembers an uncle who fought in the Polish army vs. the Nazis. She remembers digging for frozen potatoes in the ground during winter, and eating flies she trapped against her window to survive.

She leaves and Edward brings out some old family photos of his mom, his granny’s funeral, and many other relatives. Then Edward does a remarkable thing. He goes to the wall and from a compartment pulls out all his old Communist artifacts, medals, etc from the 1980s. He tells me random memories, such as marching at midnight to enforce curfew in town. He shows me his mom’s two awards from the Supreme Soviet back in the 1970s. Turns out, his mom was a city hero, and won an award for military construction, including the apartment tower they live in!

His thoughts are mixed about those times. He speaks with contempt about Lenin and Stalin, but also admits that he received leadership training that has stood him in good stead today. He tells me that now that Ukraine has achieved its independence and Ukrainian language is no longer banned, people should stop speaking Russian so much. He is also offended that his Polish heritage is not more respected. He reminds me of the banner we saw stretched across the mall in Lviv near the Opera House which read: “Lviv – Was, Is Now, and Always Will Be Ukraine! ” and how Edward spoke with bitterness when he told me, “How quickly they forget that Lviv was the Polish southern capital for 400 years! ”

Edward plays the role of my dead father tonight. He sits with me, comforts me, shares time with me, reveals himself to me, and brings me hot water in a pail, and hot beer and honey to drink (ugh!). Then more hot milk and honey again, this time with some soda – what a weird taste!

By now I am sleepy and ready for bed. We say our good nights. I read some of Lesya Ukrainka’s poems, and curl up under the comforter. Sometime in the night my fever breaks, and I wake soaking wet. I drift back to sleep, thinking that the home remedies must be working.