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On February 1, 2005 writes OLGA:
How we had moved.
The idea of our moving to another apartment and district had appeared long ago. But for a long time it was discussed just "in general", and I never believed that it could happen in real life. But it happened.
We used to live in a very nice district, not very far from the center of Moscow (20 min. only by metro), the district was rather old (late Stalin times – early Khruschev, 50es-60es of the 20 century) and with a wonderful very old park just across the metro rails from us. The park was known since the times of Peter the Great. And we would never move out of there if we didn't live on the 5 floor of a building with no elevator. So it was getting harder and harder to go upstairs - and not only for me ( since for me it'd be impossible anyway) but for my aging parents...
This district is expected to be reconstructed - and at first we were going to wait until it happens. But recently one of the Central newspapers has published the reconstruction plan for 2006 - and the reconstruction plan finished right one street next to us! So after that we came to the final decision.
And my mother started looking for the options. We had ontacted a real estate agency and soon the purchasers of our apartment were found. That was a family of a new businessman - the husband was a vodka profiteer and the wife was a manager in one of the semi-American firms. She was expecting a child, and they wanted to buy an appartment before the child would appear.
Soon an option for us was found. Of course that place was smaller than what we had, 2 rooms only, but it was on the ground floor, it was near the park also, and it was located in a district where many of my friends live. One of them lives just across the street. And we'd get a significant money benefit. So it seemed everything was fine but...
Although the documents were signed, people living in our new apartment were not going to move before the repair of THEIR new apartment would be over. They just didn't answer their phone for a while. And we were pressed by our the buyer of our appartment, but there was no place to go to! This vodka profiteer came offering some absolutely criminal ways of conflict solving. So we 'd got VERY nervous, my mother especially.
In the meanwhile we were packing the things up - and could you imagine how many things we had, that were of good-quality, but have not been used for years - and they all were connected with memories, emotions, - all these things we had to throw away... Of course that action didn't improve our psychological state.
The same thing was about our library - we had piles of books - and they used to be really worthy ones. In Soviet times it was a big problem to find a book which was good indeed. So they were collected "one by one", each one had its story like - "...Oh, that book I've brought from Bulgaria ( or from Leningrad or so)". And now we have to distribute them for nothing just to avoid them being thrown away.
There were enough problems but they are over now. As we were loading into the car I gave a look at our yard, full of old trees surrounding old broken swing that I rode when I was a kid. And I got suddenly full of memories - there were so many of them! those from my childhood I have almost forgotten, but almost all romantic stories of my youth had happened here too. Wow, the first story was a real curse, i'm still regretting about it. Actually they all were... A curse, I mean. But anyway it was sad to say "good bye" to these memories. But they are almost over, because now all our luggage is it be unpacked. So there are two days now we were engrossed in it. And since our medicine chest was packed too - and it's still unfound. Mother is feeling very bad, because she needs her drugs.
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On February 7, 2005 writes DAVID:
Hi Ira,
Rendt asked me if I could write something very short for your web site.
I am a friend of Rendt's who lives up the road from him on Great Barrier Island in New Zealand for a good part of the year. I split my year between Great Barrier Island and Tokyo.
Rendt showed me a few pages that Olga had written about her life and it came up that she needed help. I decided to give a bit of financial help because talking to Rendt there is a chance that with some outside help her life may be greatly improved. Without help she does not have much hope.
This may sound silly, but the idea of giving her a bit of a helping hand, may help her to get better and she may then be able to help someone else. Her knowledge of marine environments etc may also be put to good use, rather than being wasted. This is what helping someone is really about, I believe: By passing along a little of what we have to others, that feeling of being willing to help someone else may spread.
I know that if I was in the same position I would be very happy if someone helped me!
Kind
regards,
David
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On March 5, 2005 writes RENDT:
Olga and Artemiy returned from Berlin but have still kept busy. After moving apartment to a location where Olga will have better amenities and in particular will get more opportunitiy to leave the house, the family has been settling into the new home. But this week Olga is in hospital again in Moscow, where some critical surgery will be made on her hand. This will not only give Olga improved dexterity but will also be crucial for working wth crutches and attaining more mobility, so the thearapists in Berlin stressed.
A visit to Crimea will follow for further physio-therapy. Meanwhile Heide arrived in New Zealand and it has been great to hear the stories of Olga's visit to Berlin. It was encouraging to hear of all the effort that was put in by all those that contributed to make the visit a success. And also Artemiy put in a lot of energy to make this trip happen. Last but not least, Olga made many new friends, that will want to hear about the efforts Olga is making to overcome the physical constraints.
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On March 15, 2005 writes OLGA:
My seventh surgery is over. (It's more than a week now, by the way.) The surgery was done the first day I was placed into the clinic. I had a special narcosis, the kind that is very close to the local anesthesia. So I didn't sleep, but felt no pain.
Now my poor operated palm is still covered with special plaster bandage. A lot of steel spikes are inserted into it (they are supposed to correct my fingers' positions). There are so many of those steel spikes, that the palm looks like a little swollen bronze-pink hedgehog. And it's all covered by Iodine solution.
The physicians are content with its result. So I should be too. The room I am in is small, but clean, with two beds and a bathroom next to it (but the bathroom doesn't have any hot water). A big wall-wide window is facing the outside edge of a garden and a remote forest. Everything is covered by snow - it's still freezing, like in Europe. My neighbor is a rather nice aged woman with foot vascular problems. She is receiving her laser therapy now. There is a TV-set is in the main lobby on our floor, and sometimes I watch it.
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