I had two choices; either to be medically separated to my home of record, or to go on a second medical evacuation to Washington D.C. (as I had done a couple of months earlier in April). I chose the latter option because I believed at the time that doing so would ensure a greater likelihood of being able to return and complete my Peace Corps service in December.
I didn�t know it at the time, although deep down I may have suspected that wasn�t to be. I went into a frantic mode of packing, collecting souvenirs, making phone calls, taking pictures, crying by myself and smiling to everyone else. I spent every waking (and sleeping) moment with Nikola who took care of my in my darkest hours of need and illness. I spent amazing times with a lot of Macedonians who meant so much to me, just doing the regular Macedonian things like sitting around drinking tea and coffee that we always did there in Pehcevo. They said to me, you will return, may you return to us.
I left Pehcevo on the morning of July 6th, 2004. Boris came to get me in one of the Peace Corps vehicles and as I was all loaded up, saying goodbye to Nikola, I heard that I had two letters at the post office (approximately 12 feet away). The letters had arrived right in the nick of time! I spent almost the whole day at the Peace Corps office doing paperwork and taking an inventory of the luggage I was leaving behind to be shipped in case my second medical evacuation turned into a medical separation. (I could only bring with me two checked bags, two carry-ons, and my purse. I packed one giant extra suitcase with winter clothes and extraneous items and left it in the Peace Corps office, under Nenad�s desk.)
This medical evacuation was different than the first one. I was sicker, it felt more serious, and everything in my apartment was packed and/or given away, down to the last bar of soap and book of matches. The first one was more like, I am just going to go over to Washington D.C., find out everything is all right, and then go shopping to bring things that aren�t available in Macedonia back here. I ended my first medical evacuation with new medicine, feeling fine, and excited about coming back to Macedonia. I don�t know what I would have done this time had it not been for Nikola to take care of me and help me deal with my situation. I reluctantly called my mom and cancelled our trip for her to come to Macedonia, which was only three days away. My disappointment was so bitter that I couldn�t even say it aloud.
The evening of the 6th I met up with some friends and other PCVs in Skopje and had some dinner out. I received lots of wonderful gifts which I made room for in my carry-on somehow, and that night I barely slept at all. I was at Kim�s and Magdelena was there, and Hank and Matt showed up late to visit having just returned from Serbia. I could feel the love and support from everyone surrounding me. I woke around 4:30 in the morning, showered for the last time of many in Kim�s apartment, and left without waking anyone to say goodbye. Boris, again, was downstairs waiting to drive me to the airport.
I sat in the airport lounge in the Skopje �International� Airport and stared at the wall, fighting back tears, until I realized that I almost missed my flight. For some reason, in my weak and dazed condition, I had thought it would be OK to board the plane less than 10 minutes before it was due to take off. ?! My confusion was made all the more absurd by the fact that the room is very small and only has two doorways, in which passengers are checked and then walk outside across the pavement and up the lowered ramp of stairs to board their plane.
I approached the doorway and a frantic flight attendant asked me if I was Lisa Cooper. I looked at her in surprise and was ushered onto a tram which drove me out 100 yards or so to where the plane had already driven and parked, pointed towards the short runway. I boarded the plane sheepishly, wishing everyone didn�t know I was the last person on board.
We flew to Vienna, Austria, where I should have had a few hours, but judging from the length of the line going through security I decided to get into it immediately. I stood like an obedient little robot, trying to hide the pain I was in, and by the time I boarded the plane with everyone else it was indeed time to go. We were delayed for more than a half hour (for no apparent reason) and then took off for Washington D.C.�s Dulles Airport. I was placed next to an extremely large woman even though I had instructed the Peace Corps staff who had booked my flight that I needed an aisle seat for continual trips to the restroom. I moved after take-off, and sat in an aisle seat, and promptly fell asleep for the 9+ hour flight. I think my seatmate was surprised that I went to the bathroom approximately 20+ times during the flight.
Little did I know that weather was bad at Dulles. Upon awaking the final time I turned my wristwatch backwards six hours and then watched dimly on the screen later that day as the plane circled, and circled, and circled around Dulles. Finally the captain told us that due to weather, we were going to have to reroute to JFK Airport in New York because D.C.�s other airport, Ronald Reagan National, didn�t accept international flights.
We landed at JFK and the original story was that we were going to wait our turn to refuel, and by then Dulles would have re-opened and we would be on our way. After 45 minutes, I was feeling thirsty and restless, and it was compounded by the fact that all the smiling Austrian Airlines flight attendants who had been so gracious and helpful and cheerful during the flight had disappeared entirely, and messages from the captain over the plane�s intercom were infrequent, and mostly in German.
Little did I know that we would sit on the tarmac for over 4 hours with NO FOOD and NO WATER and nearly no information before being allowed to enter the airport and go through Customs. And for me, that was only the beginning of the nightmare that was my Second Medevac.