De ja vu

I am officially back in the swing of things here in Bangkok. However, along with all the niceties of life in this grand city—cheap manicures and pedicures, public transportation, super cheap travel—there are a few not so nice aspects of living in Bangkok. Top of the list: food poisoning. Yes, I have been fully re-introduced back into south-east Asia with nine days of diarrhea. You may remember my hospital adventure from last October. Same thing, but this year it was much worse. I spent the night before the first day of school on the toilet, to the point that I even considered making my bed in the bathtub for the night (who ever heard of fecal incontinence?). I didn’t feel bad; I just couldn’t keep my shit together, so to speak. I decided to let it run its course, keep myself hydrated and all that. I thought for sure it would go away. It seemed like it was on the way out the door and then BAM. It came back with a vengeance.
I had gone to school the other day thinking all was well. I was sitting at my desk grading papers when I began to feel like there was a poisonous gas expanding in my belly. Lucky for me, I have planning first period so I went to lie down in the nurse’s office. Sweet Ms. Peach always looks so sympathetic to whatever is ailing me. She let me lay down on a bed and I curled up in the fetal position because somehow I thought this would help. It didn’t. Besides, I mainly wanted to be close to the handy little bathroom that is in the nurse’s office. Good thing too because I made four trips in an hour.
I can’t explain how wretched I felt. I began to feel clammy and nauseous. I really didn’t want to miss school the second week of classes but I couldn’t picture staying there the way I felt either. So I made arrangements to leave. A substitute came to my room and I was free to go to the hospital. Of course I don’t have a car. And our school is not on a main road so taxis don’t frequent our soi very often. I was beginning to feel somewhat panicky. I didn’t want to have to explain to anyone what was going on with my gastrointestinal track and didn’t know if it would be proper if I asked someone to call a taxi for me. And I don’t know any numbers for taxis. I could feel the tears starting to come, the trickle of vulnerability rolling down my cheeks as I started the hike to the main road. Once I was away from the school I started bawling. Picture it, thirty something female in dress clothes trudging along a poverty stricken street in ninety degree heat crying her eyes out. Humiliating. And all I could think was I hope I don’t have to make an emergency squat around here.
Before I made it to the main street, a taxi did come along. Thank you, God. I think a very nice Thai man called one for me. He spoke to me (as I was ambling along, crying, clenching my butt cheeks together to prevent further humiliation) and asked me in very broken English if I needed a taxi. I looked around thinking maybe he was a taxi driver but I did not see a car. He motioned for me to wait nearby; I think he was going to call a taxi for me but I wasn’t sure. And I couldn’t wait. Unfortunately, my Thai has not advanced enough to say that I was suffering from explosive diarrhea and must get to the hospital ASAP. So, I kept walking.
I made it to the hospital without any incidents. The waterworks stopped (from one end anyway) and, as an added bonus, the nurse who checked my vitals did not have to bring out the special blood pressure cuff (the non-Thai sized one). I was beginning to feel at ease. The doctor was very kind as she told me I had food poisoning. She prescribed a shot of antibiotic and then five more days of oral antibiotics to fix me up. I was then led to the injection room. Doesn’t that sound horrible—injection room? I was thinking (hoping against hope rather) that they would be able to just give me the shot in my arm and be done with it. Ha! I can add delusional to the list of ails that were troubling me. The little Thai nurse came in and said that the shot would be in my buttocks. That would mean that I would have to bare my bottom to this little lady whose upper thigh is as big around as my upper arm. She made a gesture that meant I should disrobe and she disappeared behind the curtain. I was sick, but not sick enough to have this thought make me feel even more ill that I already was. I had just recently been told by a Muay Thai boxer from Holland that I had the biggest ass he’s ever seen (I personally think he’s been punched ten too many times in his little Dutch head which has thus skewed his vision, but still) so I wasn’t about to get naked in front of this little slip of a thing. She came back in and there I was, fully clothed. Maybe she can give it to me through my skirt? I laid down on my belly, pulled my skirt down a bit and proffered her an ample patch of the upper hip region which seemed to satisfy her. Another saving grace.
It wasn’t over though. I made it back to my apartment only to vomit violently two hours later. I never vomit when I am sick. Still later, I had a fever. What was this? I thought I was supposed to be getting better. Wasn’t that shot in the derrière worth anything? I began to panic. I couldn’t call anyone because I was out of minutes on my cell phone (I had called Stefanie to convert my Celsius temperature to Fahrenheit for me and to get a little bit of familial sympathy). Should I go back to the doctor? Maybe I was misdiagnosed? What if I die in the middle of the night, alone in my apartment?
About this time, the academic director called to make sure I was okay. She is the sweetest, most maternal person I have ever met. She offered to bring me some congee (rice soup) because that is one of the two things the doctor said I could eat (the other was clear soup—yum). I spoke with her husband, who is also my principal, and asked if I should take some Tylenol. “Why wouldn’t you take some Tylenol?” Huh, good question. Why does perspective and common sense go out the window when you don’t feel well? He suggested I take the next day off as well. I guess if I’m asking stupid questions like that, I wouldn’t be of much use in the classroom.
Anyway, I woke up feeling much better. No fever. No nausea. Not much of the other stuff either. I spent the day watching borrowed movies (Family Man, French Kiss, Great Expectations—I always forget how much I love that movie). So tomorrow, it’s back to the grind.