When you can't su su any longer

Wouldn’t be a trip without a little unexpected surprise, no?

(This is part 2 of my update after much time away. Check out my previous post as well for the more positive, heartwarming things)

After getting back from a solid two weeks away, I was ready to settle in and get to work. My goal is to complete a solid draft report to with my coworkers so we can discuss it before I leave. All that amidst a lot of other competing priorities— friends wanting me to visit their villages, needing to do my visa run to the border, final meetings, helping with the ISDSI new student orientation, and so on. So many strands of life to wrap up before I leave!

But nothing is without mitigating circumstances, and my body decided to have a few demands of its own. Our last week was spent in villages that are probably some of the more rural and remote I’ve been to, accessible by small crumbling ‘main’ roads and close to the Burmese border. While one of the best experiences I’ve had, we didn’t think much about convenience or cleanliness, and thus probably sanitation as well. We walked to some villages because the roads were impassible in the rain, didn’t change clothes for 3 or more days, and I are dog 2 or 3 times unknowingly. On our way home, when my director wasn’t feeling well, he mentioned that there was malaria in the area. (As it ended up, he does in fact have malaria).

All this was evidently just a little too much for my body. Though I’ve never had issues with food before and rarely ever even been sick here, in the days after we got back, I started developing serious stomach pains. The other symptoms varied—an almost acid reflux like reaction to eating or drinking, no appetite, and increasingly sharp stomach pain that was turning into back pain and full body aches. I waited it out, thinking it would pass. Day 1 I actually did my border run trip, and Day 2 I went to ISDSI to work on translations. But by noon, I couldn’t focus any longer… I’d reached and surpassed my pain tolerance.

No one at ISDSI could diagnose or treat this sort of thing, so I went to the hospital. In my rush to be relieved of the pain, I even left my backpack and computer, just taking my wallet and phone. The nurses and doctor weren’t really sure what to make of me—a farang who spoke Thai and drove herself to the hospital, but was on the verge of tears. Said she worked and lived here but came alone. To be honest, I didn’t know what to do with myself either. I’m normally a strong independent person, but when I reach my limit, that’s that. Anything else puts me over the edge. The doctor said he thought I had a stomach infection and advised admitting me. I had no idea if it was necessary or not, but I couldn’t handle this anymore myself and needed someone to take care of me. The first hour alone in the hospital, before I had the chance to call anyone, wasn’t really any better. After multiple attempts to put in my IV (unfortunately, as someone generally scared of needles, I also have small veins), I curled up and had a good cry.

But thankfully, I’m not alone here. Within an hour of calling a field instructor from ISDSI and my friend from work, both were here with documents I needed and my backpack. Once it was late enough to be morning in the US, I called and had two good conversations with my parents. So good to hear their voices (as I tried to inform them without being too startling that I was in the hospital). My friend Ae stayed here with me through the night; while not necessary, it made the experience a lot better to have a friend to help me, to talk to, watch a movie with. Now after staying overnight and getting some antibiotics, painkillers, and fluids, I’m feeling a lot better. I’m in the process of being discharged, should be home by the afternoon.

But the real outcome has been something more. As I lay in this bed yesterday, looking out my window at the Chiang Mai skyline, I realized how familiar this place is, how much it feels like home. And not just the scenery— even in the toughest situations, when I can’t handle things on my own, I have a support network here that I can lean on, people that will take care of me. These aren’t just surface relationships, these are true friends.