Just got back from the Bumrungrad International Hospital (Sukhumvit) to have my hand sutured. Accidentally cut the base of my left index finger with a meat cleaver this morning!
Apart from profuse bleeding which I've never seen before live, I kept wondering why I was not feeling any pain --- except whenever the wound was inspected. Must have been my adrenaline running and/or the angels I asked God to send to heal my wound quickly! Hahaha :)
Past injuries must have taught me how to stay calm in situations like these. I was trying hard not to laugh when I found myself trying to calm down the reception staff, Khun Sarin, who went up to my apartment to check my wound. I asked her to sit down when I thought she was about to faint at the sight of blood gushing out and simply instructed her step-by-step what to do: clean my wound with antiseptic, cover with balls of cotton to absorb the blood, tape with plaster while I put pressure on it to stop the bleeding. She was to hail me a cab to bring me to the nearest English-speaking hospital while I dress up to leave (another challenge altogether!).
Suffice it to say, true to its reputation, the hospital I went to had a very able and efficient staff with
very good facilities. In between negotiations to cut down the number of stitches and whether to suture with local anaesthesia or not, they managed to close up the wound with 7 stitches that can come off in 7 days. The doctor, Dr. Weerapat, was surprised when I asked if I could watch him suture my wound since the affected area was already feeling numb at that point (I actually felt the first few stitches). I've always wanted to know how that looks like in real life. I don't know why he asked me if I was a doctor. I sat up and watched but he stopped sewing onto my skin then he just gently asked me to lie down. Fine. I wonder why he didn't let me watch. One of my doctors before, Dr. Wang, didn't mind if I watched him take out the stitches from my knee (when I had my ACL surgery). Maybe because Dr. Wang knew me well enough not to get queasy over these things.
Nevertheless, regardless of nationality, I felt again the same almost awe-struck gratefulness to my doctor and the medical staff who attended to my wound as I've always felt towards others in the past.
Most people I know hate the smell of hospitals because it reminds them of death, suffering and despair. I don't know why I've always liked the smell of hospitals. Maybe because it reminds me of healing, renewal and hope.
Thank God for doctors!
These I quickly jot down just so I don’t forget. I’m beginning to discover that this whole blogging phenomenon has much to do with not wanting to forget. While I can just grab a pen and write a journal, coming to this space has become a more preferred channel to release whatever it is that’s clogging my mind. Yes, I am “declogging.” It’s like I can’t move on until I write it. I know it’s bizarre but it’s there anyway. Maybe because I know if I were in Manila I would have somehow told you about it (even if you didn’t want me to) and shown you all the snaps I took with pasalubong (souvenir) to go with them. And so I go back to this.
It’s been almost a month since Italy but just to seal off all the anecdotes on this trip, I’ll swiftly run you through some of the highlights on Venezia and Roma. Again, the charm of these cities, best discovered walking, is in their ability to intantly transport you to a different era altogether. Whether its in a 70's James Bond film or a masquerade ball in the 1600's, it still made for much time travel.
Venezia
- Labyrinthine passages to get to Piazza San Marco - where you find its basilica and
square (piazza) as beautiful as anyone else has attested. Locals said it should take us less than an hour to get from Piazza San Roma (where we could just take a boat) to this must-see cathedral. It took us 3 hours to find San Marco inspite of all the supposed directional signs. Venice is one massive maze you can easily get lost in (had been forewarned in Lonely Planet earlier on). 
Yet this seeming deliberate attempt to ‘lose’ you is “forgivable” because you just want to savour the beauty of this uniquely captivating maritime city. You know instinctively that you won’t find anything like it in the world. - Art: Venetian masks and costumes, Murano glass, Burano lace
- Boat rides on the Grand Canal to and from Piazza San Roma to Piazza San Marco that Noi and I quietly burst into song (discovered we could sing some songs in harmony)!
Roma
- The late evening instant tour of ancient ruins and tourist sites (Palatino or Roman Forum, Mouth of Truth, Colloseu, Fontina de Trevi) by the hotel driver upon our pick up from the airport
- 3-hour afternoon walk around the city with office colleagues (activity part of work) which included visits to the Fontina de Trevi, Piazza Venezia (Capitol),
Piazza Navona, The Pantheon, Piazza de Spagna (Spanish Steps)
- Orange tree-lined streets. The first time I've seen orange trees in my life!
- Discovering the Palatino (Roman Forum) and Colloseu on foot with Noy – even saw a newly-wed bride and groom walking by the arch beside the Colloseu
- The Vatican City – the tears just started to fall. I couldn’t explain it. I’ve been to other ancient sites, temples and museums which all showcase the richness of their respective cultures and faith. But the Vatican City, I was telling my mom, is a living monument of how truly our God rocks. It’s a gigantic storybook narrating the fall of man and his redemption. And best of all, a loving God who reaches out to fallen man. Christianity, it’s been said, is the only religion that has its God reaching out to its puny creation. I was so overwhelmed at all the things seen and heard at the Vatican. My jaw-dropping moments at the Uffizi or Accademia (Florence) are incomparable.
My friend Roy left a short story on my laptop last Thursday. Not only does he own and manage a laudromat (with Marla) back home but he also writes! I don't know if it was because he was bored stiff with all our female chatter but he simply decided to quickly type up a short story and leave it on my computer. Tell me, how often does anyone give you a short story?! :)
Amidst a tight schedule the next day, I couldn't help unravelling my 'present' entitled "John's Laundry and Redemption Center." Okay, I thought, this must be partly the story of his life. Interesting...
To my surprise, it made for a very appropriate Good Friday message.
* * *
John's Laundry and Redemption Center
Somewhere in this city sits a little laundry. It’s rather small, just a fifteen square meter deal, and yet, the loads it takes can border on the ridiculous... (FULL STORY)
I just brought my parents to the airport this morning and consequently had to pop in my ultimate pill against sadness, Christian music. This is after walking into an empty room my parents occupied for the past weeks and stumbling into the tocino, longanisa and a couple of other food stuff they had left behind in my fridge (sniff! :). Right now I'm listening to the Revive album of Gary V. Already, I feel better and I know I'll be bouncing back in no time especially after Church later. Galing nga kasi a friend just called for dinner with some Pinoy friends this evening.
I've had so many people say, even complain, how stoic and nonchalant I can get. I've had some describe me to be "Nazi"-like when I need to implement a particularly difficult decision (even in my personal life). But like all 'warriors,' we all have moments we put our guard down (as I've always been taught not to do in karate) because it's impossible to keep it up all the time. It's these time when I gladly run back to our Heavenly Father, faced with the presence of the King of all Kings, and lay it all down...armour, sword and all...knowing only He can give comfort, joy and peace that transcends all understanding, something the world will never be able to give.
Warrior is a Child
Lately I've been winning battles left and right
But even winners can get wounded in the fight
People say that I'm amazing
I'm strong beyond my years
But they don't see inside of me
I'm hiding all the tears
They don't know that I come running home when I fall down
They don't know who picks me up when no one is around
I drop my sword and cry for just a while
'Coz deep inside this armour
The warrior is a child
Unafraid because
His arrow is the best
But even soldiers need a quiet place to rest
People say that I'm amazing
I never face retreat, oh no
But they don't see the enemies
That lay me at His feet
They don't know that I come running home when I fall down
They don't know who picks me up when no one is around
I drop my sword and cry for just a while
'Coz deep inside this armour
The warrior is a child
(Words and music by Twila Paris)
Phra Pathom Chedi (Nakhon Pathom Province), said to be the tallest Buddhist monument in the world, was our (me and my parents) first stop before heading towards Kanchanaburi some two weeks ago. The chedi supposedly attracts Buddhist pilgrims all over the world. In fact, I saw a few pilgrims perform a particular ritual of walking around the circular structure three times carrying around, in a prayerful pose, what seemed to be a lotus stem. Each 'revolution' around the chedi represents a prayer offered to each of the following in this strict order: (1) Buddha; (2) The monk of the highest order in the temple; and (3) all of the pilgrim's ancestors.
Buddhist pilgrim performing the ritual of '3 revolutions' around the Chedi.
A month ago (16th January), Thailand celebrated National Children's Day. Our church (Every Nation, aka Victory in the Philippines) marked this day by orgnising an outreach to more than 300 children at a community in Central Ladprao, Bangkok. The community is a Day Care for less fortunate children who, to my mind, are not used to being well-attended to, much less receving gifts like toys or school supplies. It took a good 2km walk going to and from the community coming from Big C Ladprao Mall. Cliche as it may sound but it was worth enduring the noonday heat just to bring smiles to these children. To borrow from the newsletter of Malen Talusan, a Filipino missionary at our chuch:
"On this day, we distributed bags filled with groceries, snacks, colouring books, crayons and pencils to to children of drug addicts and parents who work in the provinces. We played games and shared God in a natural way. Please continue to pray that one day they will grow up in a secure environment...full of God's love."
Children at the community we visited playing "The Boat is sinking." That's Pastor Jonas (Bernales), in black, looking on.
Just got back from the Bumrungrad International Hospital (Sukhumvit) to have my hand sutured. Accidentally cut the base of my left index finger with a meat cleaver this morning!
very good facilities. In between negotiations to cut down the number of stitches and whether to suture with local anaesthesia or not, they managed to close up the wound with 7 stitches that can come off in 7 days. The doctor, Dr. Weerapat, was surprised when I asked if I could watch him suture my wound since the affected area was already feeling numb at that point (I actually felt the first few stitches). I've always wanted to know how that looks like in real life. I don't know why he asked me if I was a doctor. I sat up and watched but he stopped sewing onto my skin then he just gently asked me to lie down. Fine. I wonder why he didn't let me watch. One of my doctors before, Dr. Wang, didn't mind if I watched him take out the stitches from my knee (when I had my ACL surgery). Maybe because Dr. Wang knew me well enough not to get queasy over these things.
