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!
Only a fool will miss the obvious fact that this nation absolutely adores its longest reigning monarch (apparently also in the world), HM King Bhumibol Adulyadej. Much has been reported about his image (voluntarily) plastered all over the country and Thais wearing yellow on Mondays (Monday is the day the King was born and yellow is the colour for Monday), clearly to pay tribute to him --- no doubt for his immense contribution to this country.
As an outsider looking in, it's impossible not to admire this influential and well-loved leader. It's fascinating to see how 'real' his relationship is with his people. It's almost like that of a grandfather with a grandchild --- the closest analogy I could think of is that of the fondness devout Roman Catholics have for the late Pope John Paul II.
The King's influence on the Thai people is so far-reaching that I shouldn't have been surprised to find out that one of the reasons stray (native) dogs thrive in this country is because the King is a strong supporter of these 'un-pedigreed' canines. I had mentioned previously how it amazes me to see the chubbiest dogs in this country. And it's quite a common thing to see groups (packs) of stray dogs lazily sprawled on pedestrian lanes with no care at all if you notice them or not. Back in my country, the stray dogs I've seen are not only the most pitiful scraggly creatures one would ever find. You also see this 'praning' (paranoid) expression on their faces as though they were about to be punished (butchered?). I know it's weird but try looking hard at one and you'll see what I mean. But here in the Land of Smiles, you will find the most contented and relaxed stray dogs. They are as unperturbed as their local human counterparts.
What has the King got to do with it?
The King is a dog-lover who promotes caring for the native variety. Testament to the principle of 'mahalin ang sariling-atin' (love your own). He has a dog named, Thong Daeng, who's actually a popular figure in this country owing perhaps to the book the King wrote about this dog. To quote Wikipedia:
"Thong Daeng, a female copper-coloured dog, is one of the pets owned by King Bhumibol Adulyadej of Thailand. Bhumibol adopted Thong Daeng in 1998 from the litter of a stray dog that had been taken in by a medical center he had recently dedicated. Her name means "copper" in Thai.
"Bhumibol called her "A common dog who is uncommon," and in 2002 wrote an affectionate biography of her titled "The Story of Thong Daeng". The book is commonly referred to as a parable on many social topics. For instance, the King wrote that "Tongdaeng is a respectful dog with proper manners; she is humble and knows protocol. She would always sit lower than the King; even when he pulls her up to embrace her, Tongdaeng would lower herself down on the floor, her ears in a respectful drooping position, as if she would say, 'I don't dare.'
"All the names of the dogs owned by the King start with the word "Thong" (lit. gold).
"The book instantly sold out in Thailand. Riot-like scenes unfolded in shops as customers wrestled and fought with each other over the last few items. Since demand was so high, the book became an esteemed gift. Shortages of the book had to be kept down by multiple reprints."
Here's a copper-coloured stray dog in Koh Samed who struck the perfect pose to get us to feed him our left-over dinner. At nagpadala naman kami (and we let it get to us)!
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.
I was describing to an Italian colleague how I felt my heart stop so many times mostly in absolute wonder of his country's glorious beauty, frequently having left me (and my Southeast Asian girl friends Trang, Noi and Noy) totally breathless.
It's only now that I realise the flight from Bangkok to Frankfurt (connecting flight) provided an ominous sign of what was up ahead. How often does it happen that ones' plane suddenly stops by, dead of night, at a place like Delhi, India to entrust a passenger suffering a heart attack to medics?! It happened with mine.
#1 Our whole trip had been dotted with anxious moments running after trains, boats, shuttles and tours, sometimes with heavy baggages in tow. The most excruciating dash was the walk from Piazza San Roma (Venice) to the train station which included 3 bridges (cummulatively worth as many steps as those of the "Spanish Steps" in Rome) to catch the train from Venice to Milan for me and Noi (to Rome for Noy and Trang). That's experiencing back-packing first-hand, with laptops to boot!
#2 Authentic Italian food and the concept of Slow food vs. Fastfood
#3 Coffee and the proper time for capuccino or espresso (as the rest of the world calls it), otherwise Italians just call it coffee
#4 Gelato
#5 Beautiful cities. Firenze (Florence), Venezia (Venice), Milano (Milan) and Roma (Rome)
#6 Beautiful, fashionable men (ages 12 to 92) who seem to have a strong appreciation for Asian ladies. Check out a hilarious account on this topic at Noi's blog (entitled "The Barbaric Invasion")!
Details on food and cities to follow. Ciao!
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)
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.
