Thoughts and Reflections, What I Learned, and So Forth

I’m fortunate to have a robust immune system and a strong stomach, yet I completely underestimated the power of pathogens that Cambodia has to offer the Westerner. I had heard horror stories of the consequences of eating street food, and brushed these aside; after shaky beginnings, my stomach had stabilized by the second week, and I began devouring anything and everything that my students ate. As I rolled around in that hospital bed in my perpetual semi-conscious state, my thoughts gravitated around the array of foods I had consumed in the past week that likely have led to this. A maggot crawling through a salad at a roadside stand sticks out, along with myriad slices of sugar cane doused in (probably unsafe) water that I sucked on like penny candy throughout my classes.

But was it dysentery after all? Our resident volunteer doctor, Jumana, insists it was dengue fever, a virus spread by mosquitos, urging me to get a blood test should I continue to feel fatigued. The first wave of symptoms that hit were something else entirely, she says, than dysentery. Dysentery doesn’t cause extremely high fever, hallucinations, shivering, etc. What it evolved into later, seemed very much like dysentery, but it doesn’t all add up. Was it dengue all along? Or perhaps both, one piggybacking off the other, virus and bacteria joining forces to conquer evolutions (disputably) greatest invention? I’m not sure, but even the chance of it being dengue compelled me to buy a mosquito net and douse myself in bug spray; as many can attest, dengue gets far worse the second time around.

This sickness, whatever it was, hit me hard, physically and mentally. The first few days in the hospital are simply a blur of sleeping, waking, hobbling to the toilet, trying to eat morsels of overtly bland food, smiling weakly at nurses as they change my IV and enjoying daily visits from Dr. Malhotra. Its very difficult when a sickness saps you of everything, including mental abilities. I couldn’t pick up the book I was reading for several days, and when I had the energy to form complex thought patterns again, they were, well, dark. Being laid out on your back inevitably brings critical feelings of hopelessness, vulnerability and weakness, and although I was in very good hands and far from danger, it is a harsh reminder of my own human mortality. I have avoided serious illness and overnight hospital visits my whole life, yet now, there was something about spending days and nights in this enormous complex of the sick and ailing that reminds me that after all, I was born, and I will most certainly, one day, die.

The hospital stay was a wake up call, to employ an overused idiom. At 22, it is easy to feel smug, invulnerable, invincible against all odds, and I have adopted this sort of “fuck you,save your concerns for the weak, they don’t apply to me”, idiotic, backwards, macho mentality that eventually undid me, as it always will to those who adopt it. This humility exacerbated the feelings of mortality explained above; I wasn’t nobly struck down by some evil malevolent force. This was all my own doing. Dysentery, dengue or both, it arose from my own failures to protect myself, against either mosquitos or troublesome bacteria. As these realizations mounted, I solemnly resolved to check my ego indefinitely, lest it ever surge, spill over, and land me in the hospital, or somewhere worse, again

My comfortable, delusional bubble of security, the “oh it only happens to other people” web of utter stupidity, the elitist immunological snobbery, has all been brutally dismantled. No longer will I adopt such a cavalier attitude regarding my own health. I have lot more to do in this life, far more to create, to write, to teach, to inspire, to complete. I can’t go under just yet, or anytime soon. Being foolish enough to bring about a totally preventable death is an incredibly selfish act. The ramifications of mere illness were bad enough for my coworkers (already short staffed), students, family and loved ones. To go off into the void as a result of something I could have easily prevented by wearing insect repellent, or wearing a helmet, or any number of risk mitigating activities, would be, well, senseless and enormously selfish.

Looking back, this ailment wasn’t terribly serious. I am fortunate enough to have the means to be treated professionally; I shudder at thinking of what would’ve happened otherwise.

When I was in Siem Reap, I was in the hands of people who cared about me very deeply, yet did not have all the means to take care of me. In Bangkok, I was in the hands of professionals who don’t know me but have the proper means to cure me. Thankfully, there was only a several hour lapse between these two parties.

I was never in serious danger, I don’t believe, and am fortunate that the illness I contracted was bad enough to teach me a lesson or two, yet not so bad to knock me out indefinitely. As of this writing, exactly a week after my discharge from the hospital, I still feel weak at times, and am still having trouble eating the traditional Khmer food that my students consume at the wood house, yet feel infinitely better and stronger with every day.

There’s a somewhat cheesy saying that I’ve seen emblazoned on countless high school and university sports teams’ t-shirts: “That which doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger.” Tacky and overused, yes, but I learned a powerful lesson in humility and mortality from this ordeal that I won’t soon forget. It also revealed the enormous depth of caring possessed by the staff and students at The Global Child. The silly westerner gets sick due to his own supercharged ego, and they unquestionably come his aid, reassure him, comfort him, sleep on his floor, accompany him to the airport. All of this for someone whose cavalier attitude landed them in the hospital, where they can’t perform the job they promised to do, and which the children I’ve resolved to serve need terribly.

After I was released from the hospital, I spent several days in Bangkok gathering supplies with Note for myself and the students. I had planned on spending more time getting my strength back, yet I found myself very seriously missing the staff, the students, the volunteers, the entire establishment. I called Smey the next day, and with overflowing joy was able to tell her, I am coming home, home to Cambodia, home to my friends, and home to the family that is The Global Child.

Thoreau famously wrote, “You never gain something but that you lose something.” This goes both ways. I lost a few days, but what I gained is so tremendous and far reaching, its impossible to quantify, and will be shaping me for years to come.

Endnote: The days in the hospital after I was somewhat functional again were full of reading, thinking and talking to my Nepali neighbor. Unfortunately, a Bangkok hospital gets lonesome soon after you have the energy to realize you’re completely alone. Fortunately, I had the two most important women of my life calling me hourly to talk, reassure me, imbue confidence, and coax me to laugh once more. Also, I had a Thai friend, Note, who was at the hospital every day, bringing me food and drink, sharing stories, and educating me about the Buddhist religion. Smey unfailingly called everyday to remind me that I was missed. I made a quick post and sent out an email when I got sick, and the response in my inbox was overwhelming. Thank you, to everyone who took the time to send some positive words. They helped more than I have the talent to express.

Last but not least; I left my camera at home, but here are some photographs of one my caretakers, Ratha

Compassionate caretaker and also a black belt in karate, here Ratha is sparring with fellow secondary student, Vutha