A Cross Cultural Sick Day

So, Asher is sick.  I could say "yet again" or "of course he is", but I've come to the realization that kids get sick.  It's just in their nature, it doesn't have to do with where we are, most of the time, but just the laws of evolution (though I blame our friend's kid for passing this lovely virus on).

He's got some sort of cough/fever combination that's making him wheeze and sound like a hundred year smoker, not unlike he had in America for 6 weeks.  So, I know what that looks like there: trips to doctor's office just to hear them say "it's just a virus, give him Tylenol when he has a fever, come back in a week if he still has it".  Staying home from school, finding a babysitter (Thanks Dad!), staying up all night listening to the cough, worrying endlessly.  Some things are the same here, but let me just give you a run down of how it generally goes when my kid gets sick in Sangkhlaburi:

Day one:  Asher has a runny nose and slight cough.  Quick!  Long sleeves and pants, socks and shoes, and a hat!  Don't go in the rain, don't go out on the motorbike.   You cannot use the fan or he will get pneumonia.  Don't give him a bath in the evening, it's too cold.  (It's 80 degrees).

Night one:  Asher has a fever now.  Yaa Para STAT (Tylenol).  Chedt Tua (wipe the body down with cool towel).  Bring in to bed with mom and dad.  Mom and dad both get woken up every time Asher coughs or stirs.  Nobody sleeps.  Asher is wheezing badly, his stomach muscles are tight from the coughing.   Amon freaks out, something is wrong with his stomach!  Nurse Ani explains the muscle situation.  Amon doesn't believe her, says we need to go buy Ma Ha Hing and put it on NOW (it's 2am, nothing is open).  Ani tells Amon, shhhh, go to sleep.  Ani puts on Vicks.  Asher sleeps for 10 minutes, stirs, the process is repeated.  Until 7am when it is decided we should go to the hospital.  Dengue fever has been going around and Asher may have it.

Day Two:  We don't have a car.  The hospital is a 20 minute drive from us.  We can't take the motorbike, it's too cold (ok, maybe it's like 70 degrees out).  So we wait for Amon's company car to come and pick us up and we go to Huay Malai, where, thankfully, Amon is working that day and it is where the hospital is located.  (Note: there is a hospital in town, a two minute drive from our house.  However, it is a government hospital, and I would not set foot in there if my life depended on it, ESPECIALLY if the life of my child depended on it.)   So Amon drops Asher and I off at the hospital and he goes to work.  We check in, they give us a slip of paper and then it's off to the little desk where they draw the blood.  Yes, a blood draw.  How many times has your 2 year old had his/her blood taken?  Mine has had his done at least 10 times in his little life.  They "have" to check the blood for anyone who comes in with a fever to check for malaria.  They also do a CBC to check the platelets.  If the platelets are low it could mean Dengue fever.  Then we sit and wait, and wait, and wait.  Until finally the morning prayer is over (it's a Christian hospital) and the doctors have returned from rounds.  We are assigned a number.  Luckily we aren't too bad off: number 19.  The doctor churns through patients quickly, averaging a 5 minute turn around.  It's our turn.  It's like we've won the lottery.  We rush inside.  The doctor looks at Asher's throat, checks out the blood work, feels his tummy and listens to his lungs before declaring, yep, you guessed it, it's a virus.  It's going around you know, the weather is changing. 

Before I get to ask any questions of the doctor, I am ushered out, back to waiting.  Another 30 minutes go by and our lucky number has come up again, to pay and to collect the medicine.  380 baht (about $11) and a bag full of Tylenol, cough syrup, and antihistamine later, we get to go.  I call Amon to come get us.  While waiting we sit outside where 20 or so people sit and stare at us.  They point and smile and say "Farang!"  That means foreigner.  Yes, my son and I are, endlessly, the odd man out.

Later on in the day we make it back home and Asher passes out.  He sleeps all day, doesn't eat, the usual sick kid syndrome.  In the evening the neighbor tells us to give him honey with lemon water for the cough.  The best advice I have heard in all my years in Thailand made by a Thai person.  Usually people are all about antibiotics and anything with chemicals.  So something natural, as suggested by an elderly Thai person, is right up my alley (and, in fact, something I have suggested multiple times to Amon, but he didn't listen until someone else said it, typical husband thing).   Of course Asher didn't drink it, he's only taking milk at this point.

Night Two:  Is it really only night two?  This feels like it has been going on FOREVER.   But, I am prepared tonight.  I have my arsenal of Tylenol and Ibuprofen at the ready.  I give Asher some cough medicine, which is just Benedryl and menthol and sugar, and put him to bed.  With me of course.  He could stop breathing if he were in his crib alone.  The night goes well, I medicate him every four hours to keep the fever at bay, and he sleeps.  We both sleep.  We all sleep! 

Day Three: Wake up, slightly refreshed, Asher is in a better mood but still not eating.  Oh well, he wasn't eating even before he got sick, so I'm not going to take it personally.  Amon goes to work, we stay at home.  I am not supposed to go anywhere as we only have the motorbike and Asher is still too sick to go out, but I wait until Amon is out of the town and I get Asher dressed and we go to pay the rent and the electricity bill.  But, then, CAUGHT.  Amon hasn't left yet!  He makes us pull over, scolds me for not putting a long sleeve shirt on Asher, I tell him off, it is almost 90 degrees out in the sun, and we go on our way. 

So, there you have it.  It is so much harder to deal with a sick baby here, but I am glad that at least I can stay home with him.