Inspirational Quotes can kiss my...

I've been seeing a lot of these "inspirational quotes" on my Facebook wall for some time now.  I had previously agreed with them (I even had a "leap and the net will appear" postcard on my literal wall at home for many years), but now they are getting obnoxious.  I don't need an "inspiration for the day", my life should suffice enough. 

The one that really gets my goad, so to speak, is this one:

This is good for my fellow young, or not so young, Americans.  Give up everything you have, forget about your future, and just go.  Hell, I did it.  It's why I am currently sitting here, in a tiny village in Thailand, writing a blog post.  Sounds romantic as hell doesn't it?

No.  It's not.  It's by far the hardest and stupidest thing I have ever done.  I had it going good before I left.  I was making 65k a year, had a nice car, took international vacations twice a year, was on track to being a millionaire by the time I was 65.  Granted I was younger, had no kids, and worked 50+ hour weeks.  I did not enjoy my job per say, but I enjoyed the work I did.  It was OK.

It's all about experience though isn't it?  If I'd never decided to quit my job, move to Thailand, I wouldn't have my son, or my husband, who I love dearly.  My life would be easier, in so many ways I cannot even count, but I wouldn't have the two most precious things in my life.  But what I don't have is a savings account, I barely get by month to month, we are always struggling for money.  I don't have a retirement fund any longer (I cashed it out to buy land here, which I thought was a good investment but has since tanked since the drought).  I worry about when I get older and have nothing in my name to speak of, to take care of me except poor Asher.  Let's also mention here that I miss my family like hell.  My son will never be as close to his grandparents, his auntie and his uncle as some other kids are.  I miss my friends and the normality of my culture, the nuances that make up every day life for us in America.  I know marriage is hard, but add to that a completely different culture and beliefs, well sometimes it's enough to make me want to quit.  To the short of it: I will never be 100% happy again.  Never.  I will always be homesick, missing one place, one set of family, one life, for the rest of my life.  It's a fact that I've come to burden.

Another one that really gets to me:

Did you know that about 80% of the world makes just enough money to eat and sleep under a roof each night?  God, this is such first world thinking.  To have the privilege to just quit your job and move away.  To what?  To experience how the rest of the world lives in poverty?  You won't experience it until you live it.  And you won't live it till you live it, which you can't because you are not them.  For example, a nice little Karen family here makes 4,000 baht ($112) per month.  And that's decent, average wages here.  They live in a bamboo house that they built themselves, probably borrowing money from someone to do so.  A bamboo house costs around 10,000 baht ($280).  They don't have a mortgage, but they may have a motorbike they have to pay 500 baht ($14) per month for at 5% interest.  That leaves 3,500 ($98) for petrol, food, and school supplies for the kids.  There is no eating out, there is no saving money, they literally live hand to mouth because it is the only way they can live.  There is no chance of getting out of it.  If you are poor, you stay poor.  Period, end of discussion.  There are no education opportunities to "further themselves".  Even those lucky enough to have gone to university still work in the market making 4,000 baht per month.  An addition to this is that many of these people are stateless... they literally cannot leave this tiny town, even if they had the means and the desire.  It's a dead end. 

The ability, or even the idea, of quitting and going somewhere else is so foreign to most of the world.  They are happy enough in their own small communities, they know they don't have much, but they make do.  If only we could find that happiness and contentedness in our own lives instead of having to "quit" or "dive" or "fall and the net will appear". 

So I guess, think twice before you "quit your job, buy a ticket, get a tan, fall in love and never return".  Plus, skin cancer is on the rise, so I'd just go ahead and skip the tan anyway. And here's a nice article on why not to go into an intercultural marriage.

Does anyone else have any insight on this?  I'd love to hear!

Renewed, and renewed again

Do you ever look back to a time in your life and shudder?  To think, I went through that.  At the time it didn't feel so awful, but looking back you realize how utterly miserable you were?  Well, that's what's happening now with me, in respect to living in Krabi.  If I've ever made a right decision, it was the one to move back to Sangkhla.  Bugs, mold, dirt and illness be dammed, at least I am safe, with family.  Granted Krabi is still very fresh in my mind, so maybe my feelings toward the place will ease up a bit with time, but it is vaguely reminiscent of the time when I lived in San Fransisco for a year when I was 20, the memory still leaves a slightly bad taste in my mouth.

It ended badly, my time there.  I have never been one to start fights or make disagreements known to the general public, but lately I've been speaking my mind.  It seems that people don't appreciate this as much as I do.  The nursery I was working at was a sham, a "montessori school" that charged parents too much and was actually just a big room filled with broken toys.  Somewhere along the line I realized how miserable we were there, after a visit to Sangkla where we felt warmth and love that we'd been craving, and I decided to leave Krabi.  All the drama ensued at my place of employment after I gave my three week notice.  Apparently three weeks is short of standard, and I was treated with such disrespect, such catty-ness, that I really should have just walked out.  At the end I never got paid for those last three weeks, all because of some gossip surrounding my outspoken-ness.  Well, so be it.  Some people just love to be miserable and create misery wherever they go.

Anyhow, the one good thing about Krabi was Asher's school.  It was a true Montessori school and he learned so much there.  We are trying to keep up with teaching him at home, but I know I fall short in a lot of ways.  He is so much happier though, he is with his Papa, and that bond is so incredible I don't know how I could have taken it away from them for so long.  Asher will start to go to the local nursery next month, and I am a bit more than apprehensive about that, but if I don't try I won't know.  At the very least he will learn more Thai, which is really important to Amon and I.  He's also learning his native language, Karen, and all about jungle life.  And that, in this world of chaos, is so important to me.  That he know how to build a house out of bamboo, which plants he can eat, how to use a machete... OK, OK, I know, he's only two.  But still, these are the life skills I admire so much in my husband.

As far as my life, for now I am taking a breather.  I know I don't deserve this, I don't deserve anything actually, but I need it.  I need to be still and just... breathe.  For a minute.  For the last 2 weeks I have been truly living in the moment, really trying not to worry or obsess over the future or the past, and let me tell you, these have been the happiest two weeks in recent memory, without a doubt.  It's unfortunate that that kind of thinking is not sustainable for me though.  I do need to figure out something for a job, if not for money (we actually do need that, I suppose), then for getting out and doing something again.  There are some options on the horizon, but for the time being I will be finally setting up Amon's tour.  We'll see where that goes, but my hopes are high.  I have also put my name and face back out to the NGO community where I hope to get some volunteer gigs, and teaching English to little ones in now something I actually have experience in, so bring that on too if need be.

Life is funny.  No matter how hard I try to run away from certain places, people, and environs, I am continuously called back.  I am not done here.  What is it that Sangkhlaburi, this little village in the jungle, has to teach me? 

Gratitude

I meant to write this post last week when I was truly feeling grateful for this town, this country, these people... But now I am sort of feeling blah.  So I will write to remember, to remind myself how fortunate I am.

People ask me a lot these days why do I stay here?  If the goal was to still be with Amon while living in a more modern city, seeing as that didn't work out, why stay?  Well, it is a question I ponder often.  Especially on nights where Asher is being a two year old and I had a day full of two year old tantrums and it's raining and we're out of milk and so on.  But there are reasons that I stay.

The first is Amon.  Even though we don't see him daily, we still get to see him more than if we were in the states.  He does not yet have a visa (the petition for immigration was approved but still has to go through visa processing which can take another 6-12 months), so he could not come with us and us coming back to visit would be slim to none as I would be a single mom and we all know how that worked out the first time around.  I feel like that would ultimately tank our relationship.

The second reason I stay is for Asher.  While I make very little money (roughly $700 a month), I can still afford a new two-bedroom apartment within walking distance to town, school, shops and a park in a safe neighborhood.  Imagine what that costs in the states?  I can also afford to send him to a bilingual Montessori nursery which I KNOW I could not even come close to affording in the US of A.  I am also 20 minutes away from pristine, white sand beaches.  There are activities of all sorts that cater to tourists that I can join in as well.  Because of the huge tourism market there are tons of expats here in the same situation as me, and I can get a whole lot done a whole lot easier than in the states.  For example.  Renting a car or motorbike?  Easy, just pay, leave a copy of your passport and bam, done in 5 minutes. 

Thai language is another reason.  Asher is half-Thai after all, and I really think it is important for him to gain as much of it as possible.  It is a pity that there isn't any Karen spoken here, because actually, Asher is half Karen, but I had to give that up for a better quality of life.  I am aware however, that to become fully fluent in a language it take 7-8 years.  So that would mean staying here for another 5-6 years.  That's not really what I want.  Hopefully Amon will get his visa before then and we can all go to the states together and Asher can speak Thai with his father.  Hopefully.

The friendliness of Thai people is a huge reason that I stay.  The day I was going to write this I was inspired by my motorbike mechanic.  As you may or may not know my bike decided to die on me while I was at a busy stoplight the other day.  So I pushed the bike to the side of the road, thought for a moment, looked around for a parking spot thinking I would just abandon it till later, when I saw a mechanic, not 20 feet away.  So I pushed my bike it, told him what happened, and said I needed to catch a taxi to pick up my son.  He said no problem, just come back before six.  So anyway, I come back with Asher and they tell me the problem (I had put the wrong kind of gasoline in it) and the cost to fix and then asked me how I was going to get home.  I said I would just hail a taxi (by the way, they aren't taxis, they are pick up trucks with benches in the back that go along a specific route.  I guess more like a bus?)  And the mechanic tried to hail one for me.  After about 5 minutes of trying the older mechanic hopped onto his sam-low (three wheeled motorbike) and gave us a ride home. To our door.  The next day, after the craziness of trying to get to work and back to the shop, I noticed the mechanic who was working on my bike.  The guy is paralyzed from the waist down.  His legs lie limp in his rusted out wheelchair.  I can see his diaper peeking from his backside.  His arms are strong from all the pushing he has to do.  Turns out this is his shop.  He opened it after he was paralyzed figuring he could still work on bikes from his chair. 

I just so admire the tenacity, the strength of character Thai people have.  You got dealt a shitty hand in life, deal with it.  I donno, but after working in a nursing home in Boulder half filled with alcoholics and drug addicts who were living the lap of luxury and still going out to panhandle every day... I just want to shout at them all, Get a grip!  Grow up! 

The quality of life seems to be better here, I mean generally and overall.  The Buddhists are all about happiness and living in the moment, which is nice, refreshing.  They aren't ever so consumed with media and fear mongering and climbing to the top.  There are greedy people, but not like America.

Don't get me wrong.  Thailand is not the perfect place.  It is for some people, mainly those expats that are still earning foreign currency and can afford a nice house, a car, going out to eat, etc. But there are still issues.  For one, we are still in a coup.  The military is still in the government position and I don't forsee a fair election coming any time soon.  You can go to jail for talking bad about the King.  It is still very patriarchal.  Men are allowed to have many wives, socially, while woman are expected to stay at home and cook and clean.  There is trash everywhere!  Little pride is taken in people's homes, gardens, parks, schools.  They do pride in their cars though.  Which is strange.  There are a ton of cars here, which makes driving the motorbike extremely dangerous, especially with Asher.  And forget about it if it's raining.  Thai people drive like it's black ice when it's raining. 

Another thing Thailand is hugely lacking is my family.  My friends.  My people.  My culture.  And that is huge.  But I am still grateful, for the moment, to be living in  "paradise".

New Town, New Life, Same Same

I don't know what it is... Well, I do know.  Everything is new, but a lot is the same.  I don't know why I am surprised.  This is still Thailand, there are still ants in my house, scorpions, Thai workers smoking outside my door so the smoke fills my room, apartments that are dark and dank and neglected, lots full of trash.  There are less stares as I am now a part of the majority rather than the minority because I am white and have a white baby, but people still take Asher from me and bring him into their house without asking, steal him to pose for a photo, and threaten to give him sweets. 

Why did I move from Sangkhla?  The house?  Yes, our home was disgusting.  It got to the point where I didn't want to step foot inside the kitchen for fear of catching some unknown disease.  I stopped cooking and would only go in there to do laundry once every other day.  Here the kitchen is inside the house, like a proper kitchen, with a counter and a sink.  I've put the washing machine back there too so it feels almost European.

Did I move from the bugs?  Well, sort of, but I moved into a whole new territory of bugs.  There are insects here I've never seen.  And I have to say, while I had the occasional snake in my house in Sangkla, I never had scorpions, so it was only natural for me to burst into a full on panic attack when Amon found two giant black ones in my hallway.  Thank goodness he was still here at the time, I don't know what I would have done if he wasn't here to capture them. 

I moved to give Asher a better education.  But he is two.  Let's be real.  How much education does a two year old need?  Does he really need a 7,500 baht per month education?  Well it is clean, spotless, and they speak Thai and English, and they are all Montessori trained... He could go to nursery for free in Sangkla and still learn Karen and Thai, but with the possibility of being beaten and given candy all day...

I moved so I could be a nurse again.  But the International hospital hasn't gotten back to me after two trips there and several phone calls and emails.  The second time I went there they just looked at me and said, "why did you come back?"  Not so politely.  So I did find a job, working in a daycare, which is ironic because I had come back to Thailand with the intent on staying home with Asher and running a sort of daycare out of the house.  Well after about a week of being home with him and having fuck all to do, I threw in the towel.  I tried, I did, but staying at home isn't for me.  So now I will leave Asher at his school, so I can go take care of other people's children.

Amon and I weren't making enough money in Sangkla.  Well, I was making zero money and his money was gone after the first day of getting paid.  So that wasn't working out.  I came here to make more money, but will barely have enough to pay the bills.  If Amon were here that would be a different story.  But he's not.  I'll get to that later.

I hated that in Sangkla there was nothing to do.  NOTHING.  Go to the bridge.  Go to 7-11 or CJs.  But too hot in the day to actually go outside, so really stay inside all day until you are about to go insane and just at the breaking point the sun starts to set, the wind picks up, and you move outside.  We had no friends there, everyone knew us, but we had no one to sit and play or talk with.  Here we know some people already who also moved from Sangkla, Baan Unrak related people, and the potential to make many more friends as this is a big expat community.  There are mom clubs people.  MOM CLUBS.  There is a playground, and yeah, it is still filled with trash and quite run down, but it is a place where I can let my hyperactive toddler run his brains out without me worrying too much about him being hit by a car or stolen by a neighbor.  There is a big shopping center, and while I don't have the money to buy anything, it is still nice to go there and imagine the possibilities.  A couch!  A real couch!  Real curtains, a bed, a side table!  Stuff, all just stuff.  I can go without it, obviously, but it is still nice to sit on a couch at the end of the day.  I guess that's just the American in me. 

So, Amon.  Oh man, where to even begin?  Admittedly I did spring this on him quite suddenly.  I had just come back from America when all the sudden nothing was good enough.  I had seen how good life could be in the states and wanted to replicate that in Thailand.  The only way I could see doing that is to move out of the jungle.  I thought about this tour company we've been planning, I though of ways to stay at home and earn money, but nothing seemed feasable, and we would still be in that stinking dump of a town.  OK, that's a bit harsh, but by the end that's how I felt about it.  I would still have to stay at home with Asher because finding reliable childcare is impossible and he can't go to nursery until May.  I would still have to listen to the neighbor beat his new wife, the other neighbor wash their pig intestines, the other neighbor stumble around drunk at 8am.  I needed out.  Amon saw every day how unhappy I was.  He would come home and I would be in tears, again, because I just couldn't do it.  And then he would leave again to go see his father.

He has gotten over 20 job offers here through a friend of mine.  At different places, from tour guiding, to bartending, to boat driver.  He has the pick of the litter and he could make some really good money.  He could save money even and put it back into Sangkla, build that house finally, or send his father and sister money if he wanted.  But he chose not to come.  He did come for a week and helped us move in and get settled.  But it was so unsettling to have him leave.  I have been having panic attacks nightly in the face of doing this all alone.  Something I have always feared.  He sees Krabi as the same as Sangkla just more expensive.  I too see a lot of similarities, but if that's the case, why not move here?  And his reasoning is, why not stay there?  He can't see outside of his box because he's never been outside of his box.  He doesn't want to even try.  And that hurts like hell.  To know that he chose a town over his wife and child. 

I am afraid of what the future holds for us.  I am afraid of growing apart.  I am afraid of resentment and Asher forgetting him.  I mean, it's not like we've broken up or are getting a divorce, but it somehow feels that way.  He will come to visit at the end of the month and we will go there at Christmas, but it feels not enough.  Because it's the every day things that matter, the little helps that only a husband can give. 

In an ideal world we would all be together, in a nice town without trash, with good schools, good friends, family close by.  In an ideal world we wouldn't fight over how to parent Asher.  In an ideal world I would have a job as a nurse and Amon would have his own business.  But, it's not an ideal world.  We just have to manage day to day, minute by minute, and hope that one day it will all get better.

More Life Changes!

As you might have guessed from the previous posts, life back in Sangklaburi isn't all that exciting.  Well, it's exciting for you to read, but for Asher and I it has become mundane, dismal, and even dangerous. 

The other day I was at the little shop around the corner and the grandmother who runs it gave Asher a shot of whiskey.  Not just whiskey, but Lao Kao, the putrid fermented rice drink that men drink each night to "clean the body".  I was standing right there and had my head turned for only a second.  Asher spit most of it out, thankfully, but just the fact that someone who barely knows me, or my child, would give him poison without even asking me first?  NO.  Not OK.

And I find myself doing that on an almost daily basis.  My values are continuously being compromised, as a mother, a wife, and a woman.  As yet another puff of cigarette smoke goes wafting into my son's lungs from the numerous people who smoke around him I say to myself "it's only a little bit, it won't hurt him too bad".  But a little bit?  Is that even OK?  NO.  Not OK. 

Asher is sick now (yes, again).  He hasn't eaten in five days.  He has a fever and a sore throat.  The doctor said, after reviewing his latest set of labs, "it's just a virus".  FUCKING VIRUS.  If I hear that phrase "just a virus" one more time I might lose my shit.  He hasn't eaten in FIVE days.  No, not even one bite.  He is drinking milk, but that's it.  I want to go to the hospital, but everyone just says "give him "yaa kiow" and he will be better.  He has "ron nai" (hot inside) and he will be better on his own."  I say he won't even take water, how am I supposed to give him more medicine?  I have to force the Tylenol down as it is... But no, I am the mother, it is my job to hold his mouth open, make him gag, and force it down. 

OK, sorry for the rant.  That is just to illustrate some of the struggles I have here.  Oh I have so many more.

So, for the big news, the big change:  Asher and I are moving to Krabi in one week.  Krabi is a small-ish town in the South of Thailand.  Right on the ocean.  It is beautiful and most importantly, modern.  There are montessori schools, an international hospital, a Tesco Lotus (think Target, but better), jobs for me, and we even have some friends there.  Perfect.  I have already put a deposit on a place in Krabi Town, right across the street from the school I hope to get Asher in to.  I will be working in Ao Nang, a 20 minute drive from the Town. 

I am pretty excited about it all.  Pretty scared, because of course, this move is going to happen alone.  Amon will not be joining us.  It is our hope that he will join eventually, but right now he has decided to stay in Sangkhla.  I am not all that thrilled with being a single mom again, nor am I thrilled to be doing so in Thailand, but se la vie.  We will wait until Amon gets his visa to come to America and then most likely make another move, depending on how well it goes down south.  We do hope to see each other as much as possible, but it is a 14 hour drive by car (which we don't have) a two day bus ride, or a plane ride followed by an 8 hour bus ride.  But, we will do our best.

So that's it.  The new life change.  The big decision.  Man, I am getting sick of these. 

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. 

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 a 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 seems a lot harder to have a sick child here than it does in the states, but I am glad that at least I can stay home with him to handle it.