Well I suppose you can call it 'the almost moment I feared most'. Being sick in Bangkok. I've had worse, but you know how it is when you get older, you fear the worst. Brigitte Jones moments I suppose - lying there, on your own, dead, eaten by dogs (or something like that anyway). BUT, as I lay in my bed pondering my feared demise, I could not help but make comparisons.
JOZI:
You wake up, ill and half dead. You have to phone and apologize to x amount of people at work, explain why you haven't advised them in advance that you were going to be SUCH a pain in the ass to be sick and to give motivations as to why you should not come to work. You might be faking it and anyway, if you are going to die from your illness, surely you must go in to a) write a letter of apology for the inconvenience and b) surely you should give at least 2 months notice if you plan to die on them.
After all that crawling and 'I'm not worthy-ing', there you are, on your own with one cat and can't help wondering whether you will be eaten by said cat. Eventually you are able to pick up the phone again and try to make and appointment with the doctor. Obviously you must now contend with the a) unhelpful receptionist b) the fact that the doctor is not available or fully booked. Eventually you opt for ANY doctor. The first available appointment is at 16h00 by when you expect to be dead, but you take it anyway. You crawl back under the covers where the cat still lies snoring, uncaring about your imminent demise.
At 15h00 you crawl out of bed, get dressed, check that the flat is secure. You unlock the safety gate, struggle with the safety gate, unlock the door, lock the safety gate, struggle with the safety gate, lock the door and crawl to the car. You get to the car. Now you are second guessing yourself and wonder whether you had locked the safety gate and door (in your feverish state) so, you crawl back to flat, check that flat is secure, fall over the dikbek cat - woken from its peaceful slumber and crawl back to the car.
You get into car, lock the door, start the car, almost drive into the damn tree, drive through the boom, through the gate and past the security guards. You get into the street, realize you have left your purse on passenger seat, stop the car, pack away your purse, check the door (again), want to check where your knife is, but decide you are too ill to care should you be attacked and drive away. You take forever to get to the doctor because all the traffic lights are out and then you struggle to find a 'safe' parking. You park, fall out of the car, have to fight your way through vendors trying to sell you dark glasses (you have your own on ... why the hell would you buy another pair???) and car attendants all making promises of looking after your car the best (while you know they don't give a flying *f*).
Of course, by now you are almost (it is 15h55) late. You crawl into the doctor's office where the receptionists immediately proceed to ignore you. As you are contemplating whether they will help you, should you throw up in the waiting area, they interrupt this thought by demanding your file number which in your fevered state you have forgotten. Of course, it has been the most important thing in your life to remember your f*ing file number, but anyway. You eye them through a bleary, fevered eye as they stare at you reproachfully. It is of course all a lot of hoggwash, because by 16h30 as you ARE about to throw up in the waiting area, the doctor magically appears.
Through your tearing of clothes, bawling and resurrecting of the Gods, you expect her to pat you on your head at any time and go "now, now oh silly white person who has a bad lifestyle, who don't sleep enough and work too hard, we will fix this soon." You are declared sick and told to stay at home. As you envisage what people of different nationalities might look like while frothing at the mouth, you take the prescription and get out of there. After paying half of your meager salary to have been told you are ill, you swerve, while muttering, to the pharmacy (a good thing as people avoid you), where you spend the rest of your meager salary. You then swerve to your car where you pay your last pennies to the car guard nearest to your car, almost drive over him and then drive home.
EVENTUALLY you get home (peak hour with no traffic lights, your card does not want to open the gate, you get to your front door to realize the house keys are in the car - you are crying by now - the unsympathetic cat wants to be fed), you fall back into bed, exhausted by the entire experience.
Well, that was a true story. The following one is speculation as I have only experienced half of it and then some ...
BANGKOK:
JOZI:
You wake up, ill and half dead. You have to phone and apologize to x amount of people at work, explain why you haven't advised them in advance that you were going to be SUCH a pain in the ass to be sick and to give motivations as to why you should not come to work. You might be faking it and anyway, if you are going to die from your illness, surely you must go in to a) write a letter of apology for the inconvenience and b) surely you should give at least 2 months notice if you plan to die on them.
After all that crawling and 'I'm not worthy-ing', there you are, on your own with one cat and can't help wondering whether you will be eaten by said cat. Eventually you are able to pick up the phone again and try to make and appointment with the doctor. Obviously you must now contend with the a) unhelpful receptionist b) the fact that the doctor is not available or fully booked. Eventually you opt for ANY doctor. The first available appointment is at 16h00 by when you expect to be dead, but you take it anyway. You crawl back under the covers where the cat still lies snoring, uncaring about your imminent demise.
At 15h00 you crawl out of bed, get dressed, check that the flat is secure. You unlock the safety gate, struggle with the safety gate, unlock the door, lock the safety gate, struggle with the safety gate, lock the door and crawl to the car. You get to the car. Now you are second guessing yourself and wonder whether you had locked the safety gate and door (in your feverish state) so, you crawl back to flat, check that flat is secure, fall over the dikbek cat - woken from its peaceful slumber and crawl back to the car.
You get into car, lock the door, start the car, almost drive into the damn tree, drive through the boom, through the gate and past the security guards. You get into the street, realize you have left your purse on passenger seat, stop the car, pack away your purse, check the door (again), want to check where your knife is, but decide you are too ill to care should you be attacked and drive away. You take forever to get to the doctor because all the traffic lights are out and then you struggle to find a 'safe' parking. You park, fall out of the car, have to fight your way through vendors trying to sell you dark glasses (you have your own on ... why the hell would you buy another pair???) and car attendants all making promises of looking after your car the best (while you know they don't give a flying *f*).
Of course, by now you are almost (it is 15h55) late. You crawl into the doctor's office where the receptionists immediately proceed to ignore you. As you are contemplating whether they will help you, should you throw up in the waiting area, they interrupt this thought by demanding your file number which in your fevered state you have forgotten. Of course, it has been the most important thing in your life to remember your f*ing file number, but anyway. You eye them through a bleary, fevered eye as they stare at you reproachfully. It is of course all a lot of hoggwash, because by 16h30 as you ARE about to throw up in the waiting area, the doctor magically appears.
Through your tearing of clothes, bawling and resurrecting of the Gods, you expect her to pat you on your head at any time and go "now, now oh silly white person who has a bad lifestyle, who don't sleep enough and work too hard, we will fix this soon." You are declared sick and told to stay at home. As you envisage what people of different nationalities might look like while frothing at the mouth, you take the prescription and get out of there. After paying half of your meager salary to have been told you are ill, you swerve, while muttering, to the pharmacy (a good thing as people avoid you), where you spend the rest of your meager salary. You then swerve to your car where you pay your last pennies to the car guard nearest to your car, almost drive over him and then drive home.
EVENTUALLY you get home (peak hour with no traffic lights, your card does not want to open the gate, you get to your front door to realize the house keys are in the car - you are crying by now - the unsympathetic cat wants to be fed), you fall back into bed, exhausted by the entire experience.
Well, that was a true story. The following one is speculation as I have only experienced half of it and then some ...
BANGKOK:
You wake up, ill and half dead. It's your day OFF so you don't have to phone anybody, well maybe just to tell someone you feel like shait, but you don't anyway. Should it not have been your day off, they would have forgiven you and you would have just felt bad because it would have stuffed around everybody's schedule.
No cat, which makes you feel a little bit sad, but you have your teddybear and he's ok.
You crawl out of bed, grab your purse as you crawl to the door, unlock the door, lock the door, crawl down the corridor, reach up for the lift button, take the lift down where a concerned security guard will call a taxi. Said taxi will arrive and take you to the hospital where concerned personnel will assist you to the nearest doctor. You will pay with your medical card because you have medical coverage (too expensive in SA) and this will include your medicine.
So far, whether at the dentist or the hospital, my experience has been that they are organised and more than competent. The people who work there are friendly, kind and helpful. So, I pay more because I'm a farang. Do I mind? No.
The bottom line? I am not afraid of getting sick in Bangkok anymore!
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