Sick Day

I took my first sick day today.  I’m not sure that I actually have “quote-on-quote” sick days, but I woke up this morning and decided it wasn’t going to happen.  The coughing at night is getting ridiculous.  Kaz left for a two day trip to Halong Bay this morning, so I figured it was a good time to visit the International Medical Clinic and clean the house.  First of all, I haven’t been adjusted in about 75 days, and that alone can run down a body.  I usually like to be adjusted at least once a week.  I am highly anticipating my adjustment next week when the dudes get here.  The thing about Winter in Vietnam is that it’s really not that cold; but there’s something very cold about it.  It doesn’t feel much different than September or October in Seattle.  So maybe I dress tougher than I can handle, especially when jumping on a motorcycle with wet hair at 8:45 am every day.  I bring my own helmet, which has a windshield visor, and this I love.  There is nothing like trying to blink something out of your eye for the last three miles of a motorcycle trip.  But I see that a lot of people are wearing their face masks.  This is something you never see in America, unless you happen to pass my mom mowing her yard on her John Deer.   The masks come in all sorts of prints and patterns, and now that I think about it, so do the helmets.  The ride to work is a moto fashion show.  I guess I just don’t really believe that they keep out the pollutants.  In rush hour, there is enough exhaust in the air to outdo garage suicide.   So maybe I’ll start wearing one. 

At the clinic they give me an intake form and I head to the only open seat.  The lady next to me immediately stops her conversation and faces me, looking from me to my form.  I pull the form in real close to my body, which over emphasizes my “upside down left hander” writing style.  She slowly leans back until she is even with me and cranes her eyes to see what I’m writing.  I set my pen down and I sarcastically turn my head to look at her.  She stares at me.  I stare at her.  Chicken.  I win.  She turns back to her friends, and I know what she is saying.  Left handers are like mutant life forms here.  I am used to every single patient exclaiming to my translator that I am writing with my left hand (in Vietnamese).  It’s really funny, because 80% of my “white” friends here are left handed.  My conclusion?  A.  Left handers are more adventurous.  B.  Vietnamese are not allowed to grip the pen with the left hand from an early age.  But who knows.

The doctor tells me that my throat is inflamed and he wants to test for strep and influenza.  The nurse comes at me with two very long q-tips, and apologizes in advance.  First she sticks it down my throat and swishes it around until I am gagging and tears are starting to pour out of my eyes.  Then she says she’s REALLY sorry, and basically sticks this q-tip up my nose until I’m sure it’s touching my brain.  As she’s telling me to relax, I’m struggling out of her reach like a squirming two year old.  I’m even squealing, “Nooooooo!”  That has got to be the most traumatic thing that’s ever happened to me.  Blood and guts stuff makes me really queazy.  So when she says, “Don’t blow your nose too hard, you might blow blood,” something happens to me.  I know this feeling; like I’m about to faint.  She tells me to go wait in the waiting room, and I barely make it to a chair.  I slump over the side of it, and I can feel my whole body starting to get really hot.  I’m struggling with my jacket with my head lolled to one side.  Breathe breathe breathe.  Things start to return to normal.  The doctor comes back.  The tests are negative.  I have a cold.  And it only cost me a hundred and fifty U.S. bucks.

I probably cleaned my apartment for a solid five hours today.  It gets dusty fast!  I rearranged all my furniture (what little I have), and did loads of laundry.  I hooked myself up with a heater to dry the things I need to use immediately.  Otherwise they could hang out for days and never make any progress to dryness.  I started to weigh the pros and cons of going out to eat at around 4:30 pm.  Pros: It’s fast, cheap, and delicious.  Cons: It’s pretty cold outside, and if I can’t find the eat spot five blocks away that my friends are always raving about, I will have to continue on to my favorite spot about a mile away.  After looking sheepishly into my tiny fridge, I put on a hoodie and a jacket and set off.  Instead of walking all the way around the very large block to the next main road, I decided to go through the heart of it.  There are narrow dark alleys with tall homes and shops which wind haphazardly into nooks, crannies, dips, and turns.  I run through here quite often on my way to see friends in the neighborhood, but it struck me tonight how freaked out I would have been to take this walk upon arriving in Hanoi.  I literally chuckled to myself as I came around a corner and saw a man standing next to his motorcycle wearing black gloves with his mask covering his face and his black hat pulled down to his eyes.  Tell me that wouldn’t freak you out in the states!  But again, masks are commonplace.   So I jauntily continued on and successfully found the Bun Cha place.  They serve me Bun Cha at work about once a week on my revolving street food menu.  The chopsticks don't taper and are not even the same length.  I expertly squeeze some lime juice on them and wipe them off with a napkin.  Here is what the view from my seat looked like:

Here’s the dish at work:

When I got home I watched one episode of Summer Heights High that I’ve been downloading today on iTunes.  I haven’t turned on the TV but once in my apartment, but I have spent a small fortune on iTunes.  Home shows keep me sane and remind me of the people I loved watching them with.

Lastly, in the events of the day, I had quite a few bill collectors come to the door.  They can tell if you’re home from how the lock hangs.  Here are my bills:

One huge water jug (like the old cascade clear deliveries): $1.75

Water bill (showers and laundry): Also $1.75

Internet and Cable Bill: $4.00

Electricity: $3.00

Can’t really complain about that!