The year of 2023 was a rugged, up and down, occasionally tumultuous, blur. Yes, the year did sputter along quite quickly, but not without its many hiccups and challenges. Early hospitalization bouts with dengue fever and then needing to be put on oxygen with a wicked second round of covid, with brain fog and diminishing eye sight, I was ready to punt the year into the rearview.
This view of the year seemed to be true for many in my sphere, around the world. I never (or at least try not to) look at life as happening TO me as opposed to happening FOR me. There are remnants of life lessons in each pitfall, challenge or even tragedy that I have encountered across the handful of decades I have been alive. Yet even with this positive outlook, I wasn’t really mourning the passing of the only year 2023 that will happen across this expanse of life history for our world.
At Hope House, we decided to kickoff the new year of 2024 by bringing the family, team and four super cool people visiting from the US, to Siem Reap, Cambodia, for a visit to the world renowned temples of Angkor Wat.
I love surprising the kids with fun outings; and especially the occasional overnight getaway. This destination is something all Cambodians; and many visitors, want to see & experience once in their lifetime. Perhaps it is like the pilgrimage to Mecca or a trip to the Taj Mahal, for locals. Or maybe not. Either way, it is a spectacular place to see and marvel at one of the wonders of the world.
A day or so prior to this weekend trip, I started to not feel so well. As is common in this region; and most certainly here in this “Kingdom of Wonders,” the stomach can get upset from time to time. Outstanding food sanitation methods and upholding the highest standards of hygiene hasn’t quite caught up in this part of the world. So couple that with the standard practice of eating out often, the risk of a stomach bug, fatigue and other elements kicking in, can be quite the norm.
Our 3 day and 2 night trip was packed full of great adventures with the highlight being the aforementioned trek around 3 of the more well known temples: Bayon, Ta Prohm and Angkor Wat. They really are spectacular. Except when the body is starting to crash. And rebel. I sensed I may be in a bit of trouble by the time the group finished 2 hours of cruising in and around the massive Angkor Wat temple complex in the humid mid morning climate. We planned to take a respite for lunch at that point. As I sat at lunch and got cranky, I felt something familiar creeping in. Similar to some sports injuries or the dreaded dehydration, I felt the cold shakes trying to make their appearance in my body. Or at least that is what it felt like. I have suffered dehydration previously – and it was no joy. I also thought back to a time I injured a foot in Muay Thai and the chills of shock began alerting my senses that they were on the way.
Sensing I could be in a spot of danger if I lingered in the heat at the lunch table, for once I made a healthy, adult decision and chose to hastily return to the guesthouse. If I was about to go into a bit of shock, the last thing I wanted those around me to see, was just that. I felt it better to suffer solo than freak out the 2 dozen other people with me. Within 30 seconds of jumping into my tuk tuk and heading towards the guesthouse, my body starting shaking with a cold shock. That dreaded cold shock of dehydration coupled with the loss of nutrients from whatever stomach bug had become my current nemesis. I was glad to be sitting solo in the back of the tuk tuk and would have looked quite strange shivering from being cold in the back of this open air ride on a hot, humid morning. I made it back to the safe confines of the guesthouse and into my room just in time not to puke in the hallway. And thus began the stomach clenching purging of puking so many times I got cramps in my gut. Yikes!
Fortunately the amazing woman who runs the guesthouse was so kind to bring some bottles of water and even some rice porridge, in case I could nibble on some calories. She ended up being a real life saver. She alerted me to the fact that a medical clinic was literally next door to the guesthouse – yet it would take more than an hour and a half to time this seemingly impossible long trek to the clinic. I needed to time my move at just the right miserable time. A time when I wouldn’t risk puking in the hallway, lobby, sidewalk or especially not in the clinic entrance. Man, that would really freak out the poor souls working the reception area of the clinic.
My moment arrived. I moved in the bed enough to start a brief unproductive puking fit and then rolled off the bed. I stood there briefly gathering the courage to make the walk. Mind you I also needed to walk down a couple of flights of stairs, through the reception area and back out into that dreaded sunny heat. But alas I did just that. Come to find out later that I didn’t even bother wearing any shoes. I like life better without shoes anyways.
I can only imagine what I must have looked like walking into the clinic, praying whoever greeted me spoke enough English. Fortunately they did and probably read my body language more than comprehended whatever English was coming from my mouth. I knew enough to know that I needed IV fluids and needed them quickly and badly. I explained I hadn’t felt well and that I was probably dehydrated. If memory serves, they questioned me about the possibility of covid or some other illness before approaching me to take my temperature.
I learned an incredibly useful lesson that day about how to get really quick and robust medical attention. Another thing discovered was that some handheld body temperature readers make noises when a certain temperature threshold is detected. Interesting! I remember well the faces on the 2 nurses who approached me in that clinic lobby and placed the temperature reader to my forehead. And listened as the reader alerted. And their eyes practically popped out of their heads. 41.5 degrees Celsius. That is 106.7 degrees Fahrenheit. I knew I was bad but had no idea I was that screwed. The room then became a blur of motion as I received the VIP escort into their “ICU” room where another young woman lay camped out in an adjacent bed. At least I knew I probably wasn’t contagious. Hopefully she doesn’t have SARS, the black lung or some other goodie that I can catch, was my thought. Typically my veins are a dream for drawing blood or sticking an IV into, but it became a bit like vein roulette before finally a successful prick of the needle found its way into a good vein. And the drip of the first of probably 7 IV’s started pushing its magic liquid into my vein.
The waiting game began as the medical staff tried to figure out how to get my temperature down so my brain and whatever else, stopped melting. I did have a ferocious headache and it took suffering several hours before bribing someone to bring me much needed Tylenol. *(Fine Print: I knew that Tylenol was most effective for headache reduction for me based on extensive past history, plus it is a fever reducer. Better; in my current loopy estimation, to start reducing my fever and headache). And waalaa! After 5+ hours of laying there, the headache started to diminish. The battle was definitely a serious one to get the fever down. The temperature reader continued to make it warning noise for the first several hours.
The experience was a truly humbling one. The woman who owns the guesthouse, sat for several hours when I first arrived to the clinic. She heard I made my way over to the medical clinic and came to check on me. What a true act of compassion and selflessness. Once my team and kids discovered where I was, a constant flow began to visit me – much of which I don’t recall due to being in my hazy stupor. But what I watched was a heartwarming, humbling rotation of house moms and my sweet girls wiping me down with cool rags, spoon feeding me some rice porridge and warming my heart. Nothing says “fight for your health” more than seeing and knowing your little kids depend on you. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel life was in peril. Too badly. But I do know that had I not elected to bail on the trek around the temples, I would not have made it back to the guesthouse, nor the medical clinic, under my own power. Things would most definitely have become quite difficult having to deal with the situation outside and in the heat, quite a ways away from proper medical care.
Allowing the team and my girls to care for me in this way was not an easy thing to accept. But there was no other choice. And denying a loved one an opportunity to care in a way they want to, can be harmful or unloving. I will not forget laying there and just feeling the damp rag wipe me down, listening to various prayers being uttered, hands being placed on my forehead. It was a remarkably touching experience for me and for that I am grateful to God. He allowed me to endure this experience. If God is really cultivating a life for me, then I really don’t want to stand in the way of lessons; painful or otherwise, that he is allowing to come into my path.
Life through the eyes of Eazy Wanderer 