I never wrote about the end of my trip to Asia mostly just because literally everything that could have gone wrong, did, in fact, go wrong.
Here is my story:
The last month I spent overseas was really challenging. It started in Vietnam (which still remains my favorite country); John and I went kayaking in Ha Long Bay and I ended up stepping on some sort of Devil Sea Urchin that stabbed so far up into my foot - but not quite all the way through where I could pull the spine out. He was crafty and decided the bottom of my right foot would be his home with no eviction date.
We finished kayaking because I’m obviously not going to let some mortal wound ruin my Ha Long Adventure. We drank rice wine with the locals and talked with our new ferry friends. When the sea kayak experience was over and it was time to go back to land John drove me to a hospital, and I immediately, like a small child, threw a tantrum. In my defense, hospitals are terrifying. I refused to go in. (John was not impressed with my decision) and I decided it would be an amazing idea to take a night bus the next day (well, night) to Laos and maybe on the bus ride, work up the courage to go to the hospital there.
So I did.
The drive was fun and absolutely gorgeous through the hills and mountains and our drivers were all smoking opium so that added some extra excitement to the drive. They offered me the pipe and honestly, had there not been the Spinal Cord of a Sea Urchin harpooning the tiny bones in my foot, I would have joined them. Alas, the Razor Sharp Spike was ever present. In between crying and feeling sorry for myself I made friends on the bus and we talked about adventuring together once we landed in Luang Prabang.
Once landed in Luang Prabang I went to the hospital - which to my joy was under construction. What I mean by that was there was sawdust and dirty plastic sheets everywhere. The cup they gave me for water had lipstick on it.
This is going great, I thought.
They shot my foot up with some numbing agent which was incredible painful, cut my foot open, spoke amongst themselves, bandaged me up and happily told me there was nothing in my foot. I believed them - because I desperately wanted to think I was overreacting - and happily continued my adventure with my new friends in the night market, I walked about half as fast as all of them but luckily the Laotian Night Market was so incredible with it’s smells, it’s colors, all of the clothing, tapestries and carved wooden creations, we were all walking Sea Urchin Speed.
John finally caught up with me on motorcycle a few days later and together we made new friends from Scandinavia and went bowling; my foot zinging with pain the entire time. We had a lot of other fun adventures that I wrote about in a separate blog that you can read here.
On one of these particularly fun drunk nights with all of our new friends, John and I decided it would be best if we broke up and went our separate ways. We didn’t travel the same way and even though we did have a great time together it kept feeling like petting a cat the wrong way. My foot was still hurting and at this point super infected. I knew I needed to go to the hospital again, but I didn’t trust the hospital in Laos so I figured the hospital in Chang Mai, Thailand was probably better. Because science.
John took me to the bus station, we said our tearful goodbyes and I hopped on an overnight bus to Thailand to receive better medical care. I was physically exhausted from my foot being in so much pain and emotionally exhausted from trying to make things work with John. The girls next to me were Thai and very friendly and we spoke together in the few words we knew in each other’s languages. Eventually I put my backpack behind me (we were in the very back of the bus) and was able to fall asleep despite the pothole-road’s best attempts to keep me alert and awake.
I wish I would have listened to the songs of the potholes.
I woke up groggy having finally made it to the border crossing in Thailand. We all sleepily and slowly got off the bus to wait for the next bus to take us to Chang Mai. While waiting for the next bus I had a my favorite breakfast - a cigarette and coffee- happily perched on a log like a gargoyle taking in the early morning glow of my surroundings.
Once I had woken up a little bit more I went into my backpack to look for my phone.
…
And it wasn’t there.
Weird, I thought.
I looked through all my pockets.
…
It still wasn’t there.
I looked for my credit card.
…
It also was no where to be found.
….
My heart was beating so loud I could hear it in my ears. My breath was short, I was in complete panic.
I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t want to be that tourist and have a complete meltdown. (Afterall, I’m not a tourist - I’m a traveler and yes there is a difference.)
But honestly inside I was having a Chernobyl-size meltdown.
I saw the bus I had been on that had parked in a parking lot a little ways away so I shittily-walked over and asked the driver if I could look through the area I was sitting in.
…
Still not there.
The gut sinking realization hit me, that once I fell asleep, the friendly Thai girls next to me had opened the zipper to my backpack and taken my phone and credit card. Now, this is both of our faults. This was literally the FIRST and ONLY time I had not put my phone and credit card in a safe place.
I was so disappointed.
Really fucking pissed.
And also completely fucked.
As I moved around the groups of people with the grace of Quasimodo I asked the English speakers if I could borrow their phone after sharing my story and the events that had just transpired. They let me use their phone so I logged into Facebook and was able to message John asking him if I had left my phone and credit card - just to check. He assured me I had taken both with me.
Fuck!
After what felt like hours of berating myself of how could I be so careless and stupid, the next bus finally came.
I asked my new German friends if I could follow them to their hostel - as I had no phone, no mode of communication, Google or map. Luckily I had enough Thai money from the beginning of our trip to get some snacks.
Once in Chang Mai I limped slowly after my new friends to my new home, and luckily, the universe being on my side for the first time in DAYS, the hospital was in stumble-distance.
The next morning I woke up and my right eye was swollen and red.
?!Seriously!?
So, I pathetically half-weebled, half-wobbled my way to the hospital. I entered and was greeted by the best hospital-organization I’ve ever seen. In large print English language was “EYE” to the back left, my wait time was short, but I was feeling sassy after all of the aforementioned events. When they brought me into the back they told me I needed a vision test, to which I said I didn’t, that my eye was just being weird and infected. They were patient with me, stating they HAD to do a vision test so I grumpily agreed. When asked to close my left eye and read the 4th line with my right eye, I failed so miserably they actually had to stifle laughs. They gave me some drops and sent me on my way.
I then gathered all the courage I had left and went to the next area that said “SURGERY.” I spoke with the Doctor who was very nice until he asked to see my foot. Then he was the enemy. I put my foot up and he touched it, resulting in me almost kicking him directly in the face. His eyes widened, not because of the kick, but whatever came out of the wound. Loudly stating “we need to get you into surgery right now.” I asked him if I could think about it, and he said absolutely not while multitasking faster than anyone I’ve ever seen: on the phone scheduling me for emergency surgery, asking for an assistant and getting me a wheelchair, whisking me away to my destiny.
Goddamnit.
They shot up my foot again and cut it open again. The look on their faces, the hushed gasps and non-English words were completely understood. It was bad. After I was rebandaged the doctor told me (in English) that if I hadn’t come in soon I could have lost my foot. The infection was so bad they couldn’t sew it up and I had to come back every day for 3 weeks to get it cleaned out and re-bandaged. The doctor asked me if I wanted to see the spine that he had just dug out of my foot, now in hindsight, sure I would have loved to see the Sea Urchin Death Spine responsible for fucking up the last couple weeks of my trip… but at the time I knew that I would heal way faster if I didn’t have its ugly little face, well spine, in my foot and my head. So I declined.
Yikes.
and also gross?
I made a lot of friends at my hostel - mostly out of pity - because I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t get my foot wet, so I could barely shower. Chang Mai is known as the (ethical) place in Thailand where you can hang out with elephants. Well, I know this from brochures because I couldn’t go, because I couldn’t get my foot dirty. There was an AMAZING jazz/blues bar across the street that I could go to and listen to the music; but I couldn’t drink due to the antibiotics I was on. I was not happy and cried often. Sad Days.
I did manage to board a shuttle to Pai and hire a tuktuk to take me around to all the coolest places that were drivable as I couldn’t walk on my Open Wound From Hell.
A few days later when I went to leave I discovered it was a Thai Holiday and I couldn’t get back to my hospital, I mean home, I mean hospital.
Finally, a few days later and after a lot more crying I was able to get back to Chang Mai, see my friends at the hospital, and start my trip back to Bangkok to fly back to California.
When I got home I slept for about 2 weeks. It was so difficult being back in California as everything was so starchy white, and I had gotten used to all of the colors while traveling through Asia.
Eventually I came out of my amoeba state and checked the foot reflexology chart and discovered that the exact location where the Spine Stabbed Me was the reflexology equivalent of the right eye.
Interesting.
In hindsight, this was and is still hilariously horrible.
I wrote this blog several years later, and just dated in 2017 so it' stayed next to my other Asia Blogs. But a few years ago I told my dad I was going to travel again - solo this time, and he asked “what if something goes wrong?” And then we both laughed really hard remembering the last time I had traveled overseas and how all the odds were NOT in my favor, yet I survived. Like a persistent cockroach.
This experience made me realize, if I can get through this, I can get through anything.
I also wear shoes a bit more than I used to.
Thanks for reading :p <3
