Strange Days

Only I would have the bad luck to stop smoking and make a pledge to have one more night of monstrous alcohol consumption before taking a day of rest and then getting back to the gym and the life of health I led before only to be hit with a an illness—or more appropriately illnesses—that absolutely levelled me. I always knew clubs were a bad idea. Really though, I just never knew how bad they were.

I reluctantly went out Saturday night after I had apparently promised to do so. The only problem with the place, Colours, is that it’s outlandishly overpriced, full of smoke (bad for the newly smoke-free), rife with working girls and cocky fools that really have nothing to be cocky about. That said, the house band can fucking play and not only that, those boys are metalheads at the core. Before I lost all awareness of my surroundings they ripped out ‘Ace of Spades’ so there you go.

The last vivid memories I have are of the bartender pouring Finlandia down my throat from above, me instructing my goddess’ friend to get her home safely, fumbling about outside for a minute, paying the parking attendant some stupid amount of money just because and then falling into bed. The rest has been erased if it were ever even recorded in my vodka-drenched brain.

What is vivid though is how I felt when I awoke Sunday morning. I was sure it was just a bad hangover so I did what anyone does and guzzled some water, took a whiz and went back to sleep. When I felt worse the second time up, then the third and then the fourth, I knew something was up. When I never even made it outside of the house on Sunday, that should have been the sign but you know how guys are: we just aren’t all that intelligent at times.

I shovelled down some food, pounded the fluids along with some meds and just went back to sleep. Hell, I even pounded out a day at work Monday like this! Granted, I wasn’t all there and was absolutely freezing—another hint since I’m in the fucking tropics—but I made it till the end. I slammed down an unearthly amount of food, guzzled some water and retired again for the night. Tuesday wasn’t much better so with a little pushing, I finally decided to go to the hospital. It all gets interesting from there.

First, I went by myself and did everything by myself. Not that it’s all that difficult but when you’re in another country, have to use another language and aren’t really sure if what you’re getting is up to par and what not, it’s a bit daunting. I more or less just put my trust in the system and let the cards fall. I didn’t expect much except an exam, maybe a blood screen, a trip to the pharmacist and then back home to sleep again. When I got nailed with “you need to stay overnight” it didn’t really register so I had the doctor go back over the results again just to make sure what I was reading and hearing was correct. In a jiffy, I was getting prepped. It all happened that fast.

Now, I was fine up to this point with just letting things be but then it was the typical garbage of “I’m not a health professional at all but you’ve most likely got Dengue fever because you’re foreign, it’s happened before and you’re symptoms resemble it” and I just wanted to blow my lid. They didn’t test me for Dengue, never mentioned Dengue so where was this shit coming from right? I just wanted to say, “I brought myself here, checked myself in, did the consultation, all the talking, went to the lab, read it, checked it and had it read again. What part did you think I missed?” but I just kept my mouth shut as to just get things moving.

Now, I’ll say this much, if you’re ever in Surabaya, Indonesia and need medical attention, I can’t say enough about Siloam Hospital. The staff, nurses, doctors, food and really just all of it has been great. For the record, I’m writing this while I’m still here. Anyway, aside from the Prince of Snores and Mr. Hacks-up-phlegm-a lot, it’s been relatively great in my own weird way. Only I could find something appealing and interesting about being in the hospital, possibly dying and making jokes out of the whole thing. Fucked up eh?

While I can’t say I’m saddened to leave, I can say that it’s going to be weird going back home. Once you’ve spent a couple of nights in a place, you start to adjust to it no matter how shitty it actually is. Not that the place is shitty but honestly, who in their right mind—save for possibly me—actually wants to spend the night in a fucking hospital? I reckon not too many people.

Anyway, I don’t have Dengue fever (thank fuck!) so I don’t have much of a crazy story to tell to be honest. It’s really just been kind of an interesting experience. The camp and absolutely hilarious doctor was a welcome addition to my life for sure. The attendee physician who examined me as thoroughly as any doctor ever has was a shocker as well. Getting fried rice for breakfast absolutely kicked ass. You know, the US could learn a thing or two about food service from the Indonesians that’s for sure. I actually thought that working as a dietician here might be interesting and I never thought I’d say that again!

Leaving and walking across the street for coffee when I wasn’t even supposed to leave only to have the cute nurse call and ask me to please come back was great too. Hell, just having visitors willy-nilly and at all hours has been great as well. Dare I say it but this has kind of been fun!

Anyway, to wrap this horseshit story up, I guess I’m getting out of here tomorrow morning at some point. I’m going to miss my little corner bed but it’s time to get back to normal life I suppose. That and I need some shitty KISS videos and some proper dodgy food to spice up my life a bit. I’ve been deprived of both for far too long while I’ve been in here. Take it sleazy.