June 13 2004
Thailand: A great place to be ill

The Pattaya bar-fly who drinks himself into a coma can't expect too many visits from his farang drinking buddies. They're too busy keeping his seat warm. His favourite Thai bar girls will probably turn up, though, and it's quite possible that they'll take turns to keep him company. Passing away with a bar girl holding your hand isn't such a bad way to go. It's certainly better than lying undiscovered of the floor of your London apartment for six months before police kick the door down.
We farangs don't like to get too close to the messy business of sickness and dying but the Thais seem to relish any opportunity to demonstrate their compassion. I've no reason to doubt their sincerity either. Thai soap operas often feature hordes of weeping relatives attending the hospital bed of someone with a sprained finger and it's a bit like that in real life too. Twenty-four hour vigils are the norm rather than the exception.
Consequently, it's very hard for us farangs to meet the care expectations of our Thai girlfriends when they become ill. The western concept of suffering in silence is unknown to them.
Yesterday, my Thai girlfriend's hair got a bit wet when I surprised her in the shower. She wasn't complaining at the time but, subsequently, her damp hair sparked a major health crisis. She reported muscle aches, sore eyes, exhaustion and a litany of other symptoms. The outward sign of her condition was a slight sniffle.
I just couldn't take it seriously and she got really pissed off. Finally, when I teased her with a display of mock concern, her vitality came flooding back and she hurled me onto the sofa with the strength of ten men before attempting to crush my windpipe with her tiny doll-like hands. It was a miracle recovery by any standards.
My previous Thai girlfriend had a genuine medical emergency so, against the advice of her family, I rushed her to a private hospital for what turned out to be a life-saving operation. It was successful but she needed a further five days in-patient treatment. I visited her twice a day but, with her head swimming in morphine, conversation was impossible. I did, however, manage to speak with the medical staff to ensure that she got the best possible treatment.
Her lazy unemployed sister, meanwhile, had set up camp on the sofa-bed of the private room and spent all day ordering food and watching TV. For her, this was hog-heaven and, as her room-service bill mounted, I was reduced to living off pot-noodles.
The final hospital bill was huge but I would've paid anything to save my girlfriend's life. The price that I didn't expect to pay came later when she was discharged. Because I'd failed to spend all my waking hours at her bedside, she left me to go and live with her sister - who was now billed as Thailand's answer to Mother Teresa. She returned the next day, of course, but I've yet to hear a word of thanks from her. To this day, I remain the villain of the piece.
Thai compassion for the living contrasts sharply with their attitude to the dead. Grief appears to be muted or even non-existent. Perhaps it's because they're Buddhists. Last month, a friend's Thai ex-girlfriend bought her hillbilly brother a motorbike. This week, her reckless act of generosity led predictably to his death ("He have big accident"). After the cremation, she took her mates to CM2 for a night of drinking and dancing. Reportedly, they had a great time.
In the West, the grieving process tends to be more intense - particularly if the deceased passed away too young. It seems that the Thais focus their compassion on the living and we farangs reserve ours for the dead.
It's yet another good reason for choosing to live in Thailand.
[Posted to Farang Life by David]
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