Either I am a bonefide jinx, am a walking magnet for drama and disaster, or just damn suay la. But over and above my generally clumsy klutz-like self, the things that have happened in my life sometimes seem SO fantastic, that they often seem untrue. So I have decided that documenting them, might actually be better.
Take for example, this shining example, that happened not too long ago. Last week in fact.
I was on a trip to Bangkok, that was meant to be a solo sojourn to rest my weary soul. The plan was, around National Day (9th of August in Singapore) my friends would fly up to join me, and we would all have a whale of a time together.
One week of my solo story went without incident, but on the day I was supposed to check out of my beautiful, plush hotel away from the city (The Siam), into the Four Seasons, where my friends and I were to reside for the next few days, I started feeling really queasy and nauseous.
During the 40min cab ride into town, I felt progressively worse and by the time I reached The Four Seasons, I knew something was seriously wrong.
My body was aching all over that I could hardly move. I felt feverish. My stomach felt strange and I just felt more ill than even when I had a bout of stomach flu. (Which, any fashionista worth her salt would tell you, is worth suffering through for the weight loss alone. And no. Kids. That was not good advice. Duh. Though true it might be. )
While I was checking in, I felt so faint I could barely stand, so I requested to be seated to rest for a while, hoping that I would feel better.
But, half an hour later, I felt even worse, and before I knew it, I was being wheelchaired into my room.
Four and a half hours later, that was exactly how housekeeping found me. Semi-conscious, dehydrated. Unable to move. Hardly able to speak. Looking half dead in bed. I kid you not, if there were vultures around, they probably would already have attempted to pick at my bones.
The only thing I had done, was crawl out of bed to pull a dustbin near me so I could throw up. Although I barely even had the energy to do that. But when I did, obviously whatever I had eaten was not agreeing with me and forcefully shot itself out of both my nose and mouth, spewing out my body like I was an extra in some horror science-fiction movie.
Alarmed that she might have stumbled upon a suicide case, Jindara from housekeeping (I think her name was) notified the front desk, who called me moments after and rushed up to my room.
I remember feeling flooded with relief because help had finally come. Khun Monrudee from front desk with her ammonia (all the better to wake you my dear) to the rescue!
She was a soothing balm with her calming voice and her gentle, but efficient ways, as she cooed me to sleep after making sure I had some liquids in me, and called a doctor in, as I couldn't even be moved to the hospital.
And guess what.
True to my "lagi suay" self... another "This can only happen to Sara" situation occured.
About 30 minutes later, I heard a British accent , male. In. My. Room.
I tried to peel my swollen eyelids open, adjusting to the warm light of the room like a miner adjusting to the sunlight.
And there he was. The doctor. Thai. Hot. Young. Brit-accented.
And there I was. City smells of Bangkok clinging to my day old white dress, that looked cute and resort- like 12 hours ago, but now just hung off me, as lifeless as my body. Let's not forget the dishevelled hair. And oh god. The pukey + dehydrated breath.
One by one, my friends started touching down in Bangkok, and when they checked in, hotel staff told them about my predicament. The first of my friends to rush to my room, worried, Dawn and her boyfriend Lars.
Grateful to see a familiar face.. I croaked out the first sentence I did all day to Dawn, in Chinese.
Subtitles: Why so suay (unlucky). When I'm so ugly, give me a hot young doc.
Dawn of course, giggled at this, relieved that I still had a sense of humour, and tried to convince me that I didn't look that bad (all in Chinese of course), and tried to ask me how I was feeling. But by then, I was drained by the excitement of croaking out that one sentence.
As I was quite out of it, I'm not sure how much time had passed, but I was told that we were waiting for the Doctor's nurse who was bringing the medication, so the doc still remained in my room, and my sister, fresh from the airport, burst into the doors.
No doubt wondering why a strange man and two of my pals were in the room, she started talking to the doctor IN CHINESE.
AND HE ANSWERED.
I did not see her face and I'm sure it must've been priceless but Dawn, my usually poker-faced legal-eagle pal was stunned and asked the doctor, "You speak Chinese?"
"Yes," he replied.
And even in my frail, groggy state, somehow I managed to pull the covers over my head in embarrassment thinking, "OMG. This can only happen to me lor.. "
Lo and behold. The doc's nurse finally arrived with the medication. Where the doc pronounced that he needed to now give me 3 injections to, and I quote "her gluteal muscle". In other words, he needed to give me 3 jabs to the ass.
And I didn't even know his name yet.
Dawn, was already quite ready to explode with laughter at this point, and went, "Ok.. We'll wait outside."
"It's ok, one of you can stay inside..", the doctor said.
"No. No. Its ok, we'll be out here.." Dawn said as she scurried out with Lars, pulling my sis with her.
30 seconds later. With my dress hiked up to my waist, my bare ass exposed to the doc - an explosion of muffled guffaws came from outside the hotel room door as no doubt, Dawn had brought my sis up to speed.
All I could think in my head at that point- Thank goodness I had on nice underwear. (A very flirty, frilly, mint green and lace concoction.) And I was thankful I had done a couple of velashape treatments at Apex- along with muay thai and yoga- my ass was looking pretty decent for a 33-year-old Ahjumma. Probably my best asset at that point to be honest. Pun not intended.
When the 3 poured back into the room, still giggling to themselves, the doc explained to them the medication he had given me for my "acute gastroenteritis"- read: severe food poisoning superbug that left my stomach as distended as a Somalian kids- before he left.
Not before highlighting that I could chew on this mint-flavoured pill that "should ease the gas" through the night.
Oh. The humiliation.
Keep calm and carry on.
"HE SPEAKS CHINESE..." the three amigos barely managed as they collapsed in laughter on my bed.
"I knooooooowwww...." I croaked. Cracking a lopesided grin before falling to sleep.
Well. Who knows. Might not have looked that bad afterall.
Had flowers delivered to my room the next day. (Thank you Khun Mon.)
And, the doc called to see how I was doing... *waggle eyebrows*
HellOoooOOOooo Dr. Sithiphon.
Oh. And my sister JUST had to end the conversation with the doctor with the question,"So doctor, if my sister is still feeling rather CONGESTED, could I give her a laxative?"
They sure know how to kill your game.
Two lessons I got from this Bangkok-belly episode.
#1 - Always. ALWAYS. Wear nice underwear.
#2 - Everybody speaks Chinese now. -_-