Perspective Part 1

Well, let me start at the beginning.

Yesterday was the first time I had my Monday classes. Due to traveling, I have missed seeing my Monday classes. My first Monday class was 50+ little hellions. They were the naughtiest students I have ever seen and they were ridiculously noisy. My usual classroom control tactics were just barely keeping the class from exploding into chaos. Needless to say, I was worn out after just the first class. Then, I get back to my desk and begin grading their work to find they are a good bit behind in grammar and vocabulary.

During lunch, I tried to pull up my mood and prepare for my remaining classes. For the rest of the day I had complete angels and in some of my classes I really feel like I could make significant progress with the students. However, I was still not able to shake the slight irritation, exhaustion and unhappiness about my student's current English level from that morning.

When the school day finally ended, I was beyond exhausted and simply worn out. For the first time ever, I left over 100 paragraphs of grading until the next day because I just could not take any more. So I am glad when 5 o'clock rolls around and I can walk home. I even contemplate getting dinner on my way home so I do not have to go back out again, but decide that I need to cool down and unwind in my room before going out again.

I walk the same route home every day. It is not a far walk at all, though my opinion as to what is a far and near way have drastically changed since I came here. I was almost across a side street, maybe a foot and half from the sidewalk when suddenly I was on the pavement. It happened so fast that I do not even remember falling. It took me a second to process what had just happened. Okay, I just got hit. Probably a motorcycle. Then I started doing a rough check of myself without moving. Okay, my head is okay, I fell into my arms. My knees and legs start to burn and sting, okay. But then I feel this pressure on my right foot. The motorcycle is still on my foot! In my head I yell, "Guys! Get that motorcycle off my foot. You just hit me, now could you just get that thing off of me!" But I did not bother saying it out loud because they are Thai and would not understand. I just kept repeating in my head, "Get it off! Get it off!" until they finally removed it. The motorcycle was still running too, because I remember hearing the motor and feeling the heat.

After they removed the motorcycle I started getting up. Three girls were apparently on the motorcycle, because they were all standing around, speaking feverish Thai and looking really concerned. They kept saying, "I sorry! I sorry!" The ladies helped me stand and hobbled me to the sidewalk where there was a rail to lean on. I look down and see that my legss are pretty scraped up and there is blood running down both legs. It was thick and really red. I had tire tracks on my right foot and some blood there too. The stinging in my right foot was getting worse.

I grab my phone out of my purse and call my companion. I had to repeat, "Teacher May, I was hit by a motorcycle" a few times, though it evolved to "A motorcycle hit me." Then, Teacher May talked on the telephone to one of the girls. A girl then got on the motorcycle and indicated I should follow. They were taking me to the hospital. I could not straddle the motorcycle because of my legs and the fact I was wearing a dress that would not allow it, so side saddle it was. As we are driving to the hospital, my phone rings repeatedly and I kept thinking, "Nope, not going to answer that. You can ring all you want but I am sitting side saddle on a motorcycle, with one hand holding my purse, tablet, and dress down and the other holding onto one of the girls that just hit me. Not a chance." But after the fifth time it rang, I knew it was urgent and answered very quickly, "Going to the hospital. On a motorcycle." Teacher May was just making sure that they were taking me to the hospital and she did not have to pick me up.

As we are driving (turns out it is a good ten minute motorcycle drive to the hospital). I watched as people stared at this girl that was driving this farang with blood dripping down her legs through pretty bad traffic. There was one point where I could tell my driver wanted to squeeze between two cars and I thought to myself, "If you scrape my legs up against a car, you will be a very dead little girl." Thankfully, she chose not to take that course of action. As we were driving, I had to move my legs and feet occasionally due to the heat of the motorcycle and the exhaust pipe. The last thing I needed was an exhaust burn on top of my other injuries.

We arrive at the hospital and they immediately get me in a metal wheelchair and take my blood pressure. They take a copy of my passport and work visa that I carry. They also take my insurance card (and people wonder why I carry that around with me). One worker at the hospital must have realized I was the farang teacher and she said, "Uttaradit Satit School?" which is where I work. I replied, "Yes!" "Teach Ong?" she asked. "Teacher May," I replied. It is funny how with tiny words you can have a conversation. Through those few words we communicated that Teacher May had been contacted and was coming.

Then they wheel me into the ER where they put me on a bed. They remove my shoes and I see that my right shoe had covered a good bit of the injury. I want to take a moment here to just say how greatful I am to my really expensive Tevas. If I had been wearing any other shoe I had brought I would have been hurt a great deal more. My Tevas took a good bit of the hit and helped protect sections of my foot from road burn. Okay, back to the story. By this time my left leg was hurting a decent bit, my right knee was smarting quite strongly and my right foot felt like it had many shards of glass stuck deep into the top.

A doctor came and he spoke decent English. "Motorcycle accident?" "Yes." "Did you hit your head?" "No." "Okay, I will examine. Say 'oy' when there is pain." He then did an examination. There was a little misunderstanding about the pain in my right knee versus foot. I tried to tell him that I could not bend my knee any further because of the cuts and scrapes on top of my knee but that my knee was fine. My foot was the real issue. However, I did not realize this misunderstanding until later. After the examination, the doctor asked if I had allergies. He only had to repeat the word about three times before I could understand. I then told him I was allergic to Zithromax. He thought to himself for a second and then nearly sang back to me Zithromax. Everything here is tonal, even English.

After that, the doctor told me that the nurses will clean my wounds and see the extent of the damage. The nurses were absolutely adorable. They wore the cute little white hats and wore stark white, ironed dresses and pant suits. Their hair and makeup was pristine. It looked beautiful. However, I was not thinking these kind thoughts for very long. They began cleaning my various wounds. Here, I can say I wept. I did not scream (out loud), but I wept more than I have ever done in public. I covered and turned my face to the wall. When the ladies were about 85% done cleaning, my companion shows up at my bedside. "Are you okay?" she asked as she came around the bedside. Then a little "oh!" and she just put her hand around my wrist.

Now while they were cleaning I was realizing something. It is in these moments that you are tested. It is in these moments when you are pushed to your limit and how you can show you are strong. I can successfully say I passed. I also realized that I learned perspective. I might have been having a rough day, but you know, next time I am having a rough day I will think to myself "At least I didn't get hit by a motorcycle on top of that!" I was then wheeled to get an X-ray. This is the point I realized that the doctor did not understand me. He x-rayed my knee instead of my foot. By then, my teacher boss, the director of the English department at my school showed up. I explained to her the situation and she spoke to the doctor. They took me back to the ER and the doctor reexamined my foot. I had realized while waiting for the x-ray that I could not lift my foot into a V, and in fact, I could only move it up and down by two centimeters. The doctor said he did not believe anything was broken and it was sprained tendons and muscles.

While in the ER, the entire English department from my school showed up, followed by the principal of the school and then the president of our affiliate University. I have to say I have never been so touched in my life. I have known these people for all of two weeks. Each of them showed their caring by holding my wrist or arm. They do not do hugs here, and honestly that is my only complaint about the whole situation. A teacher then explained to me that the girls who hit me will pay for the hospital and they brought out some crutches. I tried to explain to them that crutches are a really bad idea for me but I do not think they understand.

After I was finally wrapped up and medicated, the teachers told me I was going to stay at a teacher's house that night. Two teachers grabbed my flat key and I made a list of things to pick up at my flat. They wheeled me into a car with my companion and another teacher. The teachers asked if I wanted anything and I replied, "Dinner." It had been many hours now and I had not eaten. They asked what I wanted and I told them rice. Yes, I have been converted, I am eating rice as a comfort food. I also asked for a large coke (because real sodas here do not make me sick). They went to a 7-11 and brought out some rice and a 1.25 liter coke. It was hilarious! They told me, "You said big so we bring you big!" They apparently went to that 7-11 specifically so they could be this funny. Then we went to my flat.

Now, when we got to my flat, the teachers got out and then started looking around and speaking in Thai. Turns out they had lost my flat key. After 30 minutes of searching they could not find it. The teachers looked at me and said, "You no worry! Your face is full of worry! No worry!" This was about the fifth time I had heard that statement since before my x-ray. Mai pen rai at its fullest there. Somehow, they managed to get into my apartment and get a few things. Then they came back down, loaded up the car....and then the car didn't start. Then it did not start again. The teacher that was driving turned to me and said, "You no worry! I joke. You need to no worry!" and started the car. I think that summarizes my lesson. Thailand is bound and determined to teach me mai pen rai. Even this morning, when they still cannot find my flat key, I am not worried. I give up. Thailand is going to do what it will. I never know anymore what will happen between tigers, elephants, fires, bugs, waterfalls, tiny asian children, and motorcycle accidents.

Then, if that wasn't enough, as I was being helped around the teacher's house, to the bedroom and the bathroom and back again, I realized that I am fiercy independent and quite stubborn. Here I am trying to hobble around doing things by myself and I realize, "Mariah! What are you doing? Why don't you wait a moment and let these kind people help you? Why are you so stubborn?!" So yes, I am still trying to hobble on my own a little but for the most part letting these lovely and kind people help me. They even brought me a decorative night lamp as a nightlight for me last night and had the food I usually have for breakfast already in the kitchen the next morning. Every teacher has given me their phone number and said even at midnight they will take me anywhere I want to go. So yes, I have learned a few things, grown a lot in the past 24 hours and now I know that I will forever lose the game of never have I ever because there are too many things people can get me on now.