More Reasons to Like Bangkok

As with every large city I've visited around the world, Bangkok has some drawbacks.  Traffic and the challenge of getting around is usually my main c!omplaint, along with pollution.  Bangkok is no exception.

There are some good things about Bangkok, though.  Here are some:

Massages - you can get a massage for less than $6 an hour at a clean, quiet locals place or you can pay $60 at an upscale place in a high end mall.  The facilities may look a bit different but the experience is about the same.  I've been enjoying almost daily massages on this trip.  For about $8 I get a one hour foot/leg massage and 30 minutes of head/neck/shoulder massage. 

Health care - This is my third visit to Bangkok that focused on time at a hospital.  The first was when I got sick in Myanmar and ended up in Intensive Care at Camillian Hospital in Bangkok.  I got excellent treatment for a very low price.  The second time, I hung out at Bumrungrad Hospital with a friend who was hit by a truck in Myanmar.  He needed surgery so we came to Bangkok.  He received excellent care with the most modern treatment available in the world. 

This trip, I'm hanging out again at Bumrungrad but for a very positive reason.  Friends from Myanmar have opted to have their first baby in Bangkok because of the superior medical care.  The hospital has all the amenities you could want or need, at a reasonable price.  There's a reason Bangkok has become a medical tourist destination.

A private room at Bumrungrad is $90 a night.

People - I've found people to be overall very friendly and helpful.  The service from the receptionists at Pannapat Residence is more like what you'd get at a 5 Star Resort rather than a $17 a night room.  When you are away from the main tourist areas most people don't speak English but they generally make an effort to communicate.

Parks - Bangkok is a large, crowded city. To break that up, there are numerous parks with small lakes and walking paths.  This week I visited Chatuchak park.  The highlight, for me, was the butterfly garden.  My expectations were low but it was large, very well maintained and free.  I even got to see a small Komodo dragon wandering around.

The Butterfly Garden in Chatuchak Park.

A shady place to relax in Chatuchak Park, which happens to be next to one of the largest open air weekend markets in Asia.

Mark's Medical Adventures Continue...Bumrungrad Hospital.

Bangkok has created a new form of tourism.  Medical tourism.  Build world class facilities, stock them with top notch staff and charge less than other places and voila, you have yet another reason to come to Thailand.

Bumrungrad International Hospital is considered by many to be the star in the crown of upscale hospitals in Bangkok.  My week in the hospital was at Camillian, which is Catholic and whose mission is to serve indigent HIV/AIDS patients.  If you consider a spectrum of healthcare options, Mandalay General hospital would be at one end, Bumrungrad would be at the other and Camillian would be toward the middle.  Sort of like comparing a fleabag on Route 66 to a Holiday Inn to the 4 Seasons.

It had been a tiring and stressful trip to Bangkok and that was from my perspective.  I can only imagine how Mark was feeling, especially since we discovered that the "pain medicine" he'd been given for the trip were actually antibiotics for the scrapes and cuts on his legs and arms.

We weren't sure where to go.  Mark voted for the clinic where he'd been before.  I voted for the hospital which was next door and had an emergency room.  I'm pushy and mobile, Mark was in a wheelchair.  I won.  In the ER, though, we discovered that Mark was correct.

No matter, the ER staff took his card from a previous stay, entered him in the system, set up appointments and off we went.  Rolling through the air conditioned lobby, subtly decorated with understated Christmas ornaments and flowers was very different than rolling through dirt and fighting dogs in Mandalay.

We were whisked to the 20th floor on a glass elevator.  The only thing that kept me from saying "Holy shit!" when the doors opened into what appeared to be a very large, opulent living room were the number of well dressed people in the area.  That did not stop me from using the f word, very quietly but with great feeling on a later trip on the same elevator.  I felt it was warranted since Mark's wheelchair (with him in it) had just rolled over my big toe.

The decor seems to be going for that "We're not showing off, we just want you to be comfortable and let you know we spent truckloads of money on this place" style of decor.  By far, nicest most comfortable hospital I've ever seen.  Much more like a hotel than a clinic.

First stop was to get Mark's vitals taken in a room dedicated to that.  When they wanted to weigh him, Mark groaned because when he's sitting still the pain isn't bad.  But getting up and down is horrible.  No problem here at Rich Peoples Hospital.  Oh, sorry, Bumrungrad.  He stayed in the wheelchair while the nurses weighed him.

Next, radiology for more X-rays since the ones taken in Myanmar didn't include all his ribs.  A minor technicality.  I was asked to wait outside but from Mark's demeanor when he was wheeled back to me, it was a relatively pleasant experience.

After a few minutes wait and some paperwork we were escorted to the orthopedic surgeon's office.  He explained what he'd seen and what he thought the plan should be.  I asked questions about length of time in the hospital and length of recovery time.  I made sure to quickly let the doctor know that I was leaving for Mandalay and Mark planned to care for himself in a hotel room.

Next we got to visit a very cardiologist.  Because Mark's impact on his chest had been so severe he wanted to rule out any damage to his heart.  A quick EKG later, the all clear on the heart was given.  Because Mark and I both enjoy poetry by Robert Service I couldn't help reminding him of the one about the lady with a boil on her butt.  She went from "doctor" to "doctor" being examined when the final one told her the doctors were out and they were all just painters.

When we were told we were on our way to a third doctor, we both just giggled.  The final doctor was a critical care/thoracic guy.  His job was to determine if the damage to the lung would prevent surgery to the ankle or to figure out the best type of anesthesia to use.

Ok, we had a plan.  Surgery on the ankle on Tuesday, using an epidural.  During one of our waiting periods, we were given room choice options.  I was pushing for the Deluxe Suite on the Premier floor.  Mark was leaning toward something more modest that didn't cost more than a monthly mortgage payment per day.  He opted for a shared room/bath.  The room is very nice and no one is in the next bed so he got a private room (at least for now) for half price.

When the charming ladies provided an estimate of total cost, I thought stroke or coronary would be added to the list of ailments.  And it had to be paid before any treatment began.   That's when the real stress began.  Mark's phone charger was in another bag, which they'd kept at reception.  I would have gone to get it but it was 3 a.m. where he wanted to call and so he wanted to wait.  By that point it was after 7:00 p.m. in Bangkok.  Mark hadn't peed for about a month (and it was in another country); neither of us had eaten except for a small snack on the plane and we were both cranky.

Both of us just wanted him to be settled in a bed where he didn't have to move and could get sone rest.  And some pain meds for him and an adult beverage for me.  Eventually we were taken to his room and worked on getting him settled.  There was much to be done:  blood tests, IV ("you have small veins, let me try again"), etc.

The nurses were kind and well meaning but as in hospitals everywhere when you combine tired, hungry people in pain with busy, tired medical professionals there can be tiny bumps in the road.  I finally went to the nurses station and in the most respectful, polite way I could asked for food and pain meds.  The nurse sweetly smiled and nodded and said "Yes!  Tomorrow!"  I gently tried again.  She kindly responded "Tomorrow!"  She had a bit more of an edge in her tone and she started pointing vehemently at some papers, repeating "tomorrow!  tomorrow!"  I took a step back and tried to consider where our communication had broken down.  I started making eating motions and pointing towards Mark's room.  Then acting like I was giving myself a shot and pointing to his room.  She and the other nurses were excited - how fun, charades at 10:00 p.m.!  They got it though and I discovered she thought I was insisting on getting the paperwork back that she was going to copy.

Five minutes later Mark had food and a shot in the IV for pain.  Since I had no idea where I was going to sleep that night, I wanted to get that sorted out.  I considered just using the extra bed in the room but couldn't afford it.

I got in a cab and found a place to stay.  Mark had stayed there before.  The major appeal was that it's close to the hospital and has both a 7/11 and a Pizza Hut attached to it.  At midnight I was enjoying a slice of pizza and a cold beer.  That's when I discovered I needed to be back at the hospital by 6:30 a.m. on Tuesday.

When I arrived, Mark was up continuing a marathon session of finding a way to transfer funds so he could fork over a large amount of cash to the hospital.  It took a couple of more hours, a laptop and smartphone and the help of Mark's best friends and his investment company but a temporary solution was found, money is being transferred and now it's on to the surgery.

Once we'd gotten cleared for the surgery financially we both began to relax and just spent the time talking.  It wasn't long before they came in to move him to the gurney to head for the operating room.  Luckily, they were able to slide him from one bed to the other which was much less painful than all previous transfers.

I followed along to the door to the operating suite.  Since he was flat on his back I was describing what he couldn't see.  Like the doors to the operating room and the cashiers window just outside it.  We had a hearty laugh at that.  I'm sure these are dedicated health care professionals but there is no doubt this is big business.  There is a bank branch in the lobby with ATMs and a Western Union office.  There are cashier desks everywhere.

Now I'm just waiting to hear that Mark is safely out of surgery.  They said between 1:30 and 2:00 p.m. I'm hoping sooner rather than later.

Another Medical Trip to Bangkok - Mark O Goes to the Hospital

Sunday started out well.  Cool outdoors, quiet and peaceful.  As I was washing some strawberries I heard teachers talking outside so went out to join the group.  They were on the first floor and I got their attention, intending to toss them strawberries.  It took me a moment to realize this was no idle conversation.

Mark O had been riding his motorbike to the grocery store when he was hit by a truck.  In shock, he just asked them to bring him back to school.  The people who hit him, loaded him into their truck.  By the time I got there, he'd been taken out of the truck and was sitting on a (broken) plastic chair, holding a bag of ice on what was an obviously broken ankle.  He also complained of broken ribs.  Mark may not be a doctor but he had correctly diagnosed himself.

Aung Ko Latt, the school director, quickly arrived and we helped Mark into the back seat.  I hopped in the front and we headed to the largest government hospital in Mandalay.  We arrived about noon.  Between then and about 5:00 p.m., while Aung Ko Latt took care of the bureaucracy of police and hospital officials, Mark and I had an adventure.

It started as he was wheeled down a hallway which clearly hadn't seen the business end of a mop in a very long time.  It didn't help that there was a dog wandering along the corridor.  We reached the Radiology Department which was no less clean but didn't have dogs.  The equipment looked antiquated but worked.  I was allowed to stay in the room to keep Mark company.  I'm concerned that now I'll never be able to have children after the radiation exposure.

After X-rays we went off to get an ultrasound.  That involved a trip outside, past more dogs.  We'd learned in the ER that people didn't seem to mind brushing up against Mark's broken ankle so I was his "foot guard".  I'm sure some thought it was some kind of kinky American ritual that when  a man has a broken foot a woman is required to stand with it between her legs.  It was even more amusing for me to take that position when Mark was being moved.

After the ultrasound on the ribs, the tech handed me a clump of toilet tissue.  I looked at him with a "Huh?" expression and he nodded at Mark's gelled and naked belly.  Ah, you assume I'm the wife or girl friend.  I looked at Mark, he shrugged and I started mopping up the mess.  Mark talks a lot about collegiality but I really never thought it would come to this.

After more waiting and foot guarding, more AIS staff arrived.  We looked like a big Asian/Caucasian family with at least 10 of us now huddled around our fallen comrade.

Next on the agenda was a CAT scan.  I wondered if this was where they swung a cat over Mark by the tale, given the state of the rest of the place but we were led to a room and waiting until a large sliding door opened to a clean, chilled room.  In the center of the room was the latest model technology has invented.  It was a brand spanking new open scanner.  It was somewhat ironic that while we waited outside the room, a rat scurried down the hall.

After that test, we finally headed back to the five bed ward to get Mark settled.  AIS staff had brought bedding, bottled water and mosquito netting.  We'd seen several doctors and the last came in to confirm.   1 broken rib, some fluid in or around the lung and a broken ankle that needed surgery.  All agreed that the ankle would be stabilized so that Mark could have the surgery in Bangkok.

During all of this schlepping, we'd been carrying the backpack and extra items that a couple of teachers had thrown together.  It's fun (in retrospect and if you're not involved) to see how people think in an emergency.

How many pairs of shoes does a man with a broken ankle need?  And really, why had I been carrying around half a box of crackers and a bag of pistachio nuts all afternoon?

Mark spent the night in the hospital in Mandalay.  Two AIS staffers stayed with him and although Mark protested that he was fine alone, he said afterward that he couldn't have done it without two locals who spoke the language and were there for him.

Monday morning, people were scrambling to make arrangements to get Mark to Bangkok.  The plan was to send him alone, on a commercial flight.  I was concerned.  Even though the airline promised to take charge of things, sometimes things fall through the cracks.  And with Mark in a wheelchair he really was pretty helpless.  A decision was made to send me along.  A Myanmar staff member couldn't get a visa that fast, so I had to leave my assistant teachers in charge.

I packed in 15 minutes, assuming I'd just be gone overnight.  Remembered at the last minute I needed photos and documents from the school to get my visa when I return to Mandalay and the principal pulled those together.  The driver and I headed to the hospital where Mark was being checked out.  The parents of the man who'd hit him were there to show respect and apology for the problem.  The driver had been held in jail overnight but since Mark didn't want to press charges, he was released.

We had to stop at the police station, though, to make that happen.  Mark and I stayed in the car while the Myanmar staff took care of things.  Then, on to the airport.  We arrived about an hour before the flight.  I didn't have a ticket and the school had been told they couldn't sell me one at the counter.  Not sure what happened but a wonderful Air Asia manager took my passport, other staff wheeled Mark and we had a stress-free passage through immigration and security.  I quickly had my passport back along with a boarding pass.

But now the challenge.  Mandalay has but doesn't use jetways.  We went down an elevator and then walked/rolled across the tarmac to the plane.  We waited in the shade of the wing while other passengers boarded.  Mark and I kept waiting for some kind of equipment that could lift him up to the door of the plane.  Nope, there were four luggage handlers who were going to carry him up, wheelchair and all.

We were both leary but there wasn't a choice.  Luckily, he made it up without incident and after much pain and twisting about, was able to get in his seat.

The flight was fine and we were relieved as the plane pulled up to a jetway in BKK.  And then stopped a few feet away from it.  Yes, steps again.  We were told to stay put and we'd be the last off.  Fine.  Right up until they said there was no wheelchair and he'd have to hop down the stairs.  With a broken ankle (not yet in a cast) and broken ribs.

I refused and the two of us just sat and said "Get a wheel chair."  And they did.  The world tiniest wheelchair which would have been adequate for getting a small person down the aisle of the plane but there was no way Mark would be able to lower himself into it, be carried down and then get back up out of it.  Not having the use of the right leg and the left arm make maneuvering tricky.

We ended up waiting an hour for a regular wheel chair.  Most of that time the flight attendants just glowered at us from the back of the plane.  It was the worst example of customer service and empathy I have ever seen on an airline.  While we were waiting, we tried to make light of the situation.  Mark came up with a new slogan for Air Asia.  Building on their current tag line of "Now everyone can fly." Mark altered it "Now everyone can fly.  Some just can't get off."

Now that we had the wheelchair, the problem was who would carry it down.  Finally, they lassoed four luggage handlers.  Because they were inexperienced and it was a much less than ideal situation, Mark was in excruciating pain by the time we got down.  Where they then asked him to stand up and hop up on the bus.  He was lifted in and off we went to the terminal.  Me, Mark, the wheelchair jockey and a group of pissed off flight attendants.

At the terminal, again we had the issue of the step.  The flight attendants told the porter to shove him off.  After all, he had gravity on his side.  However, the jarring landing would cause not only pain but could cause the broken ribs to do further internal damage.  Mark stood up, swiveled and then just fell back into the wheelchair on the ground.

Immigration and luggage collection were easy since everyone else was long gone.  No one was waiting to transport us to the hospital as planned, so we just grabbed a taxi.  Less than 30 minutes later we pulled up to Bumrungrad Hospital in the Sukhumvit area of Bangkok.

To be continued...