I've been shot

Last year, I discovered that I have bursitis in my hips, which totally explains the whole Grand Canyon experience. I started having problems again last month, so I an orthopedic doctor this week.

Now I have to tell you about Dr. S - she is a tiny, spunky Indian woman, who has seen and operated on almost half of the personnel in the Pacific Rim.

I was having lunch with some friends and fellow Dr. S patients the day before my appointment, so they, Mom #2 & Mom #3, decided to accompany me to my appointment as "family" support. Mom #2 needed to have some stitches removed for an earlier Dr. S surgery, so it was going to be a very productive morning at the doctor's office.

So while Mom #2 is getting her stitches out, Mom #3 and I go in for the consultation with the doctor. After the initial discussion, of course, Dr. S wants to take a good look at the hip. Mom #3 is now seeing a whole new side of me. Granted I've seen her right after surgery, so I think we are even. It's amazing how "medically" close you become when living overseas - discussing illnesses at the dinner table, sharing the latest remedies for various forms of . . . movements.

Now Dr. S begins pushing on my very sore hip and asks me which spot hurts the worst. You would think doctors would learn by now that once you start that it ALL hurts. But she did find her answer when I nearly jumped off the table. She then suggests a shot of steroids to help with the pain and to calm down the muscles and other things. I'm thinking . . .that sounds nice and that it will be like getting an immunization shot. I should have clued in when she said she would give me a bit of local anesthetic first. It really hurt, but then I found that the anti-inflammatory meds she gave me work really well.

I am now doing exercises to strengthen my leg muscles and trying to "take it easy." So, now taking people on walking tours of my island for awhile. But I think I've also learned that I've got to cut back on one of my favorite hobbies. No, putting together jigsaw puzzles have no affect on my hip - my other hobby - driving and singing really loud and off key. I've found that driving a standard in traffic really aggrevates my hip. All the more motivation to do my exercise.

Here, let me help you with that

I often wonder why it is that I struggle so much with new foods, but this story might help shed some light on that subject.

I went to a friend's house last month to celebrate the end of the fasting month. The main celebration activity, besides karaoke, is, of course, eating. I sit down at the table and my friend begins telling me what the various dishes on the table are. This can be a blessing and curse - knowing which dish is lung and which one is regular beef is nice. But then there are the times when all the dishes are weird and you just don't want to know. She points to the chicken dish for this year and excitedly tells me that this is a special type of chicken. Her sister-in-law leans over to tell me, in a very happy tone, that they call this "retired chicken" because it's really old. She then proceeds to plop a big ole piece on my plate. I poke at the piece with my spoon and declare with relief in my voice that I must have just gotten a piece of bone, so I move onto to some newer pieces of meat.

I'm doing just fine with the safe dish I found on the table when the sister-in-law reaches over to my plate. "Let me help you with that," she says as she begins to pick of miniscule pieces of meat off the retired chicken for me. I thank her with a smile knowing that I know HAVE to eat this chicken. OK, granted, it wasn't absolutely horrible, but my stomach did let me know that it was done taking in anymore new foods.

Language Study – Day 28

Motorbike lesson #2. I think my ambition for being able to say I can drive a motorbike has waned since it took me more than a week to get “back in the saddle.” I think it was also the nightmares about trying to stop on really steep hills and rolling backwards. But I finally gave it another go. But this time I was even prepared with a helmet. Bright blue, as if I didn’t stand out enough already and it only cost me $1.45. Again . . .Mom, Dad . . .breath.

This time I also felt more in control and smoother in using the accelerator. It’s funny/scary how much you have to adjust when using the same hand to control the gas and brake. This time I actually followed my teacher out into light traffic out of the neighborhood. I even got up to 40 kph, passed cars, dodged people and potholes. I did chicken out when we got to a main thoroughfare though. People are a little less patient with “a learner” there. So, I at least have the basics down on how to drive a motorbike and can do it if I find myself in a pinch. I wonder if that is a skill that I should add to my resume . . .

But here is the big question: Is it thrilling or disconcerting when you go over a speed bump fast enough to bounce yourself off the seat? Discuss amongst yourselves. . .

Language Study – Day 26

I knew it would happen eventually. I had heard stories about it. It happens to everyone in some form or fashion. Yep, the complete maddening feeling of utter confusion. It creeps up on you slowly, and before you know it, you are over the edge. We were learning how to tell time, which sounds easy enough. And for the hour to the half-hour it was a breeze. But once we got past the half-hour everything started to fall apart. I tried to keep it all together as long as I could, but eventually the confusion took over and I just had to cry it out. Now keep in mind that this is a culture of complete non-criers. My instructor was a little flustered about what to do to help. It’s funny now . . .also at the sound of tone the time will be jam setenagh delapan malam (7:30 p.m.).

Language Study – Day 23

You would think that when your next door neighbor and mom away from home comes for a visit that you would have a nice relaxing lunch and day of shopping. Not so, when she is also a language consultant and evaluator. She definitely made me work for my lunch.

The first test was buying a basket. Step 1: figuring out the word for basket. Step 2: trying to say that I want a small, square basket. Step 3: asking for a discount. Here’s the irony, the next day’s language class include shapes and information on bargaining and discounts. We did have success though, she did get a basket.

As we were leaving the shop, she gave me the encouraging pep talk: “Wow, you can say a lot more than I thought you would be able to at this point,” and “I only saw you turn red once, but it didn’t last very long.”

There were several more tests along the way as we shopped and took taxis to different locations. Most of the folks I talked to knew enough English for her to ask, “so, do you understand my friend when she talks to you?” I held my breath as I waited for a yes or no. . . Got all yes’s. Yippee Skippy!!

Language Study – Day 16

The one culture shock I have experienced here so far is my lack of easy mobility. My lovely coordinated, structured, timely, air conditioned bus and subway system is gone. Also gone is my nice flat land. The hills around here are better than a Stair Master. The easiest way to get around is by motorbike. They can easily navigate through traffic jams and all the one way streets and narrow lanes. So, when I was told that there was a motorbike that wasn’t assigned to anyone and that lessons would be provided, I jumped at the chance to learn. Now I have ridden on motorbikes in several countries now, but I have discovered that riding and driving are completely different. When you realize the responsibility required for remaining upright, you gain an all new appreciation for the four “walls” of a car. My first attempt – made a good run through my neighborhood . . .in first gear . . .top speed of 20 kph . . .only fell into one ditch . . .minor bruise, no blood.

Mom, Dad . . . breath.

Language Study – Day 14

17 August is Indepence Day here. The English Centre here held a celebration the following Saturday, and I decided to dive deep into culture by attending. I had heard about silly games. I can handle a 3-legged race, pie eating contests, etc. . .but I discovered a whole new level of holiday games. . .eels. Yes, those slimy little suckers are a big part of a much anticipated annual game. Of course, being the foreign guest I just had to participate. The people here are so friendly; it is extremely hard to say no, as you can see from the pictures. In fact, one of the guys who helps run the centre teased me about seeming like I was having a hard time fitting in and getting along with others. I think I was in every picture that was taken that day and talked to pretty much every person that attended. It was a great day, and I even managed to practice my language while trying to figure out how to handle an eel.

Allison, one of my teammates, with the hand-off. Yes, they are alive.















The bottle I had to get the wiggly little suckers into after the hand-off. We lost by one eel . . . thank goodness.