Two weeks ago, Jeremy and I took a trip to Laos. A highlight of the trip was our afternoon at Kuangsi Waterfall Park. After a morning spent visiting Buddhist temples, we appreciated the switch from manmade to natural beauty.
We spent some time trekking up to the actual falls, then stripped down to our bathing suits to take advantage of the natural pools of the river. An entertaining addition to one of the pools was a rope swing, from which adventurous swimmers could jump from a tree into the cool waters. Jeremy demonstrated the cannonball approach. I went for the less graceful split-leg pencil.
Upon surfacing from my jump, I noticed some strain in my finger. In the process of letting go/slipping from the rope, my middle finger had a run-in with a knot in the rope. I flexed my fingers, felt discomfort more than actual pain, and continued enjoying the pool. If I had hurt my hand, there wasn't much I could do about it at that moment, so I might as well enjoy the water while I could!
As the day continued, however, the discomfort did change to pain, and was joined by swelling and bruising. Once we got back to Phnom Penh, I visited the Embassy medical unit, and eventually got an x-ray that confirmed the source of the problem: a fracture.
Due to Phnom Penh's lack of medical facilities to deal with broken bones, I was sent to Bangkok for treatment. During my consultation with the surgeon, he recommended outpatient surgery under local anesthesia to implant a plate in my finger. Sounded good to me, so this morning I showed up at the hospital for surgery. Realizing that I would be awake through the procedure and having absolutely no desire to see any of it, I brought my sleep mask with me and put it over my eyes as soon as I laid down in the operating room. Immediately I wished I had brought my Ipod, because even though I couldn't see, I could still hear everything going on around me and had nothing to distract me from drawing my own conclusions of what was happening. I'm telling you...it is very disconcerting to be aware of the doctor pulling, pushing, and prodding away, even though I couldn't feel any pain. In a desperate attempt to think of anything besides what the doc was doing to my finger, I mentally counted from 1 to 100 in Khmer (the Cambodian language), sang song lyrics, reviewed what I could see/do in Bangkok before I leave, etc. I was also thankful that I don't know a word of Thai and couldn't understand the staff talking to each other in the operating room. Relief flooded in when doctor said "all finished."
Despite the oddness of surgery under local anesthesia, I was impressed with the professionalism and customer service of everyone at the hospital. I especially love that some of the nurses still wear cute, white nurse's caps!
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