I’m supposed to be resting. I am, I don’t have a choice. I can feel the skin swelling where the stitches are. It’s painful. I have another laceration on my shoulder. I stupidly put a t-shirt on today and the fabric stuck to the laceration, I had to gently peel it off, and it bled. So I’ve put a pad over it now covered it in antiseptic lotion.
I slept for a long time today and feel better for that. Grateful that there’s not a medley of people using their time and energy to care for me. I prefer my healing and pain in private.
I went downstairs for a late lunch. The blue skies and bustling really added to my misery. I want to take a ride along the Mekong. I want to check out a local pagoda. It’s beautiful, but hot. My skin throbs in the heat. And I know I won’t walk far before the dizziness sets in.
I know the other staff are working hard to cover my work. I feel like such a burden. I’m in this amazing place and there’s nothing I can do.
The insurance company have spoken to me on and off, the cost of calls using my NZ phone is exorbitant. NZD5 per minute outgoing, NZD1 per minute incoming. Another high bill that my husband will have to cough up for, when I’m working really hard to stay on budget. The line is bad so we’re often cut off.
I just want to feel normal again. In this state I feel weak and vulnerable. I hate it.
Part of me wants to cut the stitches out, just keep it clean and get back to the job I’m supposed to be doing. I can do a lot of it sitting down while my brain settles down after the big shake up.
I’m wasting time now. Wasting everyone’s time.
I plan to get back teaching on Monday. And later in the week get used to the Moto again, I refuse to be scared by it. It’s that plan i have that keeps me motivated. Just need to get through the weekend and my obligatory trip to a western dr in Phnom Penh.
If my husband were here, he would understand me. My need to have a sense of control, a game plan. My fears and my irrational desire to rip the stitches out. He would negotiate the hospital, put me at ease. He’d know I would never agree to a head scan. He’d help me get reaqquainted with the bike, knowing it’s important to me. But therein lies the problem, he’d do all these things and I would take it for granted. Take him for granted. No wonder he had enough. Patching me up, reassuring me, dealing with my dramas.
It’s too much for one person. Unfortunately now I’ve had to involve him to help talk with the insurer based in NZ so that he knows the costs and I’m not making expensive calls. So from miles away, I’m still causing him stress. Still relying on him. He probably feels like he never gets a break.
At least he’s forced to talk to me, so for a short time I can feel like we are united. And I get to feel less alone.
I dont have much energy now. I’m getting tired again. I’ll just sleep another day away. I want my life back. And i have to get used to the fact my husband won’t tell me, it will be ok. You’ll have forgotten about this next week.
I miss him. And I regret all the times I took him for granted.