Monthly Archives: March 2015
It’s been windy, and we’ve had a lot of sand blowing all over the place. Needless to say many of us are suffering from sinus issues. I’ve been off balance and light headed for over a week now, but, in part, I just blamed it on end-of-term exhaustion. Then it finally hit me. I went to work yesterday and really, really dreaded it. Don’t know why I thought it’d be a good idea, but silly me thought it’d help my girls get their final presentations over with (which some of them did). Woke up this morning with a full-blown sinus infection, so I took my first real sick day. In order to get paid for this I have to go to the doctor and get a certified letter stating yep, I’m sick, so pay me (we also have a few emergency days we can use, which don’t need a doctor’s note, so it’s not as dire as it sounds). I went to the clinic/hospital suggested by my coworkers.
It was super easy to get to, and although it felt like forever I was there for only an hour. That said when you’re sick and cranky and your hearing is muffled because of your sinuses revolting, you just want everything to be your version of normal, which it will never be in another country. First off just because it says entrance over the door to the clinic doesn’t mean that entrance is meant for you — it’s meant for a shitload of worker men who are as sick and cranky as you (and looking a bit more dusty). Luckily, the security guard escorted me to where I needed to go.
Then you go through the “no husband? no family here?” drill, so you just say hey I’m going to put my new daughter (didn’t include her title of wine) down, so now one of my neighbors is my next of kin. If I die, she’ll be the first person to know.
Then you’re quickly told to go around the corner, take a right, find the lift, go to 1st floor and go to counter 2 — from a nice man who happens to have a very thick Indian accent. I can’t hear well when I’m healthy — imagine listening through clouds in your head. Luckily I found the lift, but when you get upstairs you’re in the hospital area and there is no sign that says Counter Two — but I figured it out. yay me. More people I don’t understand talk to me, but I sit next to a local woman who seems as dazed and confused as me — and we both get taken care of pretty quickly. Except in my case I’m pulled into a doctor’s room where there is already a patient being examined — whoops. Then I’m back to the ladies waiting room until I’m pulled in. My doctor is a nice lady from Sudan, but I couldn’t decipher half of what she said to me. All I know is I got my letter, my prescription and directions to go to next building, take lift to basement, get blood work and “skull Xrayed for sinuses.”
First I had to pay, which was only $13. Next building is actually going through the Emergency Room across the lane, and again a security guard pointed me in right direction — love those security guards! I found the lab easy enough, but then I was supposed to go to Xray place afterward, but I really didn’t want to wait anymore and seriously do I really want someone to X-ray my skull? I appreciate them being so thorough, but all I wanted was to go home, sip some tea and pass out. So, I skipped it, but shhhh don’t tell my doctor.
And here I am waiting for the theraflu to kick in, sharing my first doctor visit with you. Overall it was pretty easy, just intimidating because it was my first time — and, well, very foreign (for me). If there’s a next time I’ll know what to do. On the drive home I almost peed my pants because the largest dust devil I’ve ever seen popped up near a roundabout. Here’s a link to one my cousin posted, and, obviously, not the one I saw. Mine wasn’t that tall, but it wasn’t too much smaller girth wise. Dust Devil video
Hope you’re all having a healthy week! It’s now nap time for me.
How will I ever go back to a normal life? My normal now consists of last-minute hotel bookings to play and shop in Dubai, or to you know go to Sri Lanka for a few days, or to book my summer visits to Prague, Munich, Berlin, possibly Amsterdam, Hamburg, then home for a few weeks where my man is planning another trip for just the two of us.
Oh, and taking a few days off to go to Jordan to see Petra and float in the dead sea (and squeezing a night in Bahrain as well). And, having fun setting up my second bedroom for Michelle who’ll be visiting in two weeks (I’ll post pics after she sees it — want her to be pleasantly surprised). My new normal includes a very nice man from Pakistan and another nice one from Afghanistan (looking very much like where they come from) deliver and set up furniture in the room, and then sitting with them a bit to chat and drink water. Can you ever imagine this happening back home?
My biggest issue right now is keeping all of my upcoming travel plans in order. Poor me also has an upset stomach because we spent the day at work eating awesome Lebanese food and an amazing red-velvet birthday cake for a co-worker.
Don’t get me wrong … I do miss my old life (and all the wonders my home and loved ones have to offer), and there are days when I dream about what it’d be like to be back home. But, mostly, I see where I am, what I’m doing, and I hear the shit my friends and I say — the way we’re so casual about eh catching a flight to Colombo, so that we can go visit the elephant orphanage, or book a room in Dubai because eh, who wants to drive an hour home after shopping? — and I’m like who in the hell am I? Just last year I stressed over where I could afford to stay for my job interview in Santa Barbara (which, actually, turned out to be an awesome mother/daughter trip). I was bummed there was no hotel 6 within walking distance of the “really expensive” place the interviews were taking place.
The job still has its hard days, but me oh my I am a very lucky girl. Stay tuned because I’m sure I’ll have plenty more fun and amazing to share after Michelle’s visit (doubt I’ll get much chance to post much while she’s here).
Until then you can bask in the before picture of my second bedroom, which was up until last weekend my “walk in closet.” Lot’s of school work thrown in there… can you tell I’m tired when I get home from work?