These past two weeks, I learned a lot about not taking small things for granted. Things I have every day that seem like nothing because most of the time I ignore them as a blessing. A simple and quiet morning, breathing effortlessly after waking up, a normal taste bud, no allergies to food, a healthy body, having a job and earning money, etc, etc. Those are all invisible, yet a big blessing for life.
Lying on the blue bed in the private ward for four days last week with terrible malaria was a nightmare. I had the same sickness before, but this time it was something else. What I mean is it was a dreeeeadful malaria which made my whole system scattered. Trembling, serious fatigue and loss of appetite were a few to mention. I was relieved and thanked God that it wasn’t cerebral malaria (God forbid – knocked on wood). When I was there, trying to kill time every night by staring at the ceiling with a needle stuck on my right hand for the IV drip, I had those thoughts about death. About things I’ll face in the grave, about those who have left me, about how it feels when the soul leaves the body, so many thoughts about those. Also in the other hand, imagining how hot pepperoni pizza would be so good to be paired with a Diet Coke with ice in the afternoon, a hearty, simple breakfast in the morning with a cup of warm chai latte, or even having a cup of cardamon tea and a slice of blueberry cheese cake with series of Netflix on Friday night, all those simple times of eating well and “live-the-moment” when I was fit as a fiddle. A thought of those past travelling moments where I stepped in different places with some special people that now all seem like my forever treasure chest of memories. All were flying in my head while I was patiently fighting to come back healthy.
If I flashback, that was the second nightmare I experienced this year. The first one was a surgery at 2 AM, an appendectomy in February. It was really an experience in itself. Trying to get to a hospital where they could do the surgery that particular night, after going to three different ones, where I ended up signing the documents with a perplexed mind and a stupid question of “Is it that serious?” to the surgeon. The grave moment that happened in the blink of an eye. Wearing a surgical gown, feeling grateful on day 3 when I finally had a bowel movement, eating only steamed broccoli, avocado, banana and other greens after being discharged, all were written in my life history of 2025. Facing the fact that I overcame everything in 6 months of recovery was something I had to be grateful for. Truly, health is wealth.
After I was discharged last Saturday from the hospital and got a week of bed rest, I learned that the only one who can take care of yourself is you. The only one who could feel your body if anything was wrong. I honestly had mixed feelings when I heard from the doctor who took care of me, who said that I had to take a serious rest for a week because I am still in the middle of preparing for a big project in early December. But I am happy that I followed because to be disobedient was not an option. Having a full week of rest to get my power back is the best choice, and I took it to prioritise what matters.
During my week off, I tried to rest very well by having enough sleep, taking meds as prescribed, and eating while trying hard to get my appetite back with some help from vitamin B complex. Having enough time to do video calls with my mom almost every day for an hour plus – I could only do it on Sunday if I don’t have work outside – was one of those things that kept me sane during the recovery. Talking about random things, from how Kyoto is and others, how it was going with our neighbours, until the missing feeling of what I have in Indonesian food. The last one is the most hurtful because this time around, I really do miss Indonesian food so badly. From the ones cooked by my mom, or those that we can call street food. I never felt this feeling so badly before, perhaps because I never travelled for 25 months, or it could be the mixture of “I am recovering from this sickness, and I really want to pay for what I missed from those horrible, tasteless hospital food” and “I really do miss my family, I miss Surabaya” sort of. There was one night when I had to open this post on “oh-so-old MacBook” of mine and lingered upon with imaginations of the taste of each dish. Damn, I am really craving Indonesian food, not even funny. I talked to my mom about when I reach home next year – fingers crossed – I promise to pamper myself with delicious Indonesian food as much as possible every single damn day. I am talking about pecel, batagor (this one I could eat every day for the rest of my life), rawon, soto ayam, Maduranese-style fried duck, rujak cingur, sate karak (I am not touching beef intestine, but this food is an exception), es campur, bakso, damn if I keep writing the list, I won’t be able to finish this post. I am really hoping that my plan to travel back next year will be smooth sailing.
It’s incomplete not to interpret my feeling of “yearning for home” without some of the food pictures I found in my iPhone gallery, which I took during my trip to Indonesia. Oh hi, it’s been 764 days since my last post on this blog :)
I hope everything is well with you guys. I wish you all good health and happiness always!
goofydreamer 