Greg Visits From Seattle

Our good friend Greg is in town for a week. His presence is a fine gift for both Jip and me, made possible by his generous wife, children and employer, who realistically are giving him up for nearly two weeks, when you figure in jet lag.

He and I are bopping around town as if it had been our home for years -- shopping in little markets, going to the cinema, eating on the street, taking the canal taxis. By showing him around, I'm finding out how much I've learned about the city in three months. Next week I start a regular 9-to-5, so this time also feels like the last week of summer vacation.

Greg's sense is that Jip is much stronger, more alert, easier to understand, and generally in a better space than when he last saw her. I value his comparison, because he had very regular contact with her in Seattle. At least once a week, he would drop by to help Jip stretch her lower body. When she heard him walk in the door two days ago, her first words were, “Grab a leg!”

A Night at the Opera

The Hungarian State Opera was in town for a special festival of the arts. They put on Rigoletto. I had to go. Who knows when might be my next chance to hear Verdi?

At first the scene in the lobby fit the stereotype. The men sported tuxes; the gowns on the women ranged from silk to sequins to nothing more than a slip. I heard any number of European and Asian languages spoken. The sandwiches for sale at the concessions had no crusts.

But just before the curtain was to go up, several officials literally rolled out a red carpet. A fleet of Mercedes pulled up outside the front, where nobody had been allowed to drive. Out stepped the princess. Everyone else stood at their seats as she walked to her own special armchair, dead center of the VIP section. She had to sit all by herself.

After the performance, and after the presentation (“by order of Her Royal Highness”) to the singers of lovely bouquets, we all waited for the Mercedes to pull away before exiting our own seats.

Apparently the princess is a well-known patron of both western and Thai classical music. We may run into each other again.

Seen in a Bangkok Park

Better to leave them at home where you can keep an eye on them.

Reconnecting

Jip’s interest in attending the Siam Society talk the other night gives me hope that she’ll also begin wanting to see more people from her past. So far visitors have been a low priority. Not that we've had many. Usually, a guest is a problem rather than an opportunity for her.

The exceptions are family (although she told her mother to go home after three days) and people from the really old days. A gang of nurses Jip had worked with in '84 and '85 dropped by one afternoon. Jip happily listened to them, ate in front of them, showed them how she does her exercises.

A few days later, a Thai friend from her UW years came over, somebody who's been a huge help in finding caregivers and giving me advice. Jip's first words were, "You can talk to John." So that's what happened, for about ten minutes, until Jip made it clear that the visit was over.

I’ve learned the hard way that not allowing Jip power over her time can backfire. But I’d love it if she slowly began to find more pleasure in having company, or going out. My big dream is a trip south (four hours by car) to visit her 95-year-old grandmother. That is a reunion I’d love to watch.

In Seattle we were surrounded by many friends, but as Jip’s main caregiver I didn’t see other people as often as I would have liked. Now I have more freedom, but I know fewer people. It was nice to hang out this weekend with our old pal Marty, who passed through on her way back to the States from a trip to Tibet. Jip wasn’t feeling too social, but I probably talked more in one afternoon than I had throughout the previous ten weeks combined. If you happen to pass this way, you might get an earful.

Check Out This Headline: Jip Asks to Go Out on the Town!

We’ve been here ten weeks. Jip has left the apartment exactly once. I’ve proposed excursions. She has usually replied that she is too busy.

I figured that her routine was giving her comfort, so I stopped asking so often. Also, dust and smells often bother her. No shortage of those in this town.

Then she stunned me this morning. I casually said I was planning to go to a lecture at the nearby Siam Society. She casually said she wanted to join me. Like we do this every night.

I was simultaneously delighted, and worried that getting her there would be enough hassle that she would never want to go anywhere again.

But we made it there and back, despite bumpycrowdedstinky sidewalks and crossing Sukhumvit Rd. at rush hour and a sudden downpour on the way home. Bangkok has a long way to go before it is ADA compliant, but along the way several strangers were helpful to us. The lecture was fine, and Jip didn’t complain once. I can’t wait till the next outing.

CareGIVING

I’m awed by how our two caregivers keep on giving, twelve hours a day. On Sundays, when it’s my turn, I’m exhausted after about half that long. They don’t seem bothered by Jip’s randomness. Maybe it’s because they’ve never known her any other way, or maybe because Thais just let stuff roll off more easily.

Sometimes, from the other room, I’ll hear a caregiver and Jip giggling together, followed by Jip vigorously protesting something, followed by a long silence, and then back to giggling. (This disease is never boring. Maddening, yes … but never dull.)

I generally don’t step in to find out what the problem was. Jip’s relationships with her caregivers, and the solutions they evolve to problems, must and should be different from the ones she and I have worked out.

Luckily, she hasn’t shown the temper and hopelessness that upset us all so much two winters ago. Some people suggested back then that winter itself might be the problem … another reason why Thailand might be better than anyplace else we could be.

How’s my Thai Coming Along?

Well, I don’t dream in Thai yet.

But last weekend a well-dressed stranger fell into step with me on the street and asked me to donate to some suspicious-sounding cause. Without even having to think, I explained that I couldn’t, because I hadn’t won the lottery yet.

Now not only did this exchange happen quickly, but I am sure that this person understood me on the first try, because she let out a huge guffaw, and stopped following me.

More typically, I have to re-pronounce my words several times, because I’ve gotten the tone wrong. Finally the other people throw back their heads and say “Oh!” And then they re-re-pronounce the word, which of course to me sounds just like the first way I said it.

So How is Jip Really?

 

 

 

 

I rarely ask her how she’s doing. The answer might be different every few minutes. She’s not as clear about her likes and dislikes as she once was.

To me, her quality of life is better than when we lived in Seattle. She gets lots of attention, she still feels in charge of many parts of the day, and she's eating well. When she’s happy, she’s still got the greatest smile in the world.

Physically, she is doing no worse, which is a relief. I had been afraid that the heat and the strain of moving here might take a big toll. Emotionally, she goes up and down pretty fast.

There's no predicting what's going to worry her. Sometimes the apartment (or my mouth!) smells “stinky,” “dusty,” “fishy,” or “stale.” Other times she wakes up thinking about a Thai cult that she heard about before we arrived. At meals, she interrupts to remind me that I shouldn’t eat eggs or chicken in this land where bird flu was a problem last year. Then something funny will occur to her, and a big laugh will erupt out of nowhere.

Complicating the task of gauging Jip’s moods is her almost unintelligible speech. She can be talking for several minutes before I understand the big picture. Luckily, she keeps on talking almost all the time, sometimes even talking to herself when she is alone.

So is Jip any happier than she was in the States? Not really. Would she be any happier anywhere else? Probably not. Does she have a toothache? No she doesn’t! Let’s celebrate her non-toothache, and all the other things she ISN’T complaining about!

A visit from P’Su

Last Wednesday, Jip had been fussy much of the day, complaining about this and that but never getting specific. Her moods had been swinging more than usual during the previous few days. I thought we might lose a caregiver as a result.

Then an acquaintance of Jip’s, P’Su, stopped by to visit. I had met her once before, back in March when I came to scout. She’s a wonderful spirit, active in lots of peacemaking initiatives here. Her energy changed the atmosphere almost immediately.

P’Su had once helped another woman Jip knew well, by forming a hospice team for her as she approached her too-early death from cancer. On impulse I asked if she had time to help me translate some ideas to the caregivers that had been too complicated for my Thai. She agreed, and about an hour later, we’d all five had a wonderful exchange.
We talked about how pleased I was with the quick learning they’ve done about Jip’s likes and dislikes. They told us what they were still unsure and afraid about. P’Su was the perfect interpreter, because of her experience with Buddhism, and with other chronically ill people. I felt really hopeful afterwards.

It's likely that a few folks like P’Su will join us now and then for a meditation group here in our apartment. I doubt we'll meet as regularly as we did with the small Thursday night group in Seattle, but at least we'll get a start.

An Excellent Adventure

We’d been here nearly eight weeks last Wednesday when I spotted this in a local magazine: "Amazing Bangkok Cyclist runs daily organized bicycle tours of the capital. Includes bike rental, snacks, drinks, fruit, water, guide fee, boat transfers and insurance."

It was one of those sticky days when people have to change their shirt three times, and the tour was leaving in less than an hour, but I hopped off the couch nonetheless. Shortly after the group headed out, I knew it was the right choice.

We rode through back alleys, into sweaty markets, and alongside stalled traffic. Thanks to our fearless Thai guide, who stared down taxi drivers and truck drivers alike, all three of the paying customers in the group soon made it safely to a quiet temple alongside the big river, where we threw our bikes onto one of those cool long-tailed boats that ply the local waters.

Once we were on the other side, it was like a new country: jungle-y vegetation, village sounds, nothing written in English. People waved to us as we passed, and then probably wondered among themselves why we chose to be out in the afternoon heat instead of taking a siesta in a hammock under a coconut tree. Our route took us on little narrow sidewalks, raised up on stilts. Riding there required even more concentration than navigating the urban jungle we’d just come from.

A week later, I’m still revisiting that side of Bangkok in my head. I hadn’t been out of town at all, so this was just the spur I needed. The next two days found me exploring even further afield, with Jip’s blessing. If you visit us, bring bike gloves!

No Hurricanes Here

Katrina is in the headlines, which reminds me to comment on our weather.

The conventional wisdom is that Thailand has three seasons: hot, hotter, and hottest. Using that scale, it’s hotter season here. In Bangkok that means that every few days it dumps buckets of rain for about two hours in the afternoon. Nothing really stops (traffic is always at a standstill anyway); people just open umbrellas and carry on. Afterwards the air feels just a little bit fresher and there’s a nice coolness to the evening.

In between downpours, it’s just humid. Chao told me this story: apparently the ringer on his cell phone stopped working. When he took it in for repair, they told him that he wasn’t alone – dampness affects lots of phones here. The solution? Pop it in the microwave for a few seconds. Now it works fine.

The outside temperature hasn’t varied much at all since we arrived (high-80s, feels more like high-90s). Indoors, we alternate between opening the windows for a cross-breeze, and switching on ceiling fans or air conditioning. Jip’s internal thermostat hasn’t really adjusted to the new surroundings, and so she is constantly asking for adjustments: changing clothes, adding blankets (!) or whatever.

We’re looking forward to “hot” season, which should start in about a month. Meantime, we’ll enjoy the first real thunder and lightning we’ve heard for years.

What’s on the Menu

The good news is that Jip’s appetite is good and she generally likes what she eats. The bad news is that she eats the same damn thing at nearly every meal.

I’m still waiting for her to wake up and ask for something really hot and spicy. But no. Here we are in Thailand, where the cuisine varies from tangy to sweet to fiery to coco-nutty, and Jip plays it safe. Her breakfast tastes run almost exactly the same as they have for the last couple of years: oatmeal and rice soup.

Happily, her diet includes more fruit than she was eating in the States, and of greater variety. In addition to guava and papaya, she now eats lots of the huge grapefruits known as pomelos. Sometimes she has been tempted by a pink, scary-looking number known as dragon fruit (shown at right).

Alas, almost every afternoon she requests that I make her holy basil and tofu. At night it’s kale and carrots, rain or shine. Now, I admit that I do a pretty good job with these dishes (how could I not have the recipe down pat by now?), but how about some cool local seafood now and then? Instead, Jip asks for salmon.

Chao and I keep trying. He brings over new Thai delights often. We wave them under her nose. And then guess who ends up eating them?

Librarian-types Out There Might Appreciate This

On the sixth floor of a shopping mall yesterday I watched kids of all ages reading for fun. They were stretched out in many different poses; I was sipping a raspberry smoothie. We were all in a new kind of library, called TK Park (short for "Thai Knowledge?")

Some clever designer has laid out the room so that everybody fits in somewhere. There’s the “music corner,” the “book wall,” the “reading bleacher,” and a bank of computers called the “e-library.” Bright colors and lots of curved lines make the space very inviting to a young person’s eye.

Some of the kids were horizontal on huge interlocking cushions; others were fetal position, squeezed into small hexagonal cells that are suspended from the ceiling. Still others were leaning on each other, heads on each others’ shoulders.

Judging by the lack of empty seats in the middle of a Tuesday afternoon, it’s a big success. The government office responsible for this brainchild calls it a place where 21st century kids can get 21st century information. Does the mall nearest you have anything similar?

Getting the Word Out

To my ears, Jip’s speech has become mumblier since we arrived. If I’m right about that, it’s probably because the nerves controlling her mouth muscles are progressively being blocked off and fewer messages are getting through.

But I could be wrong, because I’m in that stage of learning a language where everything sounds like everything else. I often have to say to Jip, “Let’s start over,” because I’m not even sure if she’s speaking English or Thai. Happily, In Thai her words still come out fairly clear – apparently one’s mother tongue originates in a different lobe of the brain. So communication between Jip and the caregivers is relatively easy (although sometimes they shoot me a look that says, “Did you catch that?”).

How about communication between the caregivers and me? When we first met, I thought things were going along wonderfully during the day shift. Then her replacement came, and Jip was taking a nap. In my best Thai, I asked the second one to wait until Jip woke up before going into the bedroom and meeting her. They both nodded, the first one grabbed the second one by the hand, and they both ran giggling into the bedroom. So much for my best Thai.

Jip doesn’t usually get too frustrated by whether people can understand her. More often, her expression says, “What’s the matter with your ears?” But I’m looking forward to a day when I can really talk about everything I’m thinking about. I wish that for Jip, too, even though two-way conversations don’t seem to be her highest priority these days.