Jip's Fourth Cycle

Jip has now gone around four times on the Chinese zodiac calendar. For her 48th birthday a few days ago, she let me throw her a party, the first time since she turned 36.

So much has changed in the meantime. Back then, her dad was still alive to send her a lovely note, telling her how happy she made him. Jip was still working, and her colleagues—Cambodian, Chinese, Ethiopian, Jewish, Mennonite—each celebrated her in unique ways. Our wide Seattle care community had yet to band together as the invaluable support network and safety net that it eventually became, but those seeds were being planted, and many people from that large group turned up to wish Jip a happy day.

Yet in spite of the many changes over twelve years, Jip has hardly aged at all. She still has the skin of a twenty-four-year-old, and the laugh of a little kid. Her white hairs probably outnumber the black ones by now, but she cuts them short enough that people who meet her for the first time have a hard time guessing how old she is. She lives such a healthy lifestyle and eats such a healthy diet that she is among the fittest people I know, in spite of her disease.

On the actual day (which happens to be a national holiday here—very handy), we hosted a steady stream of friends and phone callers. Her mom phoned in the morning to say that she had been to the temple. (Jip didn’t want gifts, but it was OK that people made merit in her honor.) We stretched out the occasion a bit longer with a trip two days later to an interesting Buddhist retreat center that Jip had wanted to visit for some time.

I suspect Jip has yet to reach midlife. She’ll probably follow in her grandmother’s footsteps, as she does in many other ways, by orbiting through at least four more cycles.

Pigeon Redux

A few years back, a bird pooped on my shirt as I walked under its perch. Thais I met that morning became quite excited—jealous, even—about what they considered my good fortune. Long story short, I was encouraged to buy a lottery ticket. The ticket’s final two digits were “66,” which were chosen with the help of a Thai website to match the type of bird we presumed had hit me. (I hadn’t been sure, but we all guessed that it was probably a pigeon, the most common urban species.)

That ticket didn’t win. I thought to myself, “bad luck.” But the folks who had advised me thought, “wrong species.”

Fast forward to last week. Some workmates and I were at lunch, sitting at a covered outdoor cafeteria. Three pigeons were perched on a light fixture above our table. This time the victim (favored one?) was my friend Somboon. When I saw the poop on his shirt, I knew he couldn’t lose. After all, we had a positive species identification.

We saw a lottery ticket seller on the walk back to the office. Somboon decided to go out on a limb and bet on the final three digits (the more you match, the more you win). He went for “366,” on the thinking that there were three pigeons. Word spread quickly, and before the day was out, another ticket sporting the same number was in the hands of Tay, the housekeeper on our floor. I gather that she takes her lottery science quite seriously. The day of my mis(?)hap, she too had put down 80 baht on “66.”

Back then, of course, she and I were both denied. This time, it seemed a sure thing. Somboon is engaged to be married in a few weeks—how bad can his karma be? Plus he had experience going for him, and witnesses, and the fact that the poop landed on his shirt and not in his meal.

The winning numbers are drawn twice a month, on the 1st and the 16th, during the afternoon. Because the 16th was a Friday, I didn’t hear confirmation of the victory we were all sure was coming until around noon on Monday. How was I informed? By the housekeeper presenting me with a free lunch, out of gratitude for my role in her big payoff. How much did she and Somboon each win? 4000 baht ($120)!

Somboon’s jackpot won’t make too big a dent in the cost of his coming wedding. But for Tay the payout was nearly half a month’s salary. Not a bad return on investment in these tough economic times.

Lesson Learned

Lots of good running this month, as the annual Angkor Wat half marathon gets closer. A few nights ago was the annual midnight run. It’s kinda gimmicky, but when else are you going to have a good excuse to wander the streets at that hour on a Saturday night with three or four thousand other people? That afternoon, I mentioned that I was going to run it to a teenager I know. She recommended a certain energy drink as my secret weapon.

I ignored her advice until about 90 minutes before race time, when I was tempted to bail because of serious yawning. But then I thought of my soccer mates who would be waiting for me at the start line by pre-arrangement, so I sucked it up, stopped in at the Seven-Eleven around 11:30, pounded said drink, and…

…surprise!... proceeded to run one of my best times ever. The next day I was still flying high. Briefly I was fooled into thinking that I was invincible and could do whatever I wanted to my body without consequences.

But I am not invincible. Sunday afternoon, I donated blood at the Thai Red Cross in honor of Jip’s upcoming 48th birthday (Thais donate blood to make merit). As I walked out of the center, I wondered if I had been wise to choose that day to give. I was already sleep deprived from the race. Then I was going to have to get up several times in the middle of the night as part of my weekly turn to take care of Jip.

And so what did I do to offset any possible ill effects of not having enough blood in my system? Back to the energy drink.

This turned out to be a bad plan, as you could have foreseen, because even though I sailed through the evening with Jip showing no signs of fatigue (the stuff really works), there was a sort of hangover effect on Monday, which luckily was a day off for us government workers (Columbus), but unluckily fooled me yet again.

This time the foolishness was figuring that as long as I was sleepy, I could go for an afternoon massage. Thai massage is great if you have no toxins stored up in your tissues. Or if you have a normal amount of blood to flush those toxins. But I had two strikes against me, having pounded two energy drinks in two days. By Monday night I was hurtin’ for certain and by Wednesday things were bad enough that the wisest course of action seemed to be staying home all day and basically vegging, which in these parts is known as what goes around comes around.

Lesson learned: ignore teenagers’ advice at all costs.

Bowling Night

Two workmates organized a charity event that attracted nearly everyone from our floor to all ten lanes of a local alley on a Thursday night. We raised more than 24,000 baht (over $700) for a nearby orphanage. The evening was a reminder of why working at the same place is still fun and satisfying, just over four years since I started there.

My responsibilities have changed enough during that time, along with disease priorities in Thailand, that most days still feel new and challenging. Recently the emphasis has moved from providing domestic assistance to exporting some of Thailand’s public health successes to neighboring countries.

The work remains important, yet it isn’t intense enough that I’m consumed by it or forced to choose between spending time on it and spending time with Jip. Last month, at a planning retreat with most of my colleagues, I looked around and felt really lucky to get to work and play with so many good people. On bowling night, I re-realized that landing this job was a big score.