Let's just say, for my blog's sake, you happen to survive long enough to be able to consult medical help. You don't know the exact location of the nearest doctor. (Hell, the nearest doctor might even be a shaman.) If you do find one, said doctor might not speak your language. Once in Peru, we were at a bar somewhere outside Machu Picchu and our guide had to phone in a doctor to tend to my very delirious husband. The doctor had a highly visible hand-gun holstered to his chest to ward off would be thieves. My husband saw the gun and thought this man was coming to "put him down." I doubt anyone in the civilized world would expect certain death from a house call.
Getting sick is never fun. It's downright horrible when you are far from home. But once again China has managed to make the whole process interesting.
Eastern and Western medicine could not be more different. I knew this, but I really didn't understand this before moving to China. My first encounter with Traditional Chinese Medicine (TCM) philosophy occurred while I was chopping garlic in a morning cooking class. Sofia, my instructor, noticed I had been yawning and asked what was wrong. I responded I was tired and I did not have a chance to drink coffee. Her eyes met mine with a blank stare. She sized me up and declared that my spleen was damp. Damp spleens cause tiredness. (What? You didn't know?) If my spleen isn't damp, I am pretty sure I would be crispy-mummified. Besides, spleens can be removed. I know at least one spleenless survivor who did turn all Sleeping Beauty after her surgery. Damp spleen? I think I will just blame my husband for waking me up all night.
Fast forward to the fall when people start getting colds. My husband and I were in Chinese class and our teacher walked in completely sausaged-out she had so many coats/scarves/hats/gloves on. My husband and I meanwhile sat sweating balls in our T-shirts and shorts because in the fall the Chinese government turns off the AC when it is still bloody hot, especially on the 26th floor of a East/West facing office with no insulation. I asked if she was sick and she replied that she had left the window open and therefore got sick. I replied that she probably got sick from germs and we had to translate the words for germs and virus because she could not grasp my point. After much discussion she tentatively offered up that maybe there are two kinds of sickness: wind sickness and whatever-you-said-were-those-invisible-things sickness. I think she just wanted to get on with torturing us through class. Topic closed.
Then the Sheppard house went all Petri Dish. We were trading a variety of cold viruses when Finn got the super-whammy stomach flu. Three days later I was crawling between bed and the bathroom. I could not stand up for three days, could barely eat for another 7. I have not been that bad since Peru. For the first time since having children, I could not physically take care of them. Austin was worried.
During this time I remember waking up in a haze. Our Ayi and my friend Xiao Ran were in my bedroom discussing my state. They murmurred (all in Chinese, of course): "What's wrong with her?" "Why won't she get out of bed?" "She has a fever." "She has diarrhea." "She must have sat on something cold.""Yes. Probably something cold."
Wait, WHAT? If I had had strength, I would have shouted: "Sat on something cold? No, Finn got sick and gave it to me. He got sick because nobody NOBODY, not even food service workers wash their hands here! You know the last time I have seen soap and paper towels in a bathroom????!!!!! It's called germs, people!" Instead, I just crawled past them and blew out the last few inches of my intestines and probably my damp spleen.
When I was finally well enough to take the kids to the bus stop, several ladies commented on how thin and pale I looked (Hey, by the way, I can understand Chinese now!) I told them what was wrong and all of them scolded me for sitting on a cold surface. A cold bench or floor, it turns out, gives you diarrhea. I even found this apparent fact in a children's safety book so it must be true.
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| This comes from a child safety book published in China. It warns that if you sit on a cold floor you will get stomach and intestinal pains and diarrhea. It advises to sit on a pillow to prevent illness. It says nothing of the gun on the floor, which I would presume more dangerous than diarrhea or the other cucumbery thing that is blowing cold wind. |
Bullocks, I thought. Every last bit of it. I mean, I have done accupuncture and swear by it, but cold benches and damp spleens are the domain of the middle ages and wives tales. Come on, at some point one has to believe in science. And then I got to thinking. Our Ayi is never sick. My Chinese friends are never sick (aside from the slight one, two-day cold). Xiao Ran does not get sick and she lives in our house. Could it be that there is something to all this?
Naturally I set out to find answers. I went to my first TCM class. I learned the basic premise of Chinese medicine is that food IS medicine and that only when you are not properly fortified, lacking sleep or exposed to too much stress or the elements will your body suffer and need special herbs to bring your body back into balance. With about 5 more years of study I will hopefully understand the details, but the basic premise is sound. More sound than ignoring your body's natural needs and cycles and then spending thousands of dollars on pills to "fix" it.
I decided to put the theory to practice and made several more changes to my diet, this time crossing into the last sacred territory of MY WESTERN BREAKFAST. Now, I make and eat bone and seaweed and mushroom broth soup for breakfast. Yes, folks, my erstwhile delight of eating pastries and spooning Nutella has been supplanted with melted marrow. I sip tinctures of ginger, lemon and honey. I boil pears and lychee and make my own fruit tea. (White fruits and veggies are good for the throat and lungs!) I make sure to send the kids with as much warm food in their lunch as possible. I bought myself this triple-fat goose coat with furry hood. I wear a mask. I limit my time spent in the harsh elements. I wear fuzzy slippers at home. My ass stays clear of cold surfaces. I GO TO BED AT 11:00 p.m.--3 hours early---so my gall bladder can recover (from what I am not sure!)
My TCM lifestyle has doubled my time spent in the kitchen and seriously cut into my Chinese study time and writing time, but I am healthy, I feel good! I am rested. My gall bladder is gall bladdery! I am nourished! I...I...I...I... Wait, am I fucking sick again?
Hmph. There was only one thing left to do. Go to the freezer, eat two Haggen Daaz ice cream bars, wash them down with a Coke and get to writing this blog well into the Gall Bladder hours, that blissful time when my kids are asleep and the creative juices are flowing. Which, reminds me of the one upside of getting sick in a developing country: Ace new lyrics to the Diarrhea Song. Common' sing it!!!!!:
When you're on The Great Wall and there ain't no toilet stall, diarrhea (clap clap) diarrhea (clap clap)
When you've hiked to Machu Picchu and the Shit Gods start to beat you, diarrhea (clap clap)
When you're in Thailand, your ass sounds like it's in a band, diarrhea (clap clap).
