Absent-minded me (aka The Great Pill Hunt)

Being a worry-wort, I put my rash pills in the top pocket of my work shirt last night before heading off.

I am supposed to take a couple of pills after every meal, and I have an evening meal at work.

Being absent-minded, I discarded them some time during the evening as I was talking to someone.

But who, and where? I pass many rubbish bins in the course of my night. We live in a paperless age, supposedly, but not where I work.

The doctor urged me to finish the whole course, so we could kill off the fungal roots. So, thanks to my absent-mindedness, tonight I will have to go back to the doctor's clinic and ask for more pills, to replace the ones I threw away.

I didn't mean to chuck them. I suspect I was having a tense or animated conversation with someone, and reached into my pocket without being aware of what I was doing.

I found the plastic baggies (as one reader called them) in which doctors here prescribe medicine. Thinking they were rubbish, I tossed them.

I discovered my minor loss last night when I returned from work. My fading memory served up an image of myself folding up the bags and throwing them in the rubbish.

Needless to say, I looked everywhere...for the 100th time, my shirt pocket; my work bag, my trousers, the rubbish bin in my room. Nothing.

Once upon a time, such a minor loss would not have concerned me. But as I get older, I worry more. If I see a sponge in the wrong place by the kitchen sink, I will re-align it. I like my environment to be just right.

I called work to ask someone to check the bins. Kindly, he obliged, but found nothing.

A week from now, I will find them somewhere else entirely, and will discover I did not throw them out at all. It was all in my imagination, as are most things these days. Why can't I spend just a single day grounded in reality?

There are jobs to be done, people to meet (okay, not so many of them - I am a mere migrant labourer in Thailand, after all).

We need to concentrate.

PS: My admission above that I like an orderly living environment is not an invitation to regular reader the Shrink to psycho-analyse. Just chill, fella. In a few more years you'll be just like me, and know what it's like.

Vanilla fudge taunt

Chef Maiyuu has tried his hand at vanilla fudge, made with plenty of milk chocolate and a pod of vanilla. He asked me if I could smell the vanilla.

'Yes,' I said, though the scent of chocolate was stronger.

I have eaten two pieces. The rest of the fudge is sitting in the fridge, and stares at me whenever I open it. 'Eat me!' it says.

I am loath to eat too much, as the doctor has warned me not to pig out on sweet stuff. 'You've had a fungal rash...often they are associated with diabetes,' he says.

Actually, a foreigner doctor I know says there is probably no reason for alarm.

Recently I took a course of antibiotics for another minor complaint. The antibiotics could have set off the rash.

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This message just in, from reader Su...

'Hi Bkk.. I think what you and Maiyu have is really sweet. Love your coupley tales.. And Maiyu is a great cook! I cant believe I actually look forward to pics of his creations.. :) '

Thank you for the compliment. Sometimes I wonder if Maiyuu's repertoire of dishes will ever run out.

While he has his favourites, he rarely cooks the same dish, perhaps because he enjoys experimenting and trying out new recipes.

Market sortie

I have asked boyfriend Maiyuu if he would like to go for a walk to the local market today. It's about time we had an outing together, rather than just talk about it.

Twice a week, local traders set up a flea market about 20 minutes' walk from our home. They sell household items, cooked food, fresh fruit and vegetables.

Two visits ago, I went alone, and bought a plastic carry basket (see picture) into which I dumped our purchases.

'That looks so gay,' said Maiyuu as I walked back in the door.

Still, I would like to use it again. So, is he up for it?

'It will depend on the weather, and the mood of the old man,' he said, referring to me.

Savings scheme in a box

We have embarked on a household savings scheme - B1,000 every pay day - to create a small income buffer should one of us need an urgent visit to the dentist, or meet some other unexpected big-bill expense.

It is something we should have started years ago. Previously, I would ask my parents to send me savings from overseas.

I don't like using that money for anything other than truly deserving cases. A dentist's bill, for example, while no doubt important, is still just routine spending, even if a toothache does arrive unexpectedly.

Maiyuu went shopping while I was at work last night.

Today he presented me with a simple handmade wooden box.

Not knowing what it was, I opened it - and found a B1,000 note inside, which he offered as the first instalment in our savings plan.

'You lovely kid,' I said, and gave him a big kiss.

Maiyuu says he understands the need to save, and is willing to help me do it. I wasn't sure I'd be able to get him to agree...it is so much easier to just live for the day, after all.

I know I should deposit the money securely in a bank, but I want to see the notes piling up every week.

Deposit interest rates are so miserable these days that whether I keep it in a bank, hidden under the mattress, or left in my little box really makes little difference.

Patient, medicate thyself

A reader emailed asking for the names of the medicine which the doctor prescribed to treat my fungal rash.

I replied saying I didn't have the names, as doctors here (at least at the slummy clinics I visit) don't tell you what you are getting.

They scribble something on a notepad, which staff at the prescription counter process.

They put your pills in clear plastic sachets, such as those pictured here. The sachets will usually tell you how often you have to take pills, but not what they are.

My doctor gave me a month's prescription for three types of pills, and a small container of ointment, which you can see pictured (sorry, I have since deleted the pics by mistake).

In the West, some GPs (we have no GPs here, either - just doctors who work in hospitals) can send electronically a patient's prescription to the pharmacy across the road. It will be there before the patient is.

Needless to say, the patient knows what he is getting. Doctors usually say so, and if they don't, the pharmacist will.

Thailand is years behind, but never mind. That's why we are here, right? For the innocent olde world charm of the place. As patients, we don't mind being kept in the dark.

I told the doctor the names of the store-bought skin creams which I had been applying to my rash.

'Don't take them! They are for surface allergies, 'he said.

'The more you put those creams on, the worse your rash will get!'

I didn't know. At the slum chemists where I bought them (I visited two places in a shophouse close to my home), I described the rash briefly, and the owners recommended I buy those those creams.

How were they to know that it was a fungal rash, not an allergy-related one or mere surface skin abrasion? How was I to know that rashes come in different stripes?

In this case, despite the inadequacies of the Thai public medical system, I am pleased I eventually visited a doctor, rather than attempting to self-medicate any longer. It just doesn't work, unless you know what you are doing.

PS: Yes, the rash is getting better.