More Waiting

I'm getting good at this. I have three hours before boarding the train back to Bangkok. I was just sitting here at this cafe with my iced coffee and listening to the Thai radio station when I noticed that my thumb is peeling deep in the corner where the nail growth meets the cuticle. It reminded me of something I'd purposely forgotten to save myself from unnecessary grief and worry.

I think I mentioned that the retreat grounds were a breeding ground for mosquitos with its stagnant ponds and multiple open wells. It was also a breeding ground for fungus since everything was always wet, and chemical disinfectant or cleanser usage is minimal (except in the bathrooms). I'm a bit of a germaphobe, so I had to get over myself rather quickly. I even tried to lessen my soap and lotion usage while I was there to help protect nature's delicate balance.

On the 6th day, I started to worry about parasites again because my thumb had been gradually swelling and had become tender in the aforementioned area. When I used my lighter to light my lantern that evening, it throbbed. I dismissed it as bruising caused by using the unreliable lighter, but I had the nagging thought in the back of my mind that no amount of striking could have made that lighter the culprit. I thought about that movie where The Rock was warned not to pee in the water because parasites could swim up the urine stream. It freaked me out for a little while. Eventually I told myself that, no matter what happens, I wasn't going to die at this place. No one has ever had to be rushed to the hospital in the organization's history, and I certainly was not going to be the first.

The next day, after finishing my chore of wiping down the tables in the cafeteria after breakfast, I started poking at my thumb again and feeling it to see if it had gotten any worse. It had, and it was starting to take on a greenish tinge. I noticed a little hangnail sticking out between the edge of the nail bed and the cuticle. I pulled it out and a bubble of thick yellow puss sprouted from where it had been. I felt the nausea pass over me, I stopped in my tracks and began waved my hand hysterically for a few seconds. I gathered my wits, told myself to slow my breathing down and keep walking. I took a tissue out of my pocket, pressed it against the opening and squeezed my thumb against it.

It was disgusting - truly. However, I could rest easy that it hadn't been a parasite after all. It was just a fungal infection, and I had stocked my pack with everything I'd need to treat it and keep it from recurring. From then on, I said screw the delicate natural balance. I used soap on everything from the tables I cleaned to the floor of my cell (yes, I said cell because that is as close as I ever plan to get to being in prison). I bet I looked incredibly foolish all lathered up in my sarong every day after lunch, but I didn't give a rat's ass how I looked.

I'm sure my incessant cleaning and disinfecting made me run out of mosquito repellent even faster, but I had no choice given my obsessive personality and my determination to ride out the entire retreat until the very end.

Well, I made it. Good for me - lol. Now if I could just focus some of that will and determination into something more practical.

I can't help but wonder how this experience is going to change my life. I have to keep reminding myself to stay here in the moment. This might be the last minute, the last hour, the last day. It would be a shame to waste it fantasizing about what may or may not happen tomorrow.
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