There's always a few concerns while traveling, the type that your mum tends to make worse by worrying about, and as a general rule it's warranted - the milder stuff does happen. Your passport gets stolen, you get ripped off ("Tuk tuk 10 baht each!" Yeah right...), you get bedbugs. You get sick, you go to hospital, you have to beat the language barrier on something more substantial than ordering a meal sans offal. Well, I'm glad to say that the hospital hurdle has been jumped. Unknown to Adrian, that meat-loving stomach has been chugging away, broiling a nice little ulcer. A nice little ulcer that didn't take to well to the stress of planning travels, plane food, malaria tablets and a lack of water. It did, however, like showers very much.
When I realised that Adrian has spent more time in the shower than out, the challenging idea of finding a hospital in Bangkok became a reality. Fortunately, my dear friend Lonely Planet pointed up towards the most attentive hospital I've ever has the misfortune of visiting.
I'm talking spotless, fast, a room to yourself, trundle bed for your "special nurse" (read: me. Everyone *still* thinks we're a couple), quiet, arctic air-con.
Two days, four bags of intravenous rehydration stuff, two bags of ulcer medication and countless pills later, Adrian and I are one challenge down and more than ready for a holiday.
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