If you’ve been following my adventures here on my blog or any of my social media accounts, you know I post pretty frequently. However, you may have noticed a significant decrease in activity these past 3 months.
After being in the States for a month, I returned to Shanghai barely alive. Okay, maybe that’s a tiny bit of an exaggeration but it sure felt like it. I barely made it through security, I don’t even remember boarding the plane, and the 14-hour flight was absolutely unbearable. All I wanted to do was crawl into my bed, curl up in a ball, and die. However, after being away for a month, I was forced to return to real life in Shanghai or at least go to work.
In China, when you tell your boss, or any local for that matter, that you’re sick, the typical response will be: “Drink some hot water and have a rest”. After 2 months of hearing this, I wanted to rip my hair out and punch someone in the face.
I wasn’t being taken seriously by my workplace, colleagues, doctors, and maybe even at times friends. Being one of the coldest winters in Shanghai and with the AQI (air quality index) skyrocketing over 300, it was easy for people to say “I’m really sick too” as they trudged out to brunch in an effort to “feel better”.
As the weeks passed by, I slept nearly 18-20 hours a day. The other 4 hours I was drugging myself to make a zombie appearance at work.
I couldn’t breathe out of my nose.
My throat hurt so bad I wanted to rip it out.
My body ached.
It hurt to walk, breathe, blink, and even sit.
I coughed so badly, I cracked my ribs.
And then I cried hysterically from the excruciating pain.
And then I cried a little more out of pity for myself and life which just made it all hurt even worse.
I couldn’t keep anything down for more than 30 minutes without violently throwing up, so I didn’t eat.
There were no nutrients in my body.
I was losing weight at a rate of nearly 5kgs (10lbs) every 10 days.
(Lifetime goal weight achieved…hello abs)
I. Was. Miserable.
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Bedridden sick in a foreign country just made me want to say fuck it, fuck it all.
I was so close, numerous times, to just packing up my things and leaving. Whether it be moving for good or leaving the country for an extended period, I did not know. I could not see the light at the end of the tunnel and it was a horrible feeling. I’ve never in my life wanted to just give up so bad.
Throw me out of a plane, no problem. Give me an octopus to eat, sure. Ask a friend to take me to the hospital, no way.
I’m a bit stubborn and far too independent to ask for help. I also just really hate going to doctors but at this point, I pretty much felt as helpless as I possibly could imagine.
So finally, I asked for help.
Now, the general concept of going to see a doctor in a western country is that you typically go in the room and the doctors and nurses come to see you as you are the patient.
Not in China.
For every single thing, you must go to a different department. Depending on the hospital that can be 5 flights of stairs up or 3 buildings over outdoors (whether it be in the blistering heat or flurry of winter).
Blood tests, x-rays, ultrasounds, urine tests, and breathing tests. Inconclusive results just meant I had to go get poked and prodded some more.
Some doctors/nurses spoke perfect English, while others barely knew how to say “hello”.
My wonderful friends translated and shuffled me around while I wasn’t even coherent enough to understand a thing going on around me.
Sitting in a waiting room with hundreds (no exaggeration this time) of other sick patients, waiting for a doctor to read my test results, and make a prognosis.
Sending me home with bags full of antibiotics and inhalers and a strict doctor’s order to return in two weeks. My dear friends checked in on me to make sure I was taking my medicine, getting enough sleep, eating enough food, and of course, drinking enough fluids.
Little did the doctors know, I’d be back sooner than expected. The inhalers provided some relief but I still couldn’t keep anything in my stomach long enough for the antibiotics to have any effect on me.
Back at the last hospital, 12 hours, waiting room planks (not by me obviously, I could barely hold myself up in a chair), 8 IV’s, and lots of “wtfs” later, I returned home to sleep.
I slept for 2 days straight.
During that period, it was like a magic fairy came and sprinkled pixie dust on me. I woke up feeling like a completely new person. Everything around me was so bright and vibrant. I could breathe and move like a normal human being. With energy and an appetite, I felt like myself again…(well mostly).
So, with that awful experience close behind me, I decided to say peace out China! Just 2 days after waking up from my sleeping binge out of the hospital, I threw all my bikinis, leggings, and some dresses in a backpack and boarded a plane to Vietnam for 2 weeks.
There’s honestly nothing like some Vitamin-Sea in a tropical paradise to cure life! Check out how I recovered in Vietnam here.
Have you ever been sick abroad? Share your experience below!
[update July 2018: Although I now have permanent lung damage, [thanks, China] after months of nebulizers and inhalers twice a day, I am finally off my dailies. I’m just hoping to continue to stay healthy during the heavily polluted winter or else I may have to escape to a tropical beach sooner than expected.
I’ve (quite easily) managed to put back on my weight and build up endurance and strength. While I’m nowhere close to where I was pre-hospital, I’m back on a regular training schedule and even began boxing and Muay Thai.
Luckily, I’m now able to eat and keep down food…unfortunately though, I don’t have the iron stomach I once had. Thankfully, I’ve found doTERRA Peppermint Oil to soothe stomach issues because although there are some foods I simply can not eat anymore, I am still a foodie at heart.
Overall, I’m not sure I’ll ever be 100%, I think that’s just part of getting older, but I’m finally feeling like 95% JJ again!]
