All's Quiet

I woke up this morning at 10 am with my face shoomushed into the couch cushions, sweaty hair sticking out like Einstein's. So much for "beauty rest," I may have to immerse my head in a bowl of ice water to get my face to morph back to its normal state.

Juli continues to improve, getting steadily more hydrated, and even taking little bites of solid, banal food like applesauce and plain noodles. I've got her on plenty of electrolyte liquids like Gatorade and Vitamin water, trying to replace some of the nutrients she's lost.

She asked for and received a medical leave of absence from her job yesterday. The idea is to eliminate all the sources of stress on her body and mind, while we work on getting her diagnosed and then fixed. Leaving her job has the added benefit of making her completely destitute, so perhaps now she will qualify for medicaid or some other charity medical care.

It's insane, but if you are working, even part-time, trying to be responsible and pay your bills, you don't qualify for any free medical care at all. While the current political debate rages about health care, the facts on the ground are that if you're a slacker, indigent, unemployed, or lazy, you get a free ride, no questions asked. If you answer "yes" to the first question, "are you working," you're bounced into the "We can get money from this stone" category. If you're struggling to make the rent, trying to work every minute you're not sick, able to pay a little but not a lot, you don't qualify for anything--you pay full price for yourself and a portion for everyone who's getting the free care you don't get. I haven't heard anyone discuss this issue at all. The assumption is that if you're "poor," you get free care and the rest of us have to pay for it. But the definition of "poor" is actually "not working," for whatever reason. Juli and Kerne are working their hearts out, constantly falling behind, never quite getting ahead of the curve. They are by definition, "working," so they are deemed able to pay the thousands of dollars each ER visit costs in inflated dollars.

Juli tells me that according to her past hospital bills in Seattle, every time they hang a bag of saline above her head, it costs $600. A litre bag of normal saline in Alex's retail pharmacy costs less than $3.00--and the politicians wail about the cost of care and the cost of insurance. I am completely flummoxed by the insanity of it all--the specious nature of the argument, the reality out here in the real world, the total lack of rational thought and pragmatic solutions to real problems.

By contrast, in California, our entire ER visit, meds, saline,rooms and doctor care was a flat fee of $800, if we paid it immediately upon discharge. I got out my credit card and paid happily--what a bargain!

So that's my rant this morning. If you too have bought all the hype about how "the truly needy" people get or will get a free ride, do some research--it ain't so. In order for Juli to get the care she needs, she has to become a person she never wanted to become--someone who doesn't even try to pull her own weight, someone who gives up and doesn't go to work, someone who is "helpless" and unemployed. It's not right, but it is what she has to do, according to the insane rules of the game.

What kind of society have we let ourselves become?

Back in Seattle

It seemed like a good idea--get recovering Juli out of town for an adventure, a quick visit to Gran and sunny Southern California, back on Thursday to be ready for work on Friday. Alas, sometimes my brilliant ideas aren't so brilliant.

She was very excited to be going on a mini-vacation on Monday. She spent most of her time resting, talking, laughing. Tuesday, she was still tired, so we took it easy and encouraged her to sleep. My brother Jerry flew in that afternoon for a job interview, so we had good family times that evening. Then, she and I were both up at 3 am because she was suddenly very sick again.

Despite spending most of the early morning in the bathtub, she was vomiting constantly and getting steadily more dehydrated. I put a call into her Seattle doctor's office, and the consensus among the triage nurses was to take her to the local ER for IV fluids.

She didn't want to go, but I still packed her up and took her down to the hospital where she was born 26 years ago. We managed to squeak in just before the lunchtime rush! Outside our curtained cubicle, we could hear the pace pick up from the nurses' conversations:

"I don't have a bed right now, could we just do a quick exam on him in the hall?"

"Call upstairs and see if they can send down 4 more nurses!"

"Yes sir, someone will take care of you just as soon as we can!"

They pumped Juli full of anti-emetics to no avail. A P.A. ordered IVs, but it took almost two hours before the liquid was actually flowing into her. They drew blood. They tried morphine, but as they were pushing it into the tube, I pointed out a large red rash spreading on Juli's chest and neck. The nurse stopped, the rash disappeared. They tried another milligram with the same results, so they had to stop. They put two full doses of Pepsid into her saline. She just kept retching.

My childhood friend Kris Brust is a pulmonary nurse in this hospital and I had her assistant give her a note that Juli and I were in the ER. Kris came down and told all the nurses that we were her "peeps," and they should give us the 5-star treatment. Shortly after Kris' visit, an exam room opened up and we were told that Juli had been triaged as Number 2 out of the next 10 patients. They moved her down the hall, past dozens of people in chairs, wheelchairs and gurneys, all waiting to be seen.

The nurses were astoundingly calm in the face of what I perceived as utter chaos. A young woman, Dr. Gendy, examined and questioned Juli thoroughly and ordered more liquids and meds, including a weird gastric cocktail of Maalox, xylocaine and Donnatol., which Juli actually kept down for about 60 seconds. She managed to hang on to the second dose though, and things started getting better. I had called Juli's Seattle doctor's nurse to let her know what was going on. Even though it was after five, the doctor called me back and wanted to speak to Dr. Gendy. The two doctors consulted on Juli's case, and Dr. Gendy came back with a mutual decision that it was probably gall bladder or ulcer related.

They finally got Juli stabilized and she fell asleep around 7 pm. I was so tired at this point, I scooted my chair up to the head of her bed, rested my head on her mattress and fell asleep for an hour too.

They released her around 9 pm, with meds and instructions to get her home to Seattle as soon as possible. Juli was in no shape to fly by herself, so I quickly booked myself on her flight for this morning. My brother Jerry was also flying back to Seattle, so everybody went to the airport! We got her a wheelchair, got her through security (the full-frisk for her, oh joy!), and got her on the plane.

Another time, I will share my month of TSA "security" stories. For the moment, I'll just say that Juli would have been perfectly justified in barfing on the security personnel. I would have applauded.

The flight was tremendously hard on her, but she made it though the 2 1/2 hours, quietly using all the air-discomfort bags I could round up from nearby seat-backs. I insisted that she have a wheelchair from plane to baggage claim. We met up with Jerry (he was on a different flight) and he drove us to Juli's home so we wouldn't have to battle the train and bus routine.

So, I'm back in Seattle again. This time I plan to see her through the tests her doctor wants her to have, and I think Kerne and I have convinced her that she needs to take a medical leave from her job and concentrate on getting well again. I will reschedule my March doctor appointments for April, and stay as long as I have to.

For the moment, the meds are working, and she's sleeping at last.

What we decided...and ensuing foolishness

Juli and I are flying to California this afternoon. She decided last night to come with me and visit her Gran, get a change of scene and have a mini-vacation.

The anticipation of the trip combined with the fact that last night was her final night of work for the week buoyed her spirits enough to handle everything (including having to call the cops on some unruly teenage guests). She came home in a good mood, without the terrible stress of the previous two mornings.

Then, she couldn't find her required "Government-issued photo I.D." We tore the house apart, looked through every pile of paper, pulled out couch cushions, moved furniture, went through pockets and dresser drawers, all to no avail.

I was on the phone to the airline, concocting a true story of "lost wallet," when Juli returned from the laundry room, waving her card in triumph. It turned out that our little group had conducted our own Comedy of Errors: Kerne, looking for the house bus pass, emptied Juli's jacket pockets and mistakenly put Juli's ID in his pants' pocket. I did the laundry two days ago (and was careful to check the dryer by spinning the tub, finding a loose dollar bill). Juli saved the day by sticking her head inside the dryer, and found it stuck in one of the dryer's veins with another dollar bill. So now she has her ID and bus fare to the train station!

So we will both go to the airport today. She will return on Thursday, after getting a double dose of Mom-and-Gran love, and hopefully a trip to the beach where she can dig her toes in the sand and relax a little.

I Just Don't Know What to Do

Sunday morning, here in Seattle. I have a ticket for Southern California tomorrow afternoon, but I just don't know what to do.

Juli is barely hanging on, coming home from work this morning exhausted and spacey. She is starting to exhibit some symptoms of agoraphobia--not wanting to leave the house for any purpose other than to drag herself through another night of work, spending most of her time either in the bathtub or in bed. My latest "brilliant" idea is to take her with me tomorrow, for a change of scene and a bit of rest and relaxation in the safe environment of Gran's house.

I know I'm needed here, but it is also a strain having mother and mother-in-law here 24/7. I am also out of my own meds, don't have adequate clothing (I packed for a 3-day trip, and I've been here for 10 days), and have things to do with my mom in LA, such as getting her car ready to sell and assorted house projects.

Juli has a phone appointment with her doctor tomorrow morning to discuss her weekend of work on the new meds, and continuing efforts to get her in to see a GI specialist, a neurologist, and get an accounting of what tests have already been done versus the tests that need to be done in the future.

For all of my talk about "living in the now," I'm finding it hard to just go with the flow and take it day-by-day. I am torn between wanting to continue to help here and sensing their need for some privacy, in addition to thinking that a "break" from the scene of her stress might do her some good.

What's the right course of action? I just don't know.

Ah-Choo!

Just as soon as Juli started recovering, I became a Vector of Infection. I am on Day 3 of a stupid common cold. Since Juli is always highly susceptible to colds and flu, my primary concern has been to not infect her while I go through the obligatory dripping, sneezing, coughing routine.

While at the pharmacy to pick up Juli's scripts, I filled a cart with hand sanitizer, disinfectant wipes, Puffs, zinc & echinachae lozenges, and Zicam for the whole household. I don't know if my cold is a result of exposure to Bill's virus in Singapore, being on multiple planes with recirculating air and sick people, my overuse of public land transportation lately, the shock of going from tropical Singapore to cold, rainy Seattle, or a combination of all of it. My only consolation is that it's progressing briskly along--today will probably be the last day I spend on the couch with a tissue clapped over my face.

Juli has decided to try working this weekend, starting tonight. She's mostly recovered, has a fistful of drugs if she needs them, and I'm sending her in with a bag full of little foods she can snack on to keep her energy up, without having to stress her tummy with big meals before and after work.

If she manages to make it through Friday, Saturday and Sunday, my plan is to fly back to Long Beach on Monday afternoon. If not, we'll reassess the situation and I'll see if I can arrange to take more time off from work and stay with her as long as necessary.

Bill reports in nightly from Singapore. He describes the ongoing shipyard experience as "sheer pandemonium," with no end in sight.

Good times, good times...for everyone!

Two Steps Forward, One Step Back

Good News: The new primary care doc was everything I had hoped. She was curious, caring, knowledgeable, systematic and probing. She spent more than 90 minutes with Juli, questioning and examining. She established that the panic and anxiety occurred only after the physical symptoms kept recurring. She drew parallels between all the different symptoms and believes that they are all connected. She set up a whole list of tests she wants done and the specialists she wants Juli to see, in order of importance: GI, neurologist, cardiologist, etc. And she changed Juli's current meds to address her immediate situation, while we wait to get her the referrals she needs.

Jules was of course exhausted and weak after said grilling, so I called a cab from the doctor's office and got her home quickly. She slept through the night peacefully.

Bad News: Yesterday's GI appointment was a bust. Upon calling in the morning to double-check the location, Kerne was told that she had no appointment that anyone knew about. When she was last admitted to the hospital on February 2nd, her March 25th appointment was rescheduled for February 16--at least that's what her discharge papers said. In reality, someone did cancel the March 25th appointment, and never made the one for yesterday. Swell.

When I heard Juli yelling at the appointment nurse, I knew she was feeling better! Kerne got on the phone to the new GP's office, and they say they are going to get her to a different GI specialist within the next 7 days.

Juli slept and ate yesterday, and didn't need any tub time at all. She ate Cream of Wheat, crackers, mandarin oranges, canned pears, half a chicken breast, broth, juice, milk and cookies. She even had a bite or two of the chicken wraps I made for dinner! And again, slept through the night without incident.

We also wrote down a rough chronology of her hospital visits, possible triggers, trying to organize "the story" for subsequent doctor visits.

Today or tomorrow, she's going to have to make a decision as to whether she can try to work this weekend, or whether she needs to ask for a medical leave of absence while we sort this all out. Hard decisions loom, because she realizes what is important here, yet really wants to keep her job and needs the money.

It is so hard to know the correct balance with adult children in situations like this. My instinct is to take charge and tell her what to do (while wrapping her up in Mother-Love, so nothing bad can happen to her), but my respect for her as an independent person stops me. This is not my call, it's her decision and her life. I can give her options (and have been, ad nauseum), but ultimately, I just have to shut up and support her.

Doctor Day for Juli

Juli is sleeping (at last!) and hasn't vomited in almost 48 hours. This evening, she has an appointment with a new primary care physician, and tomorrow, with a gastroenterologist. Hopefully, we can start on the path to a diagnosis and treatment with these two appointments. If neither of those can help her, then we will press on to the next options.

I've been researching on the internet about a possible auto-immune disorder having to do with her thyroid gland. The symptoms seem to fit her situation, so if the GI doc rules out anything in his specialty, I think an endocrinologist should be the next stop on the medical bus.

Juli and Kerne are understandably frustrated. Juli is just so tired of being sick, and is still not entirely convinced that her body's malfunction is causing the stress and anxiety, rather than her anxiety causing her to be physically ill. Anxiety is easy to diagnose--it's the number one mental disorder in our society right now. Now that her medical chart is full of notations citing her "panic disorders," any new doctor is pre-disposed to confirming that judgment, rather than looking for a physical causation. I'm hoping that this new GP is a curious sort, someone willing to change the paradigm and challenge the previous assumptions.

It's a pleasure to be back in Seattle, even though I'm missing my own mommy something fierce. I had breakfast downtown at Pike Place Market with Friend Christy (who sent me back to Juli's with an armload of cheerful tulips). So even though the situation with Juli is serious, I'm still grabbing opportunities for having fun.

How shallow is that? I rationalize by saying that even the caretakers have to take care of themselves to be effective, right?

Back into the air

I think I've been on more plane rides in the last 3 weeks than I have in the last 30 years. And here I go again.

Bill called last night and said "Go take care of the babies." For a man who hates to spend money, he said he would feel better if I were in Seattle with Juli and Kerne, helping them find out what keeps putting her into medical crisis. So, I go.

It means I will miss my mother's 83rd birthday, which saddens me. I will have to arrange for a festive celebration, post-actual day, just the two of us toasting her milestone.

I can't believe I'm getting on another plane...

Headed back to Seattle...

Juli is getting sick again. I've decided to get on a plane (yes, I'm crazy) and go back up to Seattle tomorrow morning and see if I can help. Maybe just interface with her doctors, if she ends up in the hospital again. My poor baby girl.

Singapore Pix

Night lights on Reed Bridge:

Shopping for pearls in Little India:

Bill's shiny new propeller:

Super Bowl Monday breakfast at the Terror Club:

It's a jungle out there!

Cameras Gone Wild

You're kidding me, right?

Singapore from the WWII artillery emplacements:

Explaining the origins and customs of the Malay ceremonial knife:

Inside the Sultan Mosque:

Sultan Mosque dome--the "jeweled" ring around the base of the dome is actually the bottoms of hundreds of soy sauce bottles, set into the plaster:

More Singapore Photos

Pam on the Singapore Flyer:

MRT at rush hour:

Durians NOT allowed on public transport (Durian is a type of tropical fruit that tastes great and stinks to high heaven):

Big City views from the World's Largest Ferris Wheel:

A few selected trip pix

Chinatown, decorated for Lunar New Year:

Outdoor art, in the form of a pedestrian bridge across the river:

The Buddha's Tooth Temple:

Mr. Cherry Blossom himself:

Breakfast--Dragon Fruit:

You know you've been on a plane for 20+ hours when you start to look like your passport photo.

Yes, the Great Champagne Debacle in the Singapore airport at 3 am resolved itself with a whimper--they did take it away from me, but they only smirked instead of laughing out loud. If I had been thinking clearly at that hour (which I wasn't), I would have just opened the darn thing with a celebratory "pop" and gotten everyone in the waiting area a little tipsy before our flight. But even I can't handle warm champagne at that hour. We all hunkered down to endure the 7-hour flight to Tokyo.

My feet were the size of tennis racquets by the time I got to Narita, and after hobbling through the additional security where our bags were all x-rayed AGAIN, I walked through the terminal for an hour to try to get my circulation going again. I changed my last Singapore dollars into Japanese Yen, found a pharmacy and bought a pair of "flight socks," a pair of heavy-duty elastic compression knee socks to hold my feet together for another 10 hours. I downed a bottle of the Japanese version of Gatorade, extracted from a vending machine with the last of my Yen, and proceded into "The Sardine Zone," wherein 400 cranky people were stuffed elbow-to-elbow into a 747 flying tube, forced to eat plastic-wrapped meals every 2 hours, while watching FOUR movies in a row. It was uncomfortable to the extreme and interminable.

Somehow, I managed to fall asleep for the last 90 minutes of the flight, awaking only when the flight attendant plopped still another meal in front of my face. And then, blessedly, we were on the ground, moving like a sleepy herd of cattle through the various chutes of drug-sniffing beagle, immigration, customs and agriculture inspectors. I got to keep my dried Chinese black mushrooms, pistachio nuts (that were supposed to be an accompaniment to the long-lost champagne) and sunflower seeds.

Richard the Driver found me milling about zombie-like at the exit, and bundled me into the cold, clear Los Angeles sunshine. The next thing I knew, I was peeling off my elastic socks, hugging mom, and eating Mexican food and margaritas al fresco at the harbor!

Was it all a dream? Singapore seems far, far away now, except for the pictures. I will post some later today, just to remind myself that I was actually there.

Stupid Traveler Makes Airport Security Guffaw

It's 3 am and I'm in the Singapore airport, and I'm getting ready to fly to LA. So I go through security (the first part) and the screener says (incredulously) "Do you have a bottle of liquor in your bag?"

"Yes" I say. "I'm allowed to bring back one bottle of wine, right?"

Well, dumb-ass me--I've got my gels and liquids of less than 3 oz in my ziplock bag--did it EVER OCCUR TO ME that a bottle of champagne for my mom just might fall into that "Liquids/Gels" category? NO, IT DID NOT. What an idiot I am.

Now I'm going to go through the next checkpoint, and they are going to take it away from me, and I'm going to be the "Stupid American" who tried to bring a bottle of champagne through security.

I am so embarrassed.

Do you suppose they'll all point at me and just laugh out loud?

To be continued....

S'Pore Factoids & Sneaking in to the Super Bowl Party

On Sunday, Bill and I took a long MRT trip out to the western side of the island. Our goal was the Singapore Army Museum and Discovery Centre. We got lost multiple times, walking in the hot sun, but eventually found our way to the right place.

The museum attempts to chronicle the progress of founding an army from scratch in 1965. Given the island's history of colonization, invasion and occupation, they have done a remarkable job of planning and training the whole population for mobilization if necessary. They decided on universal conscription, and every male at 18 serves at least two years. Women also serve in the military, but it is not required for them.

Along the path to the Discovery Centre were the following interesting facts on signboards:

Singapore is the second most densely populated country in the world (after Monaco). There are more than 6,500 people per square kilometer. Bill remarked that I probably wouldn't have come here if I had known that beforehand!

In the island's small nature preserve, there are more species of trees than in all of North America.

Every day, more than 975,000 taxi rides are hired.

On our way back into the city, we stopped in the suburbs, to see what life was like outside the tourist areas. The shopping mall was jammed (like the MRT) with families--shopping appears to be the preferred recreational activity. I finally got to taste "Hainnese Chicken Rice" (for $1.50!), one of those dishes that is uniquely Singaporean. Bill had another local dish, Kaya Toast with coconut jam. Prices are cheaper out in the sticks.

On Monday, I got up at 4:30 am without a problem. (My sleeping schedule seems to be asserting itself back to U.S. time again). I met the men from Bill's ship for breakfast (Bill was already aboard working since midnight) and got on the hired van with the Captain, the Chief, and various day workers. We embarked on a half-hour ride through the dark to the northern tip of the island, to the Sembawan Naval Shipyard. Before we entered the base, the Chief Engineer handed me an identity card, told me to hold my thumb over the photo, pull my cap down over my face, and pretend to be sleeping.

The next thing I knew, we were getting off the van and walking across the gangplank to the ship, still in the dry dock. Below us was the gigantic propeller, looking all shiny and new--the shipyard workers had just polished it the day before.

Bill met me on the fantail and took me on a short tour of some of the spaces. Everything is torn apart in the engine room, and with so few people aboard, it was kind of eerie and forlorn. While Bill finished up his work, I sat and watched an Indian soap-opera and knitted in his cabin. Then we walked through the base and caught a cab to the "Terror Club."

Named after the H.M.S. Terror, a WWI British dreadnought, the club put on a breakfast buffet and televised the Super Bowl via the Armed Forces Network. The game was exciting (a good thing, since Bill kept nodding off after working all night), but I missed being able to see the commercials--instead we got "atta-boy" messages from the Secretary of Defense and President Obama during the breaks, and previously taped, endlessly repeating thank you messages from various players from both teams.

As soon as Manning blew the 4th down at the end, we packed up and trudged to the bus stop, caught a bus to the MRT station at Yishun, and took the long ride back into town. Bill went back to the hotel, and I continued on, with the idea of going to the Asian Civilizations Museum.

Unfortunately, my map was faulty, so I ended up at the National Museum and the National Art Gallery instead. I had a good afternoon at both, and will try again for the Asian Civilizations Museum today--I hear it's definitely worth the effort.

This morning, I was up at 5, and spent the early morning packing my bags. I fly out at 5:50 am tomorrow. Bill has a sore throat and is getting a cold, so I guess I'm getting out of town just in time!

What Shall I Do Today?

I feel as though I've really accomplished something--I've learned how to ride the buses! When I first arrived here, Bill told me that the MRT subway system was easy, but he found the bus system incomprehensible. Too hard for us mere Occidentals, in other words.

But yesterday, sitting in the hot sun, waiting for the free shuttle bus that never came, I studied the posted schedules and took the plunge when a #51 pulled up. I beeped my EZ Pass, no one yelled at me for doing it wrong, I didn't get lost and I managed to go all the way to where I wanted to go and got off at the right place. Success! At 69 cents per ride, it sure beats a $10 cab fare.

After reading my blog yesterday, my mom was shocked that I paid $185 for the silicone thingy collection. So for those who read it the same way, I meant $18 Singapore Dollars ("S"), not $185!

Bill came home early (9:30 am) yesterday and wasn't sleepy, so we embarked on another adventure--riding the Singapore Flyer, world's largest ferris wheel. It was expensive but very, very fun. We rode in a glassed in "capsule" about 8 x 20 feet in area. An audio guide and map legend explained what we were seeing in the 360 degree view, 165 metres above the ground at its apex. When we alighted, we walked through the mini rain forest exhibit and had a gelato to cool off.

Back at Great World City mall, I dragged Bill into a Japanese restaurant, were we ate multiple plates and bowls of great food and drank Sapporo beer to cool off. I kept ordering this and that (fabulous shrimp tempura!) until Bill protested that he really had to get to sleep. He got a solid 7 hours while I did my bus adventure described above. Then we met some of his co-workers for drinks out on the hotel patio--I got to meet the Chief Engineer, Dusty, and his lovely wife Tamoko, from Japan.

Now it's another day ahead. Tamoko and I have planned to meet up and do something together--maybe shopping, maybe dim sum, maybe showing her some of the places I have found to be interesting. She has not seen much of the city other than Orchard Road, and she is a tentative traveler, a little shy and hesitant to venture out.

By contrast, I have re-discovered my long ago adventurous self here--easy to do when the city is very safe, and the usual city crimes are almost non-existent due to the draconian punishments for such behaviors. Every day, I feel that I am stretching my boundaries and recapturing some of the curiosity I used to have when I traveled in my twenties.

Bill rolls his eyes and says, "I supposed there's no stopping you now..." By insisting that I come here and learn to be an explorer again, he may have created a globe-galavanting monster.

Another 24 Hours of Fun!

I continue to explore and enjoy this remarkable city. Yesterday, we ran out of underwear, so instead of doing the laundromat thing in the hotel ($16), I took the whole pile to the Washy-Washy down the street.

While Bill slept, I took a shuttle to Orchard Road, the fancy shopping/lodging/dining section of town. The sidewalks were teeming with tourists, not my favorite atmosphere, even though I'm a tourist myself. I did some wandering around Lucky Centre, the Filipino nexus. Then I found my way to Tang's department store where the real fun was!

There was one whole floor devoted to handbags. They do love their purses here, and the scene at Tangs was like a parody of sale-day at Macy's. Women playing polite-but-firm Tug O' War with totes, clutches and shoulder bags, everyone racing from table to table, trying to snatch up the "bargains."

Downstairs was kitchenware and appliances, all being demonstrated by enthusiastic Asian versions of "Vince ShamWoW" and Billy Mays on TV at home. I was treated to demos of food dehydrators, vacuums, Bento-Box thermos units, mixers, knives, rice cookers, rotisseries, and food storage covers.

I was completely enthralled with the silicone bowl covers and expressed mild interest. "Wait, don't answer yet!" said the girl (I'm not kidding). "You also get two jumbo size for free, today special only!" She switched effortlessly between Mandarin and English to sell her product simultaneously to me and the Chinese couple standing next to me. I blinked first, and walked away with a set of 5 for just $18S. I felt like I had won a prize drawing!

While looking for my shuttle bus, the sky opened up and the rain poured down. But it was like rain in TN in the summer; it didn't really cool anything off, just added to the humidity. I queued up for a taxi and the driver kindly took me to the Washy-Washy in time to pick up our clean clothes, and I walked back to the hotel in the rain.

When Bill awoke, we went on our nightly hunter-gatherer routine for dinner. Walking up to Great World City, my sneakers took one last sigh and completely fell apart. I had dinner barefoot under the table, then Bill took me to Bata, where I bought a pair of sandals with arch support. I've never had a pair of shoes fail so suddenly and dramatically, except for the time my gym shoes in Junior High had bleach spilled on them, literally flying off my feet when I kicked a ball in gym class. I guess I just wore out those poor sneaks by walking them to death here in Singapore.

We walked along the river coming home, and stopped in for a beer at the Grand Copthorne piano bar. Bill's musician friend Victor wasn't due in until 9:45, so we moved on, Bill hoping to get a nap before catching the bus to work at 11:15.

Good news this morning: Juli is out of the hospital and on the mend. Sometime last night, "another hole" was found on Bill's ship, necessitating another two weeks in dry dock (meaning another two weeks in the hotel), so we don't have to find new lodging or move before I leave next week. Bill swears he was nowhere near that part of the ship at any time...

After a week here...

I have been here for a week, and I feel like I'm starting to get a grip on this place. I can find my way via the MRT underground, I've got a mental map of the city so I am no longer getting lost, and I've even assumed the role of helping other tourists find their way and recommending good things to eat.

Yesterday, I did the walking tour of Kampong Glam, one of the oldest sections of the city and the heart of the Malay and Islamic communities. With our guide we visited a shop (owned and operated by a Hindu gentleman) that specializes in items a devout Muslim would need before embarking on the Haj, the required pilgrimage to Mecca. Here, you can get your prayer rug (with built-in plastic compass to point the way), your robe, your prayer beads (or electronic counter, if you're more modern), and your head covering. You can even book your travel here. Interestingly, each country with a Muslim population is allowed a "quota" of pilgrims to send. Singapore gets about 1,500 annually, Indonesia gets 200,000.

One of our tour asked the question: Would it be sacrilegious for an infidel to purchase a prayer rug and use it for decoration, such as a wall hanging? After some discussion between the owner of the shop and our guide, it was decided that it would be fine to do so, as long as the rug was not walked on or used inappropriately, such as a bathmat. But then, Guide Josephine said, "we say that it would be entirely acceptable, but you must remember, we are Singaporeans--I might not give the same answer in Indonesia or Iran or Saudi Arabia. We are used to being respectful and tolerant to each other, but I wouldn't try this in other countries!"

We also visited a shop where the traditional Malay proposal customs were explained and we learned how to wrap a sarong in the proper way for both men and women, and a perfume shop where you can have any scent you want concocted. We then took off our shoes and were allowed inside the Masjid Sultan Mosque (a first for me!), walked on to the former Malay palace and a very old cemetery, all the while hearing the history of the betrayals, usurpations of the throne, and Dutch and British manipulations of various royal rulers, all vying for control of strategic Singapore.

At the end of the tour, I led Janice from Reno and Paul from Melbourne, Australia to the Zum Zum restaurant, where we feasted on Roti Prata and about 4 litres of water. Janice (who is a quilter) and I spent the afternoon shopping in the textile shops on Arab Street, looking for bargains.

I loved this area of the city the best so far, I think. I find Chinatown (in preparation for Chinese New Year next week), and Little India both to be way too fast-paced and frenetic. Walking (or trying to push and shove through the crowds on the sidewalk) there really sets off my big-city anxiety. By contrast, Kampong Glam was like walking back in time, and once down a side alley, the noise of the traffic on Beach Road disappeared. The shopkeepers were friendly, but not pushy. And there were some real bargains for a change, so even shopping was fun.

I came home exhausted (again!), took a swim in the pool to cool off, then trekked over to the Washy-Washy to pick up Bill's work overalls while he was sleeping. I stopped in at a storefront spa on the way back to the hotel and got a 40-minute foot massage. Ahhhhhh!

When Bill awoke, we took a cab to Suntec City, had a chicken satay pizza and salad for dinner and then wandered down to the Pauliner Brew Pub, where we hoisted one and listened to the Filipino band.

Bill caught the bus to work at 11:15 pm, and I fell into a dreamless sleep.

This morning I called Seattle and talked to both Kerne and Juli--the hospital is going to discharge her in a few hours and they've moved her GI appointment up to next week (instead of late March). I'm hoping they can get her stabilized, diagnosed and fixed!

Worry Time...Again

My daughter Juli is back in the hospital again, just over a month since her last episode Christmas Eve. I'll have to suspend writing on the blog for a bit, while we do the overseas phone call thing instead of spending time on the travelogue.

Mid-Visit Thoughts on Singapore

There are two kinds of weather in Singapore--inside and outside. Inside is were you dart to lower your overheated core temperature in the air conditioning. Outside, it's pretty much always hot and humid. At 1 degree north of the equator, Singapore is tropical. They have the rainy season and the dry season, but the temperature is always in the mid-90s, and the air is always laden with moisture.

I hadn't realized that I was getting so darned dehydrated those first few days. I didn't know how much I was sweating until suddenly my vision would blur, the room would spin and my head felt like it was going to blow the top of my skull skyward. Now, I usually carry 2-3 litres of water with me at all times. I drink and drink and drink some more.

I haven't touched a beer or any alcohol for that matter since I've been here--for one thing, it's very expensive (a beer is 3 times the cost of a meal, a glass of wine in a restaurant will run you $20), and for some reason, it just doesn't appeal to me in this heat--I'm already quite light-headed most of the time. I've also pretty much lost my appetite the last day or two. Maybe because of all the water sloshing around in there, but again, it's hard to be hungry when it's this hot.

So, forget the weather--there's nothing to be done about it. Wear a hat, seek the shade, stop in at every air conditioned mall for a breather and another iced coffee (my new best beverage) or a fruit smoothie.

The energy of this place is tremendous. I took the MRT (underground trains) at morning rush hour to meet up with the Chinatown tour yesterday. The rapid clacking of heels on the tile floors as our huge herd of young people transferred from the north-south line to the east-west line sounded like an army on the march. It is an army of sorts. Everyone has a purpose, and that purpose is Business, Productivity, Capitalism--all with capital letters. The television is always exhorting people to get out there and make money for the greater good--for Singapore and Asia. It's a little creepy in a lock-step mindset kind of way, but I can't help but wonder if it was like this in the U.S. during the Industrial Revolution, or during WWII. Maybe our economy could use some of these exhortations to get out there and be a productive member of society.

The newspapers are all business news, the television is all about growth and progress, and there is a sense everywhere that Asia is ascendant, the West is in decline. While we dither, watch "reality" shows and decry big corporations for being all about making money, people here long ago decided that social order was preferable to individual freedom, and everyone is expected to have a nose to the grindstone for the benefit of the society. Slackers are not tolerated.

That said, it's an incredibly vibrant place, with an uncommon civility between many diverse ethnic races. People are mostly very friendly (especially if you buy something--then you're their new best friend), but they've all got places to go and things to do. No time is wasted. There's an economic world to conquer out there.

So much for societal ruminations. I'm off to go discover more today.

Busy, Busy, Busy

Yesterday, Bill came home from work and we had breakfast together at the hotel buffet. We were going to head over to the World's Largest Ferris Wheel, but ran into two of his shipmates in the elevator, JoJo and Shawn, and decided to share a cab to Little India instead. Bill and I wandered through the streets and shops, making our way to Mustafa's, the Singapore equivalent of Super Wal-mart. Five stories high, 2 city blocks square, you can buy groceries, a car, or anything in between. I got a much-needed wristwatch, and a few surprises for the folks back home.

We then took the MRT to still another shopping centre in Clarke Quay (pronounced "Key"), had lunch and then walked back to the hotel along the river. Bill slept while I threw our laundry into the washers and took a delightful swim in the pool while the clothes did their thing.

I actually managed to sleep until 5 am this morning.

In a few minutes, I will take a cab to City Hall and meet up with my tour group for immersion into the history of the British Colonial period in Singapore. I feel a bit like a pack-mule: Bottles of water, umbrella, insect repellent, hat, etc.