Fear and Loathing in Phnom Penh
So I have avoided talking about my medical situation on here, mostly because it was a bit too upsetting for me to blog about. But the past few days have given me some peace and being pollyanna and jokey about it really won’t cut it.
My injuries from the accident are more complicated than I was letting on. I have to return to Australia for medical treatment as soon as the swelling has gone down and I am safe to fly. I have sustained some damage to the brain that is potentially permanent and needs neurological attention.
It has been a really hard week for me emotionally. It definitely was not the way I wished to leave Cambodia. Not just physically but mentally. There is a whole lot of weird baggage that comes with being dragged off a speeding motorcycle that really dampens your stride.
Like fear.
Lying bloody on the ground coming in and out of consciousness and having the two men that I’d flagged down after my accident argue about whether to help me or take my bag does not a joy for humanity spring.
For those that know me personally, you have probably shaken your head at some point due to how stubborn I am. I am not one for taking things lying down. In fact, in order to not be a victim I almost become the aggressor. (Yes, be warned future attackers!) Victim is not a word that sits well with me.
But sometimes you don’t really have a choice about these things.
Since the accident I am jumpy and fearful. I wake up every night, positive that there is someone in my apartment. Unable to fall back asleep I perform some strange ritual of a broken down security guard stalking the windows and doors with every sound. It’s frustrating because logically I know that it is highly unlikely someone is in my apartment - there was no one there the night before, or before that, or before that - but I still can’t help but be fearful. This leaves me tired and really angry.
Really really angry.
Angry that I feel so vulnerable. Angry that I now doubt the validity of any tuk tuk driver I meet. Angry that I sit on my bag when I’m in a public space like a crazy person. I used to see those barang and roll my eyes. (Lets face it- it’s me, i still do!) And I hate that I am reduced to that.
But I’m not. This is a temporary condition. Like the headaches, fear comes and it too will go. And this time next week I will be in Australia.
I just hope that I will be able to make my way back to this country one way or another. The sisters I’ve worked with, the friends I’ve met, the work I’ve been honoured to take part in - I hope that one day I can make Phnom Penh my home. Even if I do have to deal with some weird sitting-on-your-bag-barang issues.
