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Thread: Love

  1. #1

    Love

    I met her in a bar.

    Now, this was kind of a special occasion for me, as I generally never meet women in bars. I just don’t do well in them; too many attitudes, too many erected personality walls. I don’t deal well with bullshit like that. Attitudes and egos, the more moronic the individual, the larger their attitude and ego. I see through it too easily. No, I don’t do well in bars.

    But this was a different night. It was a year ago, about this time, that I was walking around town in Thailand, just walking around the outdoor bars and Muay Thai boxing rings, doing what I seem to do best: people watch. I always find these little excursions of mine to be terribly interesting at times; the people that you meet in Thailand can really go from one extreme to another. But as I was gently strolling through an alleyway, near a few of the outdoor bars, someone caught my eye. Actually, I didn’t have much of a choice; she was standing right in front of me, and it was quite obvious, that she wasn’t getting out of my way.

    The eyes are the windows of the soul they say. Through them, you can see everything in a person. Well, this relatively tiny woman, rather tiny compared to my large six foot three, two hundred and seven pound frame, didn’t say anything. At least, not with her mouth. Her eyes said it all. And at that time, I realized that I was going to have to say something, something impressive, something catchy, something that would overwhelm her with my wit and intelligence.

    I said hi.

    She didn’t say a word. She just stood there, looking at me, though, at the same time, not moving an inch out of my way. Her eyes said it all.

    I just hate when women do this to me. Not that it happens all that much mind you. It may have been in another lifetime that some woman barricaded herself in front of my path, making it oh so obvious that I was going to have to try to get to know her. So, completely befuddled as to what to do next (picking her up and tossing her out of my way seemed like an option, though, not a terribly good one), I decided to ask her if she wanted a drink.

    Yes, great option. Offer a woman a drink. They always say yes, and then they wonder what the hell is wrong with you when you refuse to drink some alcohol with them. No, I don’t drink. Never did, never really had time during my college and growing up years, never developed a taste or desire for it. Not even beer. So, when I offer some unknown woman a drink, inevitably, she’s downing some sort of booze, and I’m downing some sort of plain water. With ice. Never use a straw though.Far too unmanly to use a straw.

    “What’s the matter, had a drinking problem in the past?” I always here that. Sometimes I hear things like “You must have been a drug addict or something”, or, “Did you used to beat your girlfriend when you were drunk?”.

    Well, no. Not really. I try to explain to them that I never had a drinking problem, that I’ve never struck a woman, and that I’ve never taken illegal drugs. Hell, I’ve never even smoked.

    “You must be a cop or something…, no, you’re with the FBI…”. I always here that.

    I then try to explain to them that, well, that I’m a physician. Just a doctor.

    “Nah, you’re not a doctor”.

    It never changes. Going to bars to meet women just never works for me. But this time, it was different.

    She didn’t ask me what I did. Never questioned my drinking a bottle of water. Just sat there, and looked at me.

    I’m not one to talk about myself, when first meeting some stranger. I like to get the other person to talk about themselves. But, this time, that wasn’t going to work either. She just wouldn’t say a word. But, she did tell me one thing. Her name.

    Her name was Nang.

    It sounded like “gong”, something which brought a bit of a smile to my face. And that, brought a smile to her face. Never said another word. Well, at least for the next ten or fifteen minutes that is.

    So, I told her about my trip to China. And, my trip to Phuket. And some things about my life in America.

    She didn’t say a word.

    I was a bit befuddled, so I decided to play dirty. I decided it was time to bring out the old standby, the thing that always melts a woman’s heart, and creates a desire that is immense and unquenchable. I reached into my pants. It was there. It always is. And it’s been causing happiness and consternation, ever since I’ve had it.

    I pulled out my wallet and showed her a picture of my dogs.

    Now the picture of Max and Mindy is quite a few years old. It was taken a while ago, back, during the last time that I had fallen in love. OK, so Max is dead, and Mindy is not much longer to be with us, but, eleven years ago, they were quite the pair. I still carry their picture. And their picture still melts hearts. It still melts mine, what’s left of it.

    Her eyes brightened, and she said something about the fact that the dogs were cute. I had to explain to her that only one of them is still around, and the other, well, she’s gotten quite a bit old. Like me.

    Ah, that picture. It still brings a smile to my face. I can remember oh so many years ago, like, eleven, when I was dating such a wonderful woman. Nicole was quite the girlfriend. I can remember her getting up early in the morning to exchange the dog’s picture in my wallet with hers. I can remember her bitching the next morning when she discovered her picture behind the dog’s picture in my wallet. I always moved the doggies to the front. She never forgave me for that. But that, was a lifetime ago. How things have changed.

    Nang and I talked a little after that, actually, we talked quite a lot. And as the night wore on, it became obvious that I wasn’t going to be rid of her, so, I just brought her back to my hotel for the night. A night became another night, another night became another, and eventually, the entire two weeks were spent here in Phuket with Nang.

    It was an interesting two weeks, for sure. Some of the happiest moments I've had over the past few years, ok, maybe some of the past many years, were part of those two weeks. Nang represented to me something that you just don't find in many American women, and certainly in few if any Las Vegas women. Nang represented a joy for life in the purest and simplest of terms. I can still remember, during our routine evening drill, sitting on the beach with some scruffy cute sand covered mut, watching the sun set over the Andaman sea. I'm not much of a romantic, but, I certainly do like to sit on a beach and watch the sun go down. Granted, the sunsets off of Thailand are not as dramatic as over Los Angeles, but, that's one of the disappointments associated with clean ocean air, air which has done my spastic lungs oh so much good this trip. Nang would entertain herself with the simplest of things, such as chasing tiny little sand crabs on the beach while I floated around in the ocean as the sun set. Shopping, fast cars, expensive restaurants, these were items of shear feminine enjoyment that were not part of her life. It was the simple things that pleased her, a quick Thai meal at some little shit portable street side cooking stand, a ride in a Thai tuk tuk, or, finding amusement with the sand covered mut on the Sheraton hotel beach. The simplicity of it all, the purity. It was a refreshing break from the bleached, silicone enhanced, attitude laden bitches that I was so familiar with. There most definitely is a pleasing aspect to simplicity in life.

    Leaving her the first time was hard; not for me, but for her. I had gotten an email from her the following week, asking me why I hadn’t looked back after I went through the magnetometer and passport control. She told me that to her, that meant that I didn’t care. How women come up with these things I’ll never know, but, they always seem to. I guess in some ways, they're all alike. We had corresponded a bit while I was in America, she had always emailed me back. And, a week didn't go by that I did not get an SMS message on my cell phone, telling me how much she had missed me.

    It was back in March of this year (2003), that I had returned to Phuket, albeit much earlier than expected. Initially I was supposed to go and train in Shaolin in early March, with a scheduled arrival date to Phuket sometime in April. But, after having caught one hell of a viral pneumonia in Beijing, I had decided to cut short my trip, and just go to Phuket to lay in the sun and heal. I had had all sorts of problems with my lungs prior to going to China, first a nasty community acquired bronchopneumonia that had left me with a bronchiolitis for four weeks in Las Vegas; second, some horribly nasty episodes of severe dyspnea (trouble breathing), that, after thousands of dollars of medical evaluations, a few of the best doctors, and two weeks of hell, I had discovered myself, that I was having asthma attacks to the pollen in the air. Well, the technical term for it was “spastic bronchitis”; but to me, it was hell. I couldn’t breath. Couldn’t even walk the dog. Some days, all I could do was lay on the couch and pant. Combine that with my typical headaches and fatigue, and there were days that I just thought I was going to die. There were some days that I had wished for it.

    So, I went to China to get away from the allergies, to get away from the breathing problems. I knew that I never had any allergy problems in Shaolin that time of year, so, it was a safe bet. Yes, that was it. Get away from the allergies, and the lungs will get better. Who knew about SARS?

    Shit. That had hit me like a freight train. Again, I thought I was going to die. So off I went, to Thailand, cutting my China trip short to lay in the sun, and try to heal with the fresh ocean air. I unexpectedly arrived in Phuket more than a month early. The phone call to Nang was short.

    “You here? I come”. And that was that. A fourteen hour bus ride, and she was here by my side the next day.

    Nang was the best thing to happen to me in a long time. For it took about two weeks for my viral pneumonia to heal; two weeks that certainly were not enjoyable. Getting short of breath, and having to stop halfway up one short flight of stairs is not my idea of good health. But, I overcame it, eventually. And, also eventually, my spastic bronchitis disappeared. All seemed to be good, until I started to develop lower chest / upper abdominal pain. Nasty, nasty pain.

    Now, during the multi thousand dollar medical workups of February, when my highly trained team of medical specialists (and friends) were trying to figure out why I was having so much trouble breathing, the whole concept of an MI (myocardial infarction, heart attack) was something that we had all entertained. Though I’m young and in relatively good shape, it’s always a risk. Hell, I’ve known people younger than me to die of MI’s. And, the other biggie on the list of probable causes for me, was a PE (pulmonary embolus, when a blood clot breaks off in your leg or pelvic vein and gets caught in your lung). As I had just come home from Thailand in December, after a 33 hour travel trip, the possibility of my having a blood clot in my leg was pretty high. Especially since I had had calf pain with swelling ever since the trip.

    No, it was a bad time for me. And being a doctor, a doctor who specialized in Critical Care Medicine, who had seen far, far too much in his career, just made it worse. Every episode of chest pain or difficulty breathing just made my over-specialized mind work, in many a horrible and nasty way. Sudden and unexpected death was a serious option with all diseases that it was thought I might have had. I was in hell.

    And Nang was there with me. Always. Always by my side, always understanding, always looking out for me, always caring for me. She might not have understood what was going on, but she was there.

    It was when my heart started acting funny, that I started to get seriously worried about my condition. The irregular heartbeat that occasionally manifested itself, with the associated dizziness, just horrified me. There were so many a time when I thought something was seriously wrong, but yet, despite my fears and my illness, both of which made me difficult to be with, Nang was there.

    And then, there came that night. That night that I will never forget.

    I actually had felt quite good that day, even though my abdomen was grossly distended, for some strange reason. In fact, all week, I had suffered with gastric pain and abdominal distention, with some cardiac irregularities. But that day, despite the pain, I had worked out with my Muay Thai instructor. And that afternoon, I had taken Nang to a favorite little restaurant that had overlooked the ocean. And that afternoon, because I was having some serious migraine problems, I drank some Coca Cola. I didn’t realize that the gas from the soda, along with the gas already in my intestines from whatever was going on, was going to bring me to the edge of hell later that night.

    Nang faithfully went wherever I went, without question, always with a smile. Her self-imposed goal in life seemed to focus around keeping me happy, something which I wasn’t terribly familiar with, during all my experiences with American women. It was relaxing to have her around, and she definitely made things easier for me through my illness. She really proved her worth later that night. And what a night that was…

    It all started when I decided to jump in the pool late that night; I had wanted to work off some of that abdominal distention that I was feeling. A quick fight with the idiot, though probably clairvoyant, security guard, who tried to keep me out of the pool, and I was happily swimming back and forth in the deep end. It wasn’t a long period in the pool, just enough to get wet, and get a little exercise, and, hopefully, feel better. Feel better I did, until about ten minutes later, when I had felt something pop in my belly, and quite suddenly, I felt dizzy. The chest pain was bothersome too.

    I went upstairs to my room, where Nang was waiting. She noticed that something was wrong, but really didn’t say anything about it. I wasn’t feeling all that well, so I went to bed. And as the hour proceeded, I started to feel worse and worse; the dizziness and lightheadedness was just worsening by the minute. That, along with the upper abdominal and lower chest pain, and I realized that this was not something that I had ever dealt with personally before, Oh yes, this year was a horror, with more hospital admissions for chest pain and shortness of breath in the previous two months, than I had had hospitalizations my entire life previous. But this was different. This was associated with a different kind of fear. A real kind of fear. Before, I was scared. This time, I was starting to feel terror. It was different this time. Real different.

    I got the first clue as to how different it was, when I finally decided to try to do some sort of medical evaluation upon myself. Not an easy thing to do, but, when you feel your pulse, and notice it to be weak and thready, and highly irregular, you know something is wrong. I had no idea what was wrong, all I knew is that I kept feeling like I was going to pass out. I kept feeling like I was going to die. Really die. This time was going to be it.

    I made it clear to Nang that I had to go to the hospital, an EKG and other work up was clearly in order. Something was seriously wrong with me, but, there was no way I was going to figure that out in the privacy of my hotel room. Now, my experience with Asian hospitals was limited to a nightmare in Dengfeng, China, which I have not yet written about. The uncertainty of medical care here in Thailand just added fuel to my ever increasing terror. The lack of a taxi driver nearby to rush me to the hospital multiplied that. No, there was no time to wait for an ambulance, to drive all the way out to the hotel, and then back again. I had to get to the hospital, and fast. As every minute ticked by, I was feeling fainter and fainter. And then Nang, who was always by my side, noticed something that made it all that much worse. She told me my hands were ice cold.

    Whatever was going on, I was in trouble. Apparently my cardiac output had dropped so significantly, that not only was my head getting limited blood flow, but the vasculature of my peripheral limbs had shut down, in an effort to shunt blood flow to vital organs. My hands were not only ice cold, in a eighty five degree heat, but they were horribly pale white. I could tell by Nang’s eyes, how she looked at me, that my face must have looked the same. In an instant, I knew, that from a cardiovascular standpoint, I was in serious trouble. And there was no taxi in sight.

    Eventually, the hotel found one, and off we went to the international hospital, with Nang and I in the backseat. I had been slumped over, leaning on top of her, with her holding my hand, and rubbing it, trying to bring some heat back into my limbs. And as the taxi driver, who, I might add, seemed to take his sweet time getting me to the hospital, and who, seemed to be making one wrong turn after another, drove us, I started to feel worse and worse. A realization started to come over me, that this time was different from those other events of this horrible year. That this time, I was in serious trouble, in a foreign land, away from medical care that I had trusted and had relied upon. This time, I really thought that I was going to die.

    Yes, die. In the back of a taxi cab, in some back street of downtown Phukettown. They were going to find some big bald guy in the back of a cab, dead. No, I certainly didn’t see my life flash before my eyes. I didn’t think of much actually; some thoughts were devoted to my dog Mindy, who I knew I would never see again. I thought of the fact that I was far too young to die, that I didn’t deserve this, and that it was just all wrong. Yet, it was alright. I was comfortable with it. I had accepted it. And as I grabbed as tightly as I could onto Nang’s little hand, I felt that everything, though wrong, was peaceful. I knew it was coming to an end, and I had accepted it. And then, I thought of something else. I thought of all my medical colleagues, back in Las Vegas, where I was well known, and widely respected, after quite the successful career. I thought of what they would be told, of my death. I thought of what they would think. I thought of what they would say to each other, all with twinkles in their little eyes, all, oh so proud of me, all expecting me to go out of this world in such a fashion. I could hear it now. And I laughed. Yes, in the back of that slow little cab, with my trusty and reliable Nang sitting faithfully by my side, in the face of death, I laughed.

    “Did you hear about Dr. Russell? He died, had a heart attack, died in the back of a shit taxi cab, in some shit little town in Thailand, with a Thai prostitute by his side. Now only he would go out that way....”

    I laughed. Yes, Nang was a prostitute. I had thought that it was a fitting way for me to die. Oh how the medical community would eat that up.

    Yes, Nang was a prostitute. Still is. I didn’t know it at the time that I had met her, but, eventually, it had come out. She had been married for about eight years, very happily so, with one child of five or six. But then, when she turned 29, her husband decided to go chase some other skirts, and he had left her to fend not only for herself, but for her child, and her old parents. With no education, and no career or job training to think of, she eventually accepted the only job that she could do, in this employment limited country of Thailand. She worked as a hooker in the bars. She certainly didn’t like what she did, but she did it. Because, well, she had to.

    I ended up in the Intensive Care Unit that night. By the time I had reached the emergency room, I was starting to realize what was wrong with me. My heart was in some sort of junctional rhythm, either a second or third degree heart block; I couldn’t tell without looking at an EKG. And I had felt that it was all because of a vagal response, a vagal response brought on by a sudden gastric distention. Standing in the pool had redistributed all the gas in my intestines, and raised them into my stomach. The vagal reaction induced by a sudden gastric distention was severe enough to trigger a heart block. Which, in my mind, was a bit bizarre. It made sense, but, it just wasn’t a normal pathophysiological event. Technically, these things can happen, but, you don't ever really see them. No, something else was wrong, but at the time, I just couldn’t figure it out. It all had become obviously clear, when I eventually made it back to the US and had a gastric endoscopy.

    I told the ER doc what I had thought, and he treated me as I had suggested. Some antacids, some simethicone, some sedatives, and a few good long burps, and I was feeling better. A night in the ICU, just for observation, was in order. I didn’t hesitate. I knew what had happened, but, I also didn’t fully understand what was wrong with me. Nang, my ever faithful little girlfriend, could not stay with me in the ICU that night, due to hospital policy. Instead, she went outside the hospital lobby, and fell asleep on the sidewalk. She just wouldn’t ever leave my side.

    As it turns out, the following weeks were full of more gastric distress, chest pain, and cardiac dysrhythmias. A few trips to the hospital had been in order. As the following two weeks passed, I was not getting better, so I decided to return home for a more complete medical evaluation. It was necessary for me to obtain an endoscopy, an internal view of my stomach and esophagus, to see what was wrong. All sorts of subsequent cardiac monitoring in Thailand revealed nothing abnormal. But the endoscopy was revealing, to say the least. I was suffering from some sort of viral gastritis. With evidence of a viral infection in my intestines, and a viral pneumonia, it was fairly clear to all of us, that I had probably been infected with SARS. SARS is a multi-system infection; now, it was clear why my heart too, was acting funny over the previous few weeks.

    The last time I saw Nang, was in Bangkok. She had accompanied me from Phuket, to Bangkok, and eventually, to the airport. We had stayed our last night together in some incredibly hot little shithole of a hotel, for a few hours. My flight was supposed to leave at six AM, so we hadn’t much time. It had been one hell of a trip, with the illness and everything, and that last night, as I remember, was a happy one.

    Interesting relationship, it was. Nang and I had one fight, only one time when voices were raised. I’m certainly not one to fight with a woman, or, anyone else for that matter. I just don’t like confrontation; in my mind, it accomplishes nothing. A good simple discourse, either verbal or written, suffices for me. But that day when my then favorite Muslim taxi driver, who, I might add, I had made a point of tipping excessively, had a conversation in Thai with Nang, things started falling apart.

    The taxi driver was telling Nang about my previous girlfriend in Phuket. Some little girl whom I had spent a week with. Some little girl who had latched onto me just as Nang did; a little girl who, after spending one evening with me, decided to spend the rest of the week with me. A little girl, as I eventually found out, also worked as a prostitute. The taxi driver told Nang all about her. Told Nang all about another girl, who had worked at the local five star hotel, told her some bullshit that this girl, Yang (pronounced like "clang"), was my girlfriend too. Interesting. An old relationship that meant nothing, and a friendship that was nothing near a relationship. Both were to be the source of my troubles. It was that evening, that I discovered the insane jealousy that Thai women have for their men. I had seen a side of Nang that I had never seen before.

    It was quite bizarre, the whole incident. Here I had this Thai woman, who, I might add, sleeps with men to support herself, a fact which I decided to overlook and ignore, getting incredibly pissed off at me for having a week long girlfriend here in Thailand, last year. And another girlfriend that doesn't exist. Questions of when I last saw her, what we did, did I still care, on and on. It was pure insanity. Why I put up with it, I certainly don’t know. I did what any normal male would do in a situation like this. I brought back her to her friends house. I ended it.

    But Nang loved me. It was clear. And she begged to come back, which, I allowed. And during my sojourn back in the US at home, I sometimes got daily SMS messages from her on my cell phone. It was obvious that she had missed me. She even called every once in a while, just to hear my voice. Her phone bill must have been horrendous. I certainly didn’t want to think about how she paid it.

    I was never to see Nang again. This trip to Phuket was made with someone else in mind, a younger, much “cleaner” girl, who worked at the local five star hotel where I stayed. I had known her for over three years, during which time, she had always refused to go out with me. That’s what I had liked about her, she had good taste in men. But, this year, something changed. The last time I had seen her, prior to this trip, was a brief five minutes, when I had left Nang in the room. I just went to the other hotel, to visit this little honey who had wanted nothing to do with me. I had wanted to say hello, I had wanted to just let her know that I was there. It was a friendly happy visit, during which I had said goodbye, and during which, I had given her my email address. I never expected to hear from her.

    But I did. Yang eventually wrote me. An email correspondence was born. And over the month, it became clear that I was just going to have to return to Phuket to spend time with her during her vacation. There was no relationship to speak of, just, a curiosity and a desire to spend time together. Just to get to know one another. It would be a “pre-China” stop, not my usual way of doing this Asia training trip, but, a worthwhile change in plans.

    Nang stopped calling me. She also refused to answer my calls. It appears that my favorite Muslim taxi driver, with whom I had had one hell of a talk with after I found out what he had told Nang about a previous girlfriend the last time I was here, apparently noticed me with Yang a few days ago. I’ve been told that he called Nang and let her know that I was with another girl. With the girl that, for some strange reason, the taxi drivers had thought was my girlfriend all these years. Yes, Nang had thought, during my last trip, that Yang had been my girlfriend, all because, people had seen us talking together over the years. But it hadn’t been true. Regardless, the taxi drivers had thought so, and had decided, to tell Nang all about it. Their nonsense had caused quite the stir during my last trip here, and now, apparently, have caused it yet again. It was a horrible way of tearing some poor woman’s heart out, especially one that had loved me oh so much. There is no way that I can explain. I never had the chance.

    The story continues. Nang disappears, and Yang enters….
    Experienced Community organizer. Yeah, let's choose him to run the free world. It will be historic. What could possibly go wrong...

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  2. #2
    and i thought i was in a screwed up position

    I had gotten an email from her the following week, asking me why I hadn’t looked back after I went through the magnetometer and passport control. She told me that to her, that meant that I didn’t care. How women come up with these things I’ll never know, but, they always seem to. I
    i got that exact same thing too when i left sydney lol

    hope you are feeling better now doc... take it easy big guy,
    dave
    simple and natural is my method,
    true and sincere is my principle --Tse Sigung

  3. #3

    How Sweet..

    The strippers are waiting.

  4. #4
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    You shouldnt have made your relationship with nang so long if you hadnt have had in mind a future with her.

  5. #5
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    Doc, I'm going to suggest a radical possibility that you should consider following. Never let yourself fall in love with a woman who sells her body. Its only going to result in alot of pain for the both of you. This is not to suggest that you can stop yourself from falling for a woman whom you're already falling in love with, but simply to say that you should spend less time with prostitutes while in thailand. Though given the current thai economy, its difficult to spend time with a thai woman whose not a prostitute.

    Who knows, maybe you just have a weakness for thai hookers. But seriously, never fall in love with a woman who sells her self.
    Show me a man who has forgotten words, so that I can have a word with him.

  6. #6
    Who said I fell in love?

    I'm too old for that shit.... lol

    Everybody has completely missed the message within. I'm surprised.

    More to come.
    Experienced Community organizer. Yeah, let's choose him to run the free world. It will be historic. What could possibly go wrong...

    "You're just a jaded cynical mother****er...." Jeffpeg

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  7. #7
    tonya's Avatar
    tonya is offline Registered Member: no custom title Registered Member
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    i got the point its all about gossip.it is amazing how something so simple can be blown out of porprotion.just because your with someone they havent seen you with before,it comes down to if you have friend or a life for that matter your a target.but doc,your a superstar over there.they all love you,you make the guys jelous you get all the girls.i think you should take advantage of your popularity and enjoy.[before you get to old and are unable to enjoy]it doesnt matter how many chics your with just have fun.you only live once .

  8. #8
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    .[before you get to old and are unable to enjoy]
    They make blue pills for that now....

    Doc, you know what you are doing.. but I say that a soap opera is a soap opera no matter the language..
    practice wu de

  9. #9
    Doc the superstar "over there".

    Now that's funny!

    Oh, and remember. There's always a message. I'm such a cryptic mother****er. Don't read the words. Read into the words.
    Experienced Community organizer. Yeah, let's choose him to run the free world. It will be historic. What could possibly go wrong...

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  10. #10
    Idoia is offline Registered Member: no custom title Registered Member
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    Hey doc, you don´t forget your sense of humor even near the death. At least, you were not alone in that terrible situation, I mean, you were so ill and in a foreign country but with a friend and the taxi driver.
    Your life is like a movie, please tell us the rest of the story.

    Now seriously, I hope you forget all your health problems and I hope you feel better now.
    I agree with Tonya that people like gossip very much and this causes a lot of problems.

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