It was a few months back in the bathroom. I was leaning on the sink cleaning my teeth when the whole unit fell out the wall. The sink and the mirror above crashed down into a million sharp clay and glass pieces, my toothbrush and toiletries, too.
Through a hole behind, a 7 foot jet of brown water burst through. I slipped over in it and fell, with the jet pounding the bathroom door above me. A gazillion falling sharp pieces. A blood jet shot upwards through the water jet as my hand hit the floor. My thumb was cut deep with no feeling. It was a 7 ft jet of brown water flooding the bathroom. It smashed the bathroom door open and started spraying the electrics and the fridge and the lights in the other room. The blood from my hand pouring out, painting the porcelain and the glass and my toothbrush red on the flooding floor. The bathroom filled up with brown water and the pieces of glass and porcelain started to float. I figured I might bleed out and die. I grabbed a towel and wrapped it around my hand, went through to the bedroom and put on some shorts and a t-shirt.m
It was midnight and quiet. The water jet was very loud behind me. It looked like a missile had hit the bathroom. I pulled the curtains back to get out of the apartment, bloodying them with handprints. There was a tattoo parlour next door with the lights still on. I looked through the window. Three young Thais in there, drinking and vaping, watching a movie. I banged on the window, smearing my gushing thumb. They were two women and a man sat in chairs. The women froze, winced, the guy came out. He got on his moped and rode down to the 7-11. Came back with bandages and disinfectant. He tied a t-shirt around my arm and dressed the wound. I went back into the room and the bedroom was now flooded with that awful sound. I put my i-Pad, phone and valuables on the bed. Shut the bathroom door and mailed the Airbnb landlady.
“Emergency. The room is flooding and I’m injured, come now.”
I remembered she was studying her Masters in London.
Nevertheless, her family were over in about twenty minutes. Mum, Dad, sister. Dad went into the room and shut off the water. Mum and sister drove me to ER. I would buy the tattoo parlour guy a bottle of whisky when I got back. They took me to the Ram hospital which they said was more expensive but better. The sister joked that if they took me to the government hospital, they’d make her put the stitches in.
At the Ram, a male nurse poured a bottle of disinfectant into the wound while a female doctor wiped the wound with big-headed q-tips. She asked me to wiggle my thumb. I had full movement, but no feeling. The doctor jabbed the anesthetic needle in, around the gash. She sewed it up with 15 stitches while the male nurse hovered, with a squeeze-bottle of disinfectant. She did a good job. So go there if you have to.
I got medication from a hole in the wall, paid, and Mum and daughter took me home.
It was 2am when we got back. Dad had cleaned the place up – removed the debris from the floor, cut the water off, drained the floor, taken down the bloody curtains. There was no sink, just a hole with a pipe sticking out. He told me he’d be round at 11 in the morning to fit a new sink, and that he was sorry.
“ No, no, it’s not your fault,” I said. “ It’s just one of those things.”
Although it was an antiquated sink with no pillar, be careful with stuff here.
With the door having been open the whole time, some mosquitoes had gotten in. I heard one around my ear while I lay, turned up the air-con, which got rid of it.
I went back to the hospital the next morning for cleaning. When I got back to the room, there was a new sink with a pillar. I had to get it cleaned every day as the water was dirty. It cost about 10,000 all in all. Oh well. There’s still little feeling but I can move it perfectly. The doctor did a professional job. Just a heads up on where to go if you come off a scooter or something.
