It was around 8:30pm when Bobbi Jo, Jeff and I left the hospital. We were ravenous, especially Bobbi and Jeff, so we decided to drop our stuff at the hostel eat. We had also decided, come hell or high water, that we would be eating American food for dinner. Much to the disapproval of Dr. Ivan, it would probably be fried. And by gosh, I was having a ginger ale. He had forbade ginger ale and French fries in the hospital, even though they were the only things that made me feel better (I ate about two bites of his stuffed chicken on that second day in the hospital; it was awful).
We had been tipped off by previous Racers that there was a place in central Phnom Penh called “Freebird,” a bar and grill. Nothing says American owned quite like a restaurant named “Freebird,” so five minutes after we dropped our stuff in the hostel, we were in a tuk-tuk, destined for chicken tenders.
The menu in and of itself could have easily summoned tears. The food at our ministry is wonderful, and I don’t mean to discredit it in the least, but when you’re recovering from vomiting more times than you can count over a period of two weeks, all you want is familiar food. I didn’t have that luxury at Teen Challenge, but it was real and tangible at Freebird. I debated between a chicken quesadilla, a BLT, and chicken tenders. In the end, chicken tenders won out because it seemed the most practical. We also ordered cheese fries. CHEESE FRIES! Can you believe it?
We ate like kings. Well, I ate like a king with a very small appetite, who had been sick. But Bobbi Jo and Jeff ate like normal monarchs, I think. We eyed the desert (y’all: warm chocolate brownie with ice cream), but decided against it, because if you think you might throw up, you do not want to risk not being jaded about eating brownies for the rest of your life (tell me I’m wrong, I dare you). Our contact had called earlier in the evening to tell us we’d be picked up on Friday, so we decided that if I had kept all of my food down by Thursday night, we’d come back for dessert. We went back to the hostel and I phoned my parents to let them know what all had gone on, and when I felt a wave of nausea hit, I started to tear up. It went away, though, and I felt, in that instant, that I might be the luckiest girl in the world.
The next day (Wednesday) was very low-key. We reported to the hospital as promised and found that it was not a parasite, but that Dr. Ivan had absolutely no idea what my body was doing now. He wanted to do a pregnancy test. We all three laughed pretty hard at that. “Sorry, Dr. Ivan,” I said, “that is not necessary because it’s absolutely impossible.” He smiled and said, “If you continue to vomit, go see the specialist. I hope you feel better.” We said goodbye and thanked him for his diligent work in my recovery.
I had kept my food down, but we and hearing stories from didn’t want to risk anything by eating something crazy, so we stuck with American food. Again, we had been tipped off by previous Racers about a café nearby that had sandwiches that tasted similar to Chick-fil-a sandwiches, which are just the words to encourage a sick, Southern girl’s heart. We ventured out. Sure enough, XOTIQUE was as magical as had been described. We had to wait around a little while after we ate to make sure digestion was taking place, but it was a really fun time talking with the Andes about their future plans their past.
After we were convinced lunch was not coming back up, we walked around the Russian Market for a little while. I bought a $4 pair of sunglasses, as my others were left accidentally in Thailand (RIP). J and B were on the hunt for a chess set, so I kind of just followed them around for the better part of an hour or so. Exhaustion set in soon, though, and as they made their purchases, I was thrilled to head back to the hostel for a nap. That night for dinner, we had pizza, and I can assure that while it was not Papa John’s (or Marco’s for my Asheville people), it was every bit as glorious as any pizza I might have at home, just because I hadn’t had it in so long. We turned in early, and I got a full night’s sleep (and I pooped that night; glory!).
TO BE CONTINUED…
