the smashed elephant in the room is me
sharing "tmi" tales of psa + ptsd from the past week
Hey, loves.
Perhaps you’re aware of *something* extra intense weaving its way into my ongoing big-life hiatus in very recent time. And no, not the horrific Mandalay [Myanmar] earthquake you may have heard about. Though, that’s technically close and my heart goes out. Literally, my heart. My chest. My ribs.
Perhaps, on a lighter note that I’m not quite sure how to even hint at besides just going there, you were almost as ready as I was for the arrival of jess’ handy-dandy airbnb cooking tips.
Cause I kept hinting at it. It’s a draft and way of life in progress. What isn’t.
There’s a bit of glee in the peace - and peace in the glee - of what I get from the 3 remaining meals I’m still able to cook. On the road. Across another continent. With basic supplies yet fresh ingredients. Four decades into my humble human existence. Peace and glee. Smidges.
And perhaps, you just can’t look away right now. You’re reading on in sympathy + expected horror as someone who’s picked up on the vibe from my insta stories or sub’scrap notes or some deeper, cross the keyboards, psychic insight.
The smashed elephant in the room is me.
Come evening on Saturday, March 22nd, I hopped on my then-trusty bicycle to check out the massive MAILISA concert on the Da Nang, Vietnam waterfront. I did not get far. I do not remember much.
I was hit by a speeding motorbike, and taken by ambulance to Bệnh viện Đà Nẵng/Da Nang Hospital.
I woke up in Intensive Care, and spent most of the past week being treated for “chest trauma, rib fracture and pneumothorax” on the Thoracic Surgery floor.
It has been surreal. All sore.
Pain, that I had not known before.
NO: as many understandably inquire and hope, I do not have travel health insurance and have paid out of pocket.
That said, the costs are RIDICULOUSLY more manageable vs. what they would be in the States. Though, yes, remain unexpected, additional expenses of a multiple-day hospital stay, medications, bandages, scar cream and follow-up visits during my rather (admirably!) frugal eat / read / cope & “big life change” journey. That obviously can’t go on forever, anyway. Them’s the truth.
I will passionately point out that the local hospital staff was round-the-clock-professional and endearing. Perpetually translating information and well wishes, dressing me and my many, many awful wounds, feeding me vegetarian/chay meal trays, helping me through trauma & nauesea & keeping me hydrated, TMI briefly rocking bedpans (!!), rolling me to the bathroom (!!!!), helping me use the facilities and not batting an eye when I got my surprise extra-trauma-time period (!!!!!!), reminding me I was human, and simply talking about this & that of the cutesy + mundane.
Basically, making it all way more OK in an international, solitary nightmare.
What a tale. And I’m in it.
And while I evidently and dramatically, parted ways with my very favorite pair of retro clip-on earrings from the thrift store in Livingston, MT, a missing rental bicycle (that I do need to pay to replace, D’OH) and formerly trusty book of New York Times Spring Fling Crosswords I’ve been traveling with for over a decade - I’m alive and eventually, kicking.
I’M ALIVE.
I’d beat my chest to attest, if I could. Make that a very gentle nudge.
And yes, this uh, break-down, does change my ongoing itinerary a bit, and some dear friends are making it possible for me to slow down and recuperate for a “bonus” month at an AirBnB here in Da Nang vs. moving on as planned this week. HA.
Because, I can’t. I can’t move much.
I checked out of the hospital and sooooo fortunately, had local help loading up my packed up (initial) monthly rental, and write now - right now - from a comfy 4-night stay at a sweet hotel my sister redeemed corporate points for.
All a doozy. I was supposed to be hanging (and biking!) in Hoi An right now.
I’m not.
Oh, my appreciation and awe for family and friends while I’m on the other side of the planet.
What a damn fortuitous time to have - in retrospect & almost flippantly - connected that “silly” “Buy jess a coffee!” button in my prior missive in the eventual lead up to being a serious sub’scrap with subscriptions and my SE Asia interview series like I’d been slowly gearing up for. In the meantime? The coffee bucks kinda sorta definitely became a lifeline.
Sooooooo.
THANK YOU impossibly to the kind humans who have found that supportive link upon hearing abut me…breaking. And before that even happened.
And to the friends who passed it around, freaking out. In the kindest way. I heart y’all.
And right here, right now. Yeah, it means a lot that you read this tender, ultra-personal missive from a private, aching jess. The memoirs continue to write themselves. <3
I’m catching up.
References + Relevant Links:
about Pneumothorax, Mayo Clinic
beep boop bánh mì, these scone archives March 15, 2025 {remember when I could casually mention traffic}
psst 👉 @scone.archives on insta
yeah, yeah, buy jess a coffee ?
Jess, I just saw this--have been off SS lately.I hope you are doing better by now-- mentally and physically. This all sounds very traumatic. Sending big hugs.
In Feb 2024 I was hit by a pickup truck while running. DIfferent bones broken, hospital stay, surgery etc. So while I can't totally say "I understand," I do a little tiny bit. You are strong. You are resilient.
Oh, My Dear, you have been through it! Rest and recover well, Jess! xx