It was a long an weird journey. It still is. An unsettling part of my road. But the best decision maybe I ever made. Maybe for sure. It is now one week ago that I had surgery in one of the best hospitals in Germany. I am back in Munich, where I lived the last 6 years before I escaped. Now I am back, escaped to re-escape to Cambodia again. The treatment in Siem Reap after the motorbike accident cost me around 7.000 $, not me, my health insurance. All for nothing. They accepted the costs for the return flight to Munich as well. For a fucking good reason. And it all happened just like this, couple of mails, not even a phone call. In Cambodia the locals hardly can afford a plaster. And I just take the next flight back to a best medical haven. I don´t feel remorse, why should I, I am glad, I am so glad to have this option, people around the world die because of such a messy treatment. The best part, I had treatment, at a so called International Hospital, and they just made it more worst, sliced me into a deathtrap. It emerged, that the first surgery was a screw up. The titanium plate was not wide and long enough, the promised Made-in-Germany quality, for whatever that announcement was, a japanese fake. The screws positioned more randomly than advised. The advisor itself was maybe more a Surgery-for-Dummies or suffering a nasty self-confidence, far away from controlled, like must have been in-built in Dr. Frankenstein. He fucking demented me. At the first hospital, where I got the first urgent supply, they stitched my foot and my elbow. In my foot they forgot something, sensible under my skin, sewed in my flesh. At my elbow they where not that kind and manual, they just stitched it, maybe without cleaning the spot at all. So I smuggled cambodian pebbles to Germany. In my foot a huge one, 0,8 x 0,8. I still keep the more grainy rag in my elbow. Hit by a shotgun. You leave the pellet in your body, would cause more serious damage if you try to pick and choose. I always wanted to know how it feels like to being shot, never thought about a road blasting. After arriving in Munich, jetlag, winter, rain, cold, bad forecasts, surgery, screwing, chiseling, stitching, awakening, brown bread and the first german moaning creature as a room fellow, I left the hospital on the third day. As fast as furious. The staff there named me the cambodian-victim. “Our cambodian-victim gave us something for our thank-you box!” Love it! The doctors were kind of horrified about my condition, I suppose less of the treatment in Cambodia. I had to realize and experience with flesh and blood, Cambodia is Third World. The mid part of my twice fractured collarbone was already dead standing. Risks reaching from palsy to death. I got a bone transplantation, chiseled some 3 cm ot of my pelvic bone. Fucking hurts more then my shoulder itself now. Weird pain, more structural. My foot was surprisingly still fine. No infection. So all the expected in worst case treatment horror was just a bad nightmare on the eve of surgery day.
Call it a blessing in disguise that I broke my collarbone a couple of weeks after the first surgery in Cambodia again. It is hard not to believe in something like fortune, that this is all just a hazard, luck and I feel like I am the luckiest man on this planet, trust me, even if I have days of desperation now, by the fact that I have to enjoy winter, I hate the cold and after more than 7 months it is freezing cold. By the fact that I am not with my cambodian family, best friends, sister and brothers, however you wanna call it, but best people of the universe, teaching me every day that life is precious and worth to live. Back here, in Germany, I had my first monday experience. Monday, friday, saturday sunday, who cares! I don´t, I haven´t since the last months, but I felt like monday on monday. Had to visit the doctor for some prescription. Try to dress yourself with your right arm, your left arm hanging around like a dead flesh sleeved sack, and you are not allowed to move it above 45° degrees, with a left in general you are not want to shift your weight on, sucking iliac crest. So, of course you look like a bum, half dressed, two sunny jackets hanging around your neck like drunken, with a huge plaster covering your shoulder, arm sling and a cap, folding your left ear. On top of that, the tatts in my face and the horny hobbling, not gangsta style at all, more the appearance of a junky. Never get in the last months so much suspiciousness, no help and no sympathy. Antipathy. Distaste. I was obviously in a fucked up situation, at the ticket counter for the subway, on the stairs, on the street, wherever, no help, no support, no questioning, not even a smile. In Siem Reap the guy with no legs in his wheelchair would have asked me if he can give me a ride, for sure. Welcome back to the place where I didn´t feel belonged to, thanks for reminding me why. Yesterday I went to the supermarket for some shopping. At a so called bio shop, where I used to buy my need since the last 6 years, where the design, flyers, notice-board, prices and all that other fancy bullshit lifestyle claim, employees and customers are aware of each other and the nature, their surrounding itself. No help. Just starring. I could hear their minds judging, “Who is this junky?” Even if I would be – whatever. I left the market. It was raining. I underestimated the weight and the fact that I can only carry the bags on my right and that this will also effects my left, especially my pelvis. I was in terrible pain, step by step. The fucking eco paper bags will not last long in the rain. I was just hoping that the content will colour the plashy grey walk close to the apartment, where I found a small island of love. People passing, scanning me – I saw fear in their eyes. What da fuck are you scared of, to do something right? To do something? That I will suffocate you with my arm sling? Or say thank you for your help, I don´t know how this would have ended – Ha???!!! Oh yes, I would like to suffocate them all, one by one. I did it to a pharmacy, where I bought some needless shit, just to get a bigger plastic bag. The employees their, watching me reloading. I know it is not all of them, but, it is not my culture anymore. I despise their habits and blindness. I don´t wanna live here anymore and I won´t, that´s the best part of, I don´t have to and I won´t. YES!!!
On the other hand, I am the luckist man, my health insurance enables me something, which most people on this planet can not engage – Treatment. Wherever I am. I caught the plane, just like a taxi. My people back home in Siem Reap will never touch the carpet of a plane at all. They will never feel the pressure during take-off. They will never see the world from above. The flight back to Germany was more a psychodelic trip. On drugs, I have been taken painkillers the last 5 weeks, and pain, you can get used of it, if you accept that it is a matter of fact, a part of the healing process, so it is not pain, it is healing, but not yet of course, the last third of my collarbone was stinging against my neck musculature or what was left of it – struggling with the fact, that I couldn´t make exercise for the ast coupe of weeks and I will not for the next three months, getting out of shape, HELL, sick and a narcissist, exhausting, tell you. I had always a seat at the aisle. Always the timezone walkers, creaky steamed skirts of the stewardesses and their rolling food stalls on my left. Your whole body starts to protect your weakness, your poor spot, left shoulder down, turning to the front, inside, wanted to be covered by my right, like searching cover under a wing. If men would be more aware of their surrounding, not punched, knocked out by a permanent firing media, schedules, 24 hours rushing hours, rapid advance, fear, madness, sadness and the fact that we don´t feel human anymore even if we still are, which I guess scares the shit out of us at most, my opposite hand tells me… you can see the impacts, the causes of this fighting, how we walk, wait, sit, lay down, in embryo, embryonically, searching for protection. Like me. The flow of your bodies is our most naked psychological fracture.
I am the luckiest man on earth, I have family and friends and of course the best one.
I can´t express in words how much I appreciate your companion, your love and your greatness. I only can eypress it with my hunger for life, by desire to live, this is my present I can offer you, that you make my life worth to live. Thank you for being my passion.