Days in the Life of a Pattaya Hotel Owner

After several weeks of this personal destruction, I decided to visit the doctor. My moods were now really threatening to get me into some serious trouble as I would either totally ignore or, worse still, bark at anyone who deigned they had the right to talk to me. Even at the hospital, I shouted at the triage nurse. She was only taking my blood pressure when she asked what my symptoms were. “Why — are you going to fix them?!?” I responded gruffly. She stood and smiled, not the calm smile of the caring nurse, but the inane grin of a Thai who has arrived at a place she does not want to be. “I will tell the doctor and just in case you were wondering, my problem is nothing to do with my dick!” I added.

Having been advised that my blood pressure was fine — fortunately it always is — I sat back in the waiting area. A few seconds later, time to get my pen out and open the newspaper at the crossword page but no more, I was called into the doctor’s office. Aching limbs, constantly sleepy, lethargic, depressed angry with everyone, and suicidal thoughts were all the symptoms I poured out. “I think you depressed,” The doctor said. “Yes, brilliant — fucking brilliant. I presume in a minute you are going to tell me I have aching limbs, am constantly tired and hate everyone — in fact just simply tell me that I have everything I have already told you I have. What are you a doctor or a fucking parrot?” I knew I had gone too far. I knew I should have just sat and nodded my head, but I could not help myself. Doctors were also high up on my hit list for this year.

Having let me calm down the doctor ran a few tests to check that I did not have arthritis or any other debilitating illness or disease and asked me about my work and life in general. There I was off again, bemoaning the fact that there was only work — there was no ‘life in general.’ Fortunately, my lethargy soon got the better of me and I could no longer be bothered to argue with the doctor or rail against the world, I simply slumped back into my chair. Medication for my aching limbs, medication to prevent the medication for my aching limbs affecting my abdomen, sleeping pills and 25mg tablets of Prozac were prescribed.

I spent something approaching 46 of the next 48 hours in bed. I slept a lot, watched television — although found little that held my attention for more than 10 minutes — and spent a vast amount of the time staring at our bedroom ceiling. Mrs. Boss bravely shouldered all of the work and, even though I knew her to be extremely tired, seemed to cope admirably. On New Year’s day I felt a little less tired and a little less achy. I still hated the world and most of its population. However, I had at least missed all of the damn false bon hommie of New Year’s Eve and that alone made me feel a little perkier. This was a signal to return to the hotel and try to at least lend a hand when I felt able.

Having returned to my desk and dealt with my plethora of e-mails summarily ignored for the past few days, I must admit to not feeling quite so down as I had been before. Perhaps this Prozac stuff is working. Perhaps I am just coming out the other side of the tunnel. Who knows? At least I have something to look forward to — a little something we all must need to keep us going through the daily grind. In early February, directly after Mrs. Boss’ birthday, I am taking off to Hua Hin for about 10 days. My pal Kevin is visiting at that time and will be helping me proof read and edit the new book. I am sure we will get a fair amount of work done and it will be nice to spend some time away from Pattaya. Kevin will be over for four days before returning to his teaching job in Hong Kong and I will spend a week chilling out by the pool or on the beach.

If this doesn’t work then I can always go out and buy myself that gun I am regularly considering obtaining!