Theloopylululog

It’s 1 am.

I am in a strange bed in a room that is not mine, in a land that is too hot and humid to call mine.

An earth-shattering pain awakens me. My head feels like it’s experiencing an earthquake that could easily shatter the Richter scale.

My stomach decides to follow the jamboree. It caves in. I spend the next hour in physical distress. I am frantic about the next day’s plan as I have a bus to catch six hours later. There’s business waiting and places to be.

BUT I am not at my wits’ end.

I calmly (as much calm as I can muster) reach for my tried and trusted fail-safe emergency medical kit, pop a painkiller, and take the regular antimicrobial medication my doc prescribes for me.

By morning, my condition had worsened. I didn’t panic. Not yet.

I called my sister’s friend who lived where I was supposed to reach hours from then. I somehow made it to the bus and reached my destination four hours later. The friend met me at the bus stand and took me straight to a hospital.

The doctor who attended to me was shocked and wondered how I had made it this far. My BP was 60/40 mm Hg. He was surprised I was even conscious and standing!

I was put on IV saline and fluids and held for observation for an hour or two.

It’s fifteen years since then and I still remember that night in the room with the tacky red velvety curtains.

Would I have survived that night if not for the emergency medical kit I never leave home without? I doubt it.

Imagine being in my place without the life-saving painkillers and antimicrobial medications that kept me on my feet until I could find my way to a hospital.

You don’t realize how difficult it is to find a specific stomach medication until you are on the road searching for a medical shop that is open in the wee hours and, if open, willing to give you medication without a prescription—all this drama when you are already feeling terrible at an ungodly hour, ready to shit your pants again, literally.

My one piece of travel advice I always follow religiously is to carry an emergency medical kit with all the essentials and some medications customized to my body’s needs.

Am I paranoid? No. I just want my peace of mind when I travel. I have been sensitive to plenty of things ever since childhood, so it’s now a habit to pack the medical kit first before clothes and other essentials go into the suitcase.

I would rather be proactive and save myself from embarrassment and agony than be sorry, stranded in the middle of a strange country, trying to mime my way to get my hands on a simple antihistamine while my face is on its way to compete for the largest inflamed body part competition.

Nothing fancy: just over-the-counter painkillers, an itch cream, allergy medications, medications for common stomach bugs, a cough syrup, a basic antibiotic, antiseptic cream, some bandages, a packet of glucose, oral rehydration salts and a sanitizer.

My one piece of travel advice I always follow is this: chuck the fancy shoes, that shimmery sheath dress you know you are never going to wear on safari, the make-up you hide under the socks, and all those gazillion things you forget you packed until the day you come home to unpack—and instead take that emergency medical kit you think you can leave behind.

It’s the only thing that will make you feel invincible. And that is exactly how we want to feel when we are out there in unexplored land with a virgin itinerary, screaming CARPE DIEM!