BETTER THAN XANAX

I say Saving the World One Lollipop at a Time.
It’s just my silly phrase.
Or depending on the time of day, Saving the World One Glass of Wine at a Time.
I guess this is what? Saving the World One Tarantula Leg at a Time.
Fried tarantula does NOT taste like chicken. I only tried it because I didn’t want to be called a chicken. I only ate the leg. Couldn’t stomach the hairy stomach. Especially when they said it was with egg sac.
Who eats arachnid embryo? Everyone in Phnom Penh. It’s a delicacy. A bargain too. Two tarantulas for a dollar. Eight legs for 50 cents. Only bought it because the woman selling the spiders wouldn’t let me take a photo for free. She suggested I wash it down with coconut juice. She said “It’s Happy Hour”. My Happy Hour usually involves grape, not coconut juice.
But my happiest hours are on missions.
I went on a medical mission with Mending Kids International to Cambodia.
Let me back that up…first I lost my TV job. Then I went on a mission.
Let me back that up a bit more. First I lost my job. Then went to Africa, and then to Asia with Mending Kids. Volunteering on a mission is (a little) like vacationing with a purpose. The purpose being that saving the world one thing at a time thing.
And I have the time.
A bunch of us of a certain age (say over 30) are losing our TV jobs. So I dragged another LA news woman with me.
Ana Garcia is an investigative reporter. She spent a decade at KNBC. I spent two decades at FOX doing Good Day LA.
Now we travel the world eating spiders and saving lives.
Only Ana didn’t eat the spider. And neither of us can save a life.
But we did go to The Kingdom of Cambodia with Mending Kids. Mending Kids sends surgeons to the sickest of the sick and the poorest of the poor. They actually ARE saving the world…one child at a time.
But how do two chicks without paycheck do this?
My husband asks that too. He says my charity work costs him money. It does. But not too much. Ana actually saved money when she was working (wish I’d thought of that). She flew to Asia in style on the Hello Kitty plane. For a no shit investigative journalist she gets pretty giddy about Hello Kitty.
I went steerage with my friend Juan Ramirez. Juan’s an amazing photographer and a flight attendant for United. We use his employee passes to fly standby. We’ve gone around the world twice this way. It’s cheap. But you get the very last seat. Could be First Class, or last row, or your shit out of luck (what does that phrase even mean?)
Once I got the jump seat (the one for flight attendants with small butts) from Germany to Ethiopia. The map of the flight path shows Benghazi, Mogadishu and other places you don’t need to visit. We stopped in Sudan. You land on a bumpy runway, the only other plane I could see was from the UN. I was the last on and prayed I wouldn’t be the first off when the Sudanese started boarding. I didn’t exactly have a place to stay in Khartoum. That whole flying standby thing feels (a little) like the Amazing Race.

To get to Cambodia we flew to Tokyo. Ten hours in the last row, window seat. Couldn’t get up to pee and my bladder is the size of a pea. But I had Kevin Spacey to distract me. Watched the entire season of House of Cards. And daydreamed about that crazy Astronut who wore diapers driving cross country.

Three hour layover in Tokyo. To buy or not to buy the sake bottle in the shape of a sumo wrestler? I wrestled with this. But ultimately left him in the Duty Free shop.

Six hours to Bangkok. Middle seat. But on the up side I got carded. Then there’s that time zone appropriate drinking dilemma. Coffee, tea or is it wine time? I got a Bloody Mary. I think that’s OK all day.

We had to overnight for a morning flight. So we had One Night in Bangkok. Thai massages in Thailand for 10 bucks an hour! The massage was cheaper than the cheese. The hotel had a cheese room. A buffet of Brie and Havarti, all the Gouda you can eat for 50 bucks. The cheese room cost more than the hotel room. I couldn’t resist. It was the most expensive thing on the trip. Should have had a 5 hour massage instead.

After all I was in pain. I was breaking in new sneakers on the trip. I tripped. Almost broke my arm and my ass. That’s what I get for wearing flats. We stopped at a drug store and found some numbing cream and diet candy! It’s made with Tamarind. Tastes terrible and did not stop the Cheddar Fest.

We felt obligated to hit the red light district called Patpong. I saw many things one could do with a pingpong ball in Patpong.

One Night in Bangkok felt like Hangover 4. One more gratuitous story. We had two taxi drivers. One yelled at us the entire ride. He was either drunk or crazy. The other thought I was Jennifer Aniston.
So he was either drunk or crazy too.

Two hours to Phnom Penh. Almost there. Flying Bulgaria Air. It seemed sketchy to me until I tried the pastries.

First thing you see when you land in Cambodia is a Burger King. Just like home. Except for the crushing poverty. About 80% of the people in Cambodia don’t have what we would call a toilet.

With some trepidation, and tons of toilet paper… Ana, Juan and me, The Three’s Company of charity, had arrived.

More importantly the doctors did too. The volunteer medical team came from the Philippines. Three kick ass chick cardiologists, three surgeons and a bunch of nurses who can love a child back to life. They showed up and scrubbed in.

My “job” is to make sure the doctors have toilet paper and junk food. We bring our own. And apparently I did not bring enough TP. Did a piss poor job on that one. But we had candy! I had pounds of M & M’s and lollipops with me. Funny to see heart surgeons living on candy and KFC. Yes they have KFC in Cambodia. Let’s just assume it’s actually chicken.

Of course I did save some candy for the kids.

Nothing stops a crying baby like a lollipop. That’s called saving the world, and your sanity, one lollipop at a time.

My other “jobs” are playing with the kids and praying with the parents. I just like being around their miracle.

Our first patient was an old guy for us, a teen ager. He’s 17, had 2 years to live, and he’s a Monk. Yon Dara knew he would die without surgery. He also knew his family couldn’t afford it. He found out about our cardiac mission and showed up at the hospital when the doctors did. The doctors discussed his heart some volunteers tried to comfort him. The more they tried, the more upset he got. He did not speak English so he couldn’t say- FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DON’T TOUCH ME. Then Ana started yelling “Oh My God…He’s a Monk”. You aren’t allowed to touch a Monk, unless you happen to be his heart surgeon. But Yon Dara had taken off the orange robes of a Monk and put on a hospital robe. So no one knew until our investigative reporter figured it out. Ana made everyone step away from the Monk. She immediately became his best friend.

After his surgery she spent hours reading to our young Monk. She read him the biography of Sonia Sotomayor. He had no idea what the hell she was saying but it was soothing. Using his tiny bit of English he asked Ana her age. She told the truth. He almost fainted. Weak heart I guess. Maybe he thought she was closer to his age (a Cambodian cougar?) Or maybe he thought she was Sandra Bullock. The doctors said Ana looked like Sandy. And how often do you get to see Sandy B and Jennifer Aniston together in Asia?

See why we travel? You put on some lip gloss and they think you’re a star.

It was hard to say goodbye to our Monk. Especially since we couldn’t hug him. When his heart is mended he hopes to come to the US. You know he’ll show up on Ana’s doorstep. There must be an Adopt a Monk program somewhere.

I spent most of my days playing with Dora the Explorer. A girl as adorable as Dora with the same bowl hair cut. She’s 5 and had 5 things wrong with her heart. Including a hole in her heart about the size of Dora’s backpack.

My little 5 year old had a 6 hour surgery.

Why do I always fall in love with the complicated cases?

Dora’s family slept on the floor of the hospital. They came from far away and had no where to stay. I looted my suitcase for clean clothes to give her big sister. Only hookers (and I) wear short skirts in Cambodia. So I searched for something long-ish. She looked stylish in my black Zara dress.

The entire family comes with the patient. They bring what we would use as a yoga mat and sleep on that. No cafeteria, so they bring food. No blood bank, so they bring family to give blood.

We all volunteered to give blood for an emergency surgery on a baby. I was with Dr. Bernie, one of our kick ass Cardiologists, when the parents came in. They had come from another hospital. They’d been told there was no hope. Their 7 month old was going to die. I was in tears as Chantha Bob, our wonderful translator from Hearts Without Boundaries, explained that our surgeons would try.

Doctor B was scrounging around for paper. She wanted to show the parents what the surgeons had to do. Dr. B had used the back of a pizza box to write down the OR schedule. When supplies are short you get creative. You should see some of the things we used for toilet paper.

She found paper and drew a picture of the babies heart. My heart was in my mouth. It’s too complicated to comprehend. Only half her heart was working. The babies veins were all on one side. It would be incredibly complicated to straighten out the mess in this little chest.

Yet “Dora’s” surgery was even more complex.

This is rhetorical (and repetitive) but why do I always fall in love with the complicated cases?

The surgeons saved the baby. And they saved Dora. In a week they saved 38 kids. Or we thought they did. A week after surgery an 18 month old died. One of our doctors once said “we get these kids when they are already half dead”. The heart patients have blue lips and finger tips. Their bodies are starving for oxygen. And for food too. About 40% of the kids under 5 in Cambodia are undernourished. And this one baby was so sick. We’re all heartsick over this.

But still the mission was a huge success. So many lives saved. And so many lives will be saved because our doctors teach the local doctors.

Not a bad mission for the volunteers either. In Ethiopia we’re lucky to get a hot shower. In Cambodia we got a Thai massage. Again for 10 dollars. I plugged in my curling iron (I over pack) and almost burned down the hotel. We found (their version of) a DRY BAR. Wash and blow dry for yes…10 bucks. We are (at heart) still TV girls who love the hair chair. Massage or blow dry? It was our 10 dollar Sophie’s Choice.

Ana and I (and our sometimes straight hair) spent our days at the hospital. Then we’d drink a little dinner. At least you have some idea what’s in the wine. We had some food I could not (and do not care to) identify. I do know there were fire ants in the rice. The ants get stuck in your teeth. There are crunchy. In Cambodia they eat everything thing that moves. Snakes, rats and bats (chicken of the cave). After one tarantula I went back to cheese.

Never needed my Imodium. Everyone had diarrhea but me. Between the cheese and the Cipro…I may never go again.

We spent many an evening bitching about the Wi-Fi. I know I was in Cambodia but I wanted my twitter.

Ana posted a photo of me sleeping (drooling and/or snoring) as the hotel IT guy tried to get us Wi-Fi. I have not completely forgiven her for that. By the way Ana snores. She claims I do too. But I think mine is more like a kitten’s purr.

We were often the only woman at the Muslim coffee shop (most people are Buddhists, but there are Muslims and Christians). They make a great iced coffee that we downed quickly (don’t drink the ice!) We went for the coffee and the Wi-Fi. It was so good Ana Face Timed her dog. Everyone stopped to see the crazy American lady chat with Jerry the yappy (sorry Ana…payback for the drooling photo) Chihuahua.

So many stray dogs there. One minute I wanted to take a child home, the next I wanted to take a puppy.

We were girls on a mission, in more ways than one. We took Tuk Tuks everywhere. This is take taking your life in your hands. They’re carts pulled by a motorcycle. Only costs a dollar, but it’s worth your life to get across town to the market. People drive in whatever damn direction and lane they please. It’s a lot like LA in that way.

The market has everything from statues of Buddha, to knock off bags to bugs. You could lose your lunch looking at the food. Rows of pig snouts, pigs feet and spiders to eat.

Ana that wuss (enough payback?) wouldn’t try the spider.

If you are ever in Cambodia at least try the fried spider.

As mentioned it does not taste like chicken. Tastes more like crab. The legs taste like a taro chip.

I don’t like spiders and snakes, especially for lunch and dinner.

Yet somehow I gained a few pounds. So much for the spider and cheese diet. Now that I’m home I’m on the fiber diet.

I know I should say the best part of the trip is helping a child. And it is. But the other best part is forgetting your own shit. I know that’s the third time I’ve used that word, but it works so well as a noun, a verb, or an adjective.

You forget your own crap (is that word that better?) by doing something for someone else. I think it’s more effective than Xanax.
And as much as I fell in love with the gracious people of Cambodia, you don’t have to go over the rainbow to do this. As the other Dorothy says–you can do it by looking no further than your own back yard. Just do something small for someone else…every day.

That’s all I mean by saving the world one lollipop at a time. And believe me the world I’m saving, the life I’m saving….is mine.

Having acknowledged you don’t have to fly 19 hours to accomplish this… I’m still planning another trip with Ana.

Right after my trip to the potty