Vietnam day 2

5:00 AM on the dot the town speakers sound with music. Never miss a day. After a pleasant 2 minute soft song, a woman's voice comes on the speaker to start out the morning communist propaganda and announcements, followed by a man continuing the same. Big Brother doesn't want you to start your day without him.

Room service? As a guest of a home? Wow. One of the aunts, we’ll call Aunt General, calls early in the morning to inquire of our take-out hankerings. An hour later she arrives to our room with a big basket full of assorted foods, including more coconut jelly. I OD’d on that stuff yesterday, so I have to pass or puke. That hospitality though…

After my husband and I fill our bellies, we head downstairs to check on grandma. She sleeps on her side on a twin bed covered in a sheet of woven wooden beads. She always wears a beanie, socks, and a sweater, even though the rest of us are dripping with sweat all day. Her frail little body and gentle voice warm your heart in ways too difficult for me to explain. Before we leave her room, she says she has a gift for me. She pulls up her sweater to retrieve a key from her pocket, unlocks one of the cabinets of her headboard, and pulls out a bright orange plastic container that looks like something you would store your mouthguard in. She opens it up to reveal a pair of jade and gold earrings wrapped in a tissue. My husband interprets that she says “I don’t have much to give, but these were given to me by my grandmother, and I saved them for you.” These 19th century, antique earrings she saved for some stranger who would marry her prized grandson. I feel wholly unworthy, but graciously accept. After many thank-you’s, a few pictures, and tucking her back in, we get her up to her table to eat some breakfast. Only two days ago did she return home from a week in the hospital. She’s feeling a bit under the weather, and we plan out a list of meds to get her from the pharmacy. While sitting with her, another aunt (we'll call Aunt Joy) comes into the room with her two-year-old son. Aunt Joy nearly always has a big grin across her face, with wide eyes and rounded cheeks. She and her very mischievous two-year-old have been living with grandparents since the pandemic started. The two-year-old, who is mostly referred to as Panda, gets into everything. Every drawer, every appliance, every bottles. Cabinets and drawers are taped up to deter his destructive behaviors and impulses. Grandmom is not too impressed by theses behaviors, so resorts to keeping a little leather switch on-hand to swat him away from forbidden objects and rooms. He's not a fan of the switch, as you'd guess. 

My husband and I shower up and make plans to head over to Aunt General’s hardware store—a good basecamp for any errands we need to run in town. There are very few cars around here. Every family owns at least one motorbike; if they are really poor, just a bicycle. Even the roads in our family’s neighborhood cannot fit a sedan—solely made for motorcycles. Anything brought in, is brought in on a motorcycle. Including people. As a rule, only two adults fit safely on the motorbikes, however from what I have seen, you can pile as many children and babies on there that you’d like. My husband opts to ride grandpa’s vintage bicycle into town, while I saddle up with Uncle 10. At the store, Aunt General promptly orders my husband and I much appreciated iced beverages:  iced coffee and sugar cane drink, respectively. I hang out with Aunt while my husband heads across the street to the pharmacy to gather our list of items. Traffic is bustling and loud, even though it is a seemingly low-populated area. It’s very busy at the open-faced hardware store, with an average of two customers at a time constantly. In between seeing customers, Aunt has me sample a variety of fruits, and finally sets me up with a grapefruit the size of my head and a knife to peel and prepare it on a plate. The membranes inside the grapefruit are so tough, you don’t even eat them—you just eat the pulp in small bite-sizes. Aunt adds a dry-rub for dipping that is reminiscent of Mexican candy. A young gal shows up and does some paperwork with Aunt General. They try to introduce me, but I still don’t understand who she is. As she squats on the ground talking on the phone, I move my belongings, and invite her to sit next to me on the bench. After she hangs up her call, she shows my a text thread between she and my husband in her phone. I still can’t put two and two together. My husband arrives only a few minutes later with big eyes so happy to see her. He immediately gives her a big hug and messes with her ears and chin in a big-brother way as they banter. “This is my cousin.” Moving forward, she will be referred to as Cousin Sassypants. She’s my age and unmarried (which is a big deal in the Vietnamese culture); she owns her own business and takes great care of her family (which are also big deals in the Vietnamese culture). 

After chatting for a bit, Cousin Sassypants offers to give me a ride back to the house on her motorbike. My husband stays to help Aunt General by tending to customers before he trails behind on the bicycle. 

We immediately go see grandmom to decide on how to go about giving the IV fluids, vitamins, and medications we picked up earlier. She’s been eating very little, so we want to give her a little nutrition boost. The medical supplies in Vietnam have some differences from the ones we are accustomed to in the states, so we learned the system, blew one of the IV lines during set-up as we tried to jimmy-rig somethings, and finally had a patent and durable IV system. Although I have only ever used plastic IV’s, by the divine intervention I am able to gently place the metal needle into her frail vein without any issues. We wait with her as we fill her body with the nutrients she had lacked. She melts my heart by saying she wishes I had been her nurse at the hospital because I am more gentle. After the fluids finish, she is feeling a lot better. At the time of IV fluids, I get the pleasure of meeting another aunt, who we will refer to as Aunt Gentle. Physical touch is definitely her love language, and she operates in it very well. A very warm spirit. She speaks paragraphs upon paragraphs, as if it is assumed I know exactly what she's saying. It's sweet. I'd much prefer that than having people not talk to me at all. Aunt Gentle comes every night, since grandmom has been sick, to give her a bath. All the children show a lot of love and care in their own way.

My husband and I head up to give dad some IV fluids as well. He caught that food poisoning the other day, and hasn’t felt too hot sense. He is reluctant and nervous at first, but with one stick I am also able to get his metal IV in, and we let him relax in front of the TV as he rehydrates. After fluids are done, he says he feels loads better. 

It’s been a fulfilling day.