Otis Redding in Cambodia

Okay. So, the annoying depression seems to have passed for now. Only lasting a few days seems like a pretty good deal for the fact that I'm alone and on the other side of the world. Yesterday, I really began feeling better, physically, and sure enough, the mental state followed. Today has been a good day. And I'm enjoying being here again. I think I just needed a few days to recover from the illness to pick my spirits back up. I got an email from a friend today who told me: "homesick? really? for what? everything is the same here: the traffic, people going to work. nothing is new here. everything is new where you are. enjoy it." And she is right. And then, a wonderful thing happened: Otis Redding came over the speakerbox. And I think I started to realize that I am in the middle of one of the best experiences of my life. So, no more sadness. No more homesickness. Not today. :)
I am in danger of becoming a doctor, I feel. Okay. That is an obvious joke to me, but I feel the need to let you all know that I'm kidding...to an extent. Being with these children, watching the doctors and nurses relieve some of their pain with medicines and sweetnesses, it's healing for me to just observe. But I had a conversation with the resident art therapist and she told me that when we come to their beds and draw with them, make origami for them, they forget their pain. They smile. She is right. I don't know why or how I had let that go unnoticed. Maybe we are all some kind of therapist: a therapist in whatever it is that we do best. Maybe we all look for ways to help heal each other through working in what we know. It seems logical enough. All you need is compassion.
I still feel lost when it comes to helping the children. I am unsure if I'm giving them what they need...or anything that they need for that matter. But there comes a point when you must stop wondering what you're doing for them, and put that energy towards doing more for them. I can't explain what it's like being in this hospital. The reality of it is terrifying and, at the same time, it is inspiring to be next to someone who is so brave, so determined. It's hard, even when you're talking with them, laughing with them, rubbing their bellies, to understand what their lives are like.
I would like to update you all on Bun Chine (the boy I referred to as John in beginning posts): someone from his family or from his home village has shown up to care for him. He is responding to them. They feed him and he is eating (which was not happening when I or the nurses would try).
It's funny: it seems to be true that a human being cannot find the will to carry on without an other: a lover, a friend, a relative.