Thailand Is Starting to Feel a Little More Real
For a while, Thailand has been an idea. Lately, that idea has started turning into actual planning.
I've been in contact with an expat in Thailand who can help me work through the logistics of getting to Hua Hin and figure out whether this could realistically work for me—and potentially for my mom as well.
There are a surprising number of moving pieces.
He's offered to help me find a condo in Hua Hin. I've already started looking at what is available, and my wish list isn't exactly small. I want something furnished, preferably three bedrooms, beachfront with an ocean view, and reasonably close to the hospital.
I'm discovering that those places actually exist without necessarily costing what a comparable beachfront condo would cost in the United States.
He can also help me figure out the appropriate Thai visa. That's one of those things where I'd much rather have someone familiar with the process help me than spend hours bouncing around the interwebs trying to figure out what is current and what was accurate three years ago.
Then there are the immediate arrival logistics.
He can arrange transportation from Bangkok airport to Hua Hin, which matters because I'd prefer not to land after a very long flight and start negotiating transportation in a country I've never visited.
He can also help arrange a temporary place for me to stay while I get situated and look at condos in person.
That makes a lot of sense to me. Pictures on the internet are wonderful, but I'd rather walk into a condo, look out the window and confirm that "ocean view" actually means I can see the ocean—not that if I lean over a balcony, look between two buildings and squint really hard, there's a tiny patch of blue in the distance.
There's also Mom.
We've discussed the possibility of eventually having her in Thailand, and this expat may be able to help arrange a caretaker. That would require more research and planning, but knowing resources are available makes the idea less overwhelming.
He even mentioned helping me get a Thai driver's license.
I'll pass.
I don't have an urge to drive in Thailand. I think I'll be perfectly happy using ride-share services, taxis, and other transportation. Somebody else can navigate the traffic while I sit in the passenger seat and look out the window.
Then There's the Big One: Dialysis
Everything else is secondary if I can't work out dialysis.
Today, I emailed Bangkok Hospital Hua Hin to ask what I'd need to receive hemodialysis there during an approximately 30-day visit to Thailand.
For me, this isn't optional travel planning. I need hemodialysis three times a week, so before I start getting too excited about beachfront condos and ocean views, I need to know that my medical care can continue safely and reliably while I'm there.
I want to know what records they need from my dialysis provider in the United States, how far in advance treatment must be arranged, scheduling, costs, payment requirements, and anything else an international dialysis patient needs to do before arriving.
Now I wait for their response.
If Bangkok Hospital Hua Hin can accommodate me for a month, that's a pretty significant piece of the puzzle.
Maybe 30 Days Is the Right Test
I'm not talking about getting on an airplane tomorrow and permanently moving to Thailand.
A roughly 30-day stay would give me a chance to experience Hua Hin as more than a vacation destination.
Can I comfortably get around without driving?
Can I find a condo I'd actually want to live in?
How easy is it to get groceries, go out to eat, and handle normal daily life?
Most importantly, what is it like going through my normal dialysis routine in Thailand?
Those are questions that YouTube videos, Facebook groups, blogs, and beautiful real-estate photos can't completely answer.
I need to experience it.
For now, many questions remain unanswered. But there are also fewer unanswered questions than there were a few weeks ago.
I've found someone on the ground who can potentially help with housing, visas, transportation, temporary accommodations, and care for Mom.
I've contacted the hospital about dialysis.
I've started looking at beachfront condos.
And apparently, someone is even willing to help me get a driver's license that I have absolutely no intention of getting.
One piece at a time.
Thirty days in Hua Hin might tell me whether Thailand is simply a place I'd enjoy visiting—or somewhere I could actually see myself spending a significant part of my life.
A Moment Under the Stars at 5:15 AM
At 5:15 this morning, I stepped outside to leave for dialysis and looked up.
Above the roof of the house, a constellation shone through the early morning darkness. Stars dotted the deep blue sky, framed by clouds and tree silhouettes. Before getting on my way, I paused to take in the view.
Leaving for dialysis before sunrise is part of my routine. There is a schedule to keep and a long morning ahead. But today, there was also this small moment outside my own front door—a chance to breathe and notice something beautiful.
I took this picture to carry a little of that moment with me. The appointment still waited, but the stars gave me something else to think about as I headed out.
Sometimes, a quiet moment looking up is a good way to begin the day.
Fistulagram #4: The Balloon Ride Nobody Asks For
Tomorrow morning, Tuesday, September 8th, I get to experience something that has become a recurring event in my dialysis journey:
Fistulagram #4.
If you’ve never heard of a fistulagram, you’re not alone. It’s a procedure where a doctor injects contrast dye into your dialysis access (my AV graft), takes X-ray images to see how blood is flowing, and if they find a narrowing, they inflate a tiny balloon inside the blood vessel to open it back up.
Think of it as calling Roto-Rooter… but for your bloodstream.
The goal is simple: improve blood flow so dialysis can do a better job cleaning my blood three times a week.
Now here’s the part that usually gets people’s attention…
I don’t use anesthesia.
I don’t take pain medication.
Why?
Because I want to drive myself home afterward and get on with my day.
That doesn’t mean you don’t feel anything.
When they inflate that balloon…
Oh, I know it’s there.
You can actually feel the pressure as it expands inside your arm. It’s one of the strangest sensations I’ve ever experienced. It isn’t unbearable, but it’s definitely one of those moments where you think:
“Yep… that’s happening inside my arm.”
My instructions are the usual pre-procedure fun:
🚫 No food after midnight.
🚫 No drinking after midnight.
⏰ Arrive at the hospital at 6:30 AM for a 7:30 AM procedure.
🩺 About 30 minutes for the procedure itself.
⏳ Another 30 minutes getting prepped and recovering before heading home.
And yes…
If I accidentally eat after midnight…
I’ll turn into a Gremlin.
(Okay, maybe not medically accurate… but it makes following the instructions a little more entertaining.)
Hopefully this will improve the flow through my graft and make dialysis treatments run more efficiently.
I’ll let everyone know tomorrow how Fistulagram #4 goes. Hopefully the balloon and I will continue our strange little friendship… and hopefully it’ll be a while before we’re reunited again.