Under the Knife

My wife’s nephew is off to hospital tomorrow, he’s just turned five years old and had the first operation when he was three; things turned out to be not quite right so they said they would do a replay in a few months time then decided the ongoing pain would be too much for a three year old. Now he tells me he is a big boy and is going back to the doctors. In plain English he was born with something wrong with his penis, too many holes to pee out off was the first diagnosis then un-descended testicles were a problem and it appeared the whole urinary tract needed a remake. One wonders whether in a less enlightened society they would just shave the whole lot off and feed him female hormones but this is all boy we are talking about. He was sent home on his first day of school with a black eye, and proudly demonstrated to me how he had punched a much bigger boy in the eye first. He has always hung around our house, his Mum does the cleaning and he comes down and watches the cartoon channel on weekends. On the Thai TV he likes “Oonterman”, as close to Ultra-man as a Thai boy can get.

His name is EQ, the E isn’t the affectionate diminutive that Northern Thais use, it is part his real name, well, his nick name, like all Thais only his mother will remember his real name in twenty years.

EQ decided he hated school and devoted a his first year to avoiding it. One memorable day he slipped off in the lunch break, going down to his aunties who had a shop down the road. Under pressure at the time she gave him a bag of crisps and sat him in front of the TV, intending to make inquiries later. In true Thai style she forgot he was there and a school search party, after determining that he hadn’t gone home, was organising a team of guys to start dragging the nearby river when a frazzled auntie hauled him back to school protesting at the injustice of it all.

I’ve seldom heard this kid cry from pain; when he was rolling on the ground wrestling with his cousin last year and they inadvertently flattened a nest of the large black ants that are a pest here. The screaming older cousin had to be literally caught so the infuriated ants could be removed. EQ just stood there silently with a few tears running while we plucked them off and I daubed the bites with cortisone cream. He cries from anger and frustration when stopped or prevented from doing something he wants to do but rarely from pain. Not even when the bandages first came off when he was three.

As if five days a week at school wasn’t enough for a four year old, as he was when he started, I saw him being carted off on a Saturday. Enquiries showed he was off to free English classes that the local Christians were running. He staggered in about five that day and collapsed on the lounge, barely able to concentrate on Tom and Jerry. I asked for a demonstration of his new English skills while my wife poured him a coke. “One two three four five” he sang wearily. Poor little bugger.

He enjoyed the Christmas party though; having his photo taken with the visiting American Pastor and his wife and getting a certificate proclaiming him their adopted Thai son. I’ll always treasure the look on his mother’s face when I made a quick translation of that for her.
He’s not always a good boy and one day after a major disagreement with his father I saw him coming down the laneway with a small suitcase and a face like thunder. “Pai Nai” I inquired, where are you going? “Pai KrungTep” he said, I’m off to Bangkok, with an anxious look over his shoulder to make sure that Mair was still in hot pursuit.

So what do you do for a good mate who’s heading off to have his cock remodelled? Apart from sympathetic wincing and shuddering it’s a bit hard. I had a look at the toys in Big C today but they were all crappy; chips and candy were an option but he’s not a greedy kid and often politely refuses them if he’s down the corner shop when I’m there.
So I gave him a hundred baht and a hug and wished him the best.

Chock Dee Kap, EQ.
Good luck.

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