dreaming in bangkok: Shaking things up!
- richlanoix
- Apr 1
- 5 min read
I was in the middle of an intense workout when the gym staff very politely and without any agitation, requested everyone to step out of the building. I thought it was perhaps a disaster drill because everyone was so calm and exited in an orderly manner. Once outside the building, I noticed masses of people on the streets standing in front of the buildings around us. I tried to ask the staff what was happening, but none spoke English. I found a Westerner who was looking intently at his mobile phone. He informed me that a 7.7 magnitude earthquake just hit Bangkok and Myanmar. 7.7! I asked if he felt anything, and he looked at me incredulously and with a gesture indicating, “Of course!” Either I was so much "in the zone” working out, or this was another example that despite the embodiment I described in my last post, my feet are still not on the ground. I didn’t feel anything!
The rest of the day was surreal. I had lost my phone the night before and was utterly disconnected from the news. I walked the two miles back to my AirBnB and again noted the throngs of people standing outside in front of the evacuated buildings and the barely moving, bumper-to-bumper traffic. Bangkok is, without question, one of the most automobile-congested cities. There are always traffic jams, but this was a magnitude of order greater than usual. What was remarkable was the calm demeanor of everyone on the streets and in their cars. No one honked their horns as they waited patiently to move forward another inch. In certain areas, everyone looked up and took pictures of the high-rise condominiums, some of which were damaged.
I wished I had my phone to capture this remarkable event. Walking in the hot 100F sun, my stomach grumbled to remind me that I hadn’t eaten anything all day. I was starving, but everything was closed except for a few street food vendors near my Airbnb. Once seated, everything from that vantage point seemed normal. I ate a delicious meal and struck up a conversation with an Englishman and his Thai wife, who were sitting next to me. They commented on the earthquake and stated that many workers died inside new buildings being constructed when those buildings collapsed. They were inside one of the nearby malls and described the violent shaking they felt when the earthquake hit. I still couldn’t reconcile the reality that I had felt absolutely nothing.
This was my third earthquake. The first was in 1987 and occurred on the first day of my one-month rotation at the Los Angeles County Emergency Department. I had arrived the night before and settled into one of the dormitories. I had just shaven that morning, and I felt an increasing tremor while putting on my tie. I thought a train was passing when I realized that Los Angeles had no trains! Simultaneously, a large diagonal crack opened on the wall, and I was flung to the floor. I heard everyone screaming, “Earthquake! Earthquake!” And instructions to get under a door frame, which- from my New York City perspective- didn’t make any sense. They tried to hold me back, but I ran down the stairs and outside the building. All I could think of was to hail a yellow cab and hightail it back to the familiarity of New York City. My very first earthquake!
I made my way to the ER, which was in chaos. I must have seemed completely out of place in my shirt and tie, and was greeted by the director. He asked me to identify myself and my level of training. When I said I was a fourth-year medical student, he beamed a smile that indicated, "Lucky you!" pointed me to the triage area to help the nurses, and said: “Lose the tie!” That earthquake was a 6.4, and I definitely felt it. The ER was overwhelmed, and the number of injured patients was staggering. I wished I had more experience to be more helpful, but reality relegated me to doing whatever I was asked to assist the staff. (It did occur to me while walking in this Dali-esque Bangkok tableau to find an ER near one of the collapsed buildings and offer to help, but I had no identification to verify that I was indeed an emergency physician, and the language barrier would have made me a hindrance.) It was precisely this sort of adrenaline rush that drew me into the specialty of emergency medicine. Still, ultimately, it was my growing compassion and empathy for the world’s suffering that sustained me during my 36-year career.
My second earthquake was in Heraklion, Crete. My ex-wife and I were making love when I felt everything start to shake. I am now embarrassed to admit and share that my first thought was that I had finally achieved such mastery of the art of lovemaking that I was making the world shake! My spell was broken when we heard everyone yelling, “Earthquake! Earthquake!” What was significant about that earthquake, magnitude 5.8, was that I immediately noticed that my ex-wife was going into a full-blown panic attack. What was remarkable was that I immediately entered a flow state where my only objective was her safety. I was pretty proud of myself because although one would like to believe that one would play the hero in such situations, it isn’t until faced with such a dramatic situation that one discovers one’s true colors.
Bangkok was my third, and I hadn’t even noticed it! It appears that while I am emulating Don Quixote in his quest to find and conquer windmills, earthquakes are on my tail! The real significance of this earthquake was the stark reminder that at any moment, our number may be up, and we can die. So, CARPE DIEM!
Perhaps because I worked for so many years in extremely busy inner-city ERs (I started as a doctor during the very beginning of the AIDs epidemic at Bellevue Hospital, then worked at Lincoln Hospital in the South Bronx for 12 years, where there were 5-10 gunshot wounds/day; and then another 12 years St. Luke’s-Roosevelt) where I witnessed so much death and violence that often came so unexpectedly, I learned that Death is a beautiful reminder to live life fully and seize each day as though it were your last.
These earthquakes served the same purpose: MEMENTO MORI: Remember! You, too, could have died here! Have you been wasting your precious, limited time on trivia (and in the grand scheme of things, IT’S ALL TRIVIA!), or have you been doing everything you REALLY wanted to do, living life fully, and EXPRESSING your love and appreciation for everyone & everything?
Death has been my steadfast and stalwart companion and has taught me that life, although devoid of any meaning other than that which we impart to it, is indeed precious. I’ve written about my dear friend Death elsewhere, and if you are so inclined to delve deeper, the links are posted below.
Aside from “Memento Mori," I understood that this 7.7 earthquake was a metaphor for how my life has been shaken up so many times by internal earthquakes, breaking up the old ways, perspectives, and the artificial edifice of a self constructed with sand mandalas. All that remains is the ABYSS, and I pray for Grace that I can look at the rubble with gratitude and walk away with no intention of rebuilding the illusion, the straw dog of identity, beliefs, and self. Although quite painful at the time of their occurrence, I now recognize that they were indeed blessings in retrospect that brought me to my present state of Grace. I now pray for these inner earthquakes where, like sand mandalas, I dissolve into NOTHINGNESS and yet sense myself in EVERYTHING without separation, wants, or needs. OM NAMAH SHIVAYA!
Re: My dear friend, Death:
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