On the plus side of this terrible event, I think I may be in the lead for the 2 month weight loss challenge because of my sickness. The sickness has also made me yearn for the moment when I would be able to do something as easy as go for a 20 minute walk. So, in honor of finally (I hope) getting better I signed up for a gym. A Korean gym! I had been planning on doing this for a few weeks now but I finally did it, thanks to the help of my Korean friend and co-teacher. We went after work today and checked out a health club that I had found that's super close to my apartment. I'm so proud because there are a million buildings and many levels and signs everywhere and one day I was reading the Korean writing on one and it said "helsuculup" or something along those lines that translates to "Health Club" so I knew exactly where to go to sign up. We went in and it was pretty tiny, definitely not like the Lifetime Fitness' that I'm used to out in the burbs but it was super slow, which I liked. There were probably 15 people in there all together, mostly all old Korean dudes, and me, the giant American girl. It was moderately expensive, 120,000 Won for 3 months, but I got a free locker rental out of the deal, so that's good. Anyways, I'm scheduled to go in tomorrow and I think they're going to show me how some of the equipment works, and hopefully not bug me too much. Wish me luck!
Sick in SoKo
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
Well, actually I'm getting better now, but I thought I would recap the hellish nightmare that was getting sick in South Korea. It started a week ago today. It was a Tuesday and it was also my first official day of my new 2 months of healthiness (no booze, eating well, and working out) and my body celebrated by torturing me for a week straight. It started in the chest, moved to the throat, then took over my whole body with weakness. What did I have? I have no clue because when I went to the doctor, or as they call it, the hospital, they spoke to me in Korean. So while I was being given shots and hooked up to IVs I had no idea what the fuck was going on. Obviously the most logical way to handle this is to start crying profusely like giant 24 year old American baby.. so I did. I can't help it. I'm a baby when I get sick. Even before I left I distinctly remember my mother saying "Molly, who is going to take care of you when you get sick?" The answer: Nobody. I sat alone, withering away in my shoebox apartment sleeping, crying, and feeling sorry for myself for a whole week. It sucked. I just wanted to go home... not my home here, but good ol' South Minneapolis home. But I made it through, I'm alive and well, although I'm still a little sore throaty and coughy, but I'll live.

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