“The clouds in the sky are so beautiful” No, I should say, the clouds lower down are so beautiful. And the clouds lined up like elementary school kids lining up in front of the flagpole. Today, in the Phetchaburi area, there are at least 2 lines. When entering Bangkok this morning, there were no clouds, but the layers of the atmosphere made it clear how frightening PM 2.5 dust is.
I came to Bangkok to speak on stage about “abortion” on International Abortion Day. I only have 45 minutes to speak, with content that’s a bit abstract, which is “Abortion is a health issue.”
I prepared for quite a while because speaking without a slide show as a background is not my forte. But as I get older, my memory starts to shorten. What I typed and prepared on my phone might be forgotten at any time. So I prepared another thing: writing the script on a hard paper plane ticket to take on stage. So if I forget my speech, I can pull out the paper to read.
Alright, let’s listen to what I talked about on that stage.
I started with a clip from an interview I did with Way Magazine, which took about almost 5 minutes (I must thank Way, as I think it’s a clip that summarizes the ideas concisely and captures every essence).
Source: WAY DOC.umentary
I began with “Stories in the Mosquito Net” where my parents talked about my niece getting pregnant unexpectedly. I lay on my side, turning my back to my parents, listening intently. I can still remember the sound of my own heartbeat thumping to this day.
But back then, unexpected pregnancy was so far from me because, in the mind of a studious kid like me at that time, it was all about studying, exams, reading books, looking at porn, wet dreams, and self-pleasure when aroused. This also included severe stress when sperm was released during orgasm!
I still remember what the health education teacher taught in Grade 9:
“One drop of blood is made from five plates of rice, and one drop of sperm is made from five drops of blood.”
Crazy! I remember when sperm was first released, I was extremely stressed because it came out in two drops. I had to clench my buttocks tightly to prevent more from coming out because I wasn’t good at eating rice. And those two drops made me try to eat 50 plates of rice to compensate. Crazy, right?
Another stress was when I had a wet dream, waking up with pleasure but extremely stressed because I couldn’t count the drops that wet my pants. “How much rice do I have to eat to compensate? Will I get thinner, and will my body become so emaciated that others will notice that I self-pleasure until my body is thin?” Ouch… That’s why unexpected pregnancy and abortion were so far from me.
I talked about my time studying medicine, which, of course, was all about “health.” Health that only had the dimensions of disease, disease progression, and treatment. In terms of abortion, it was also about treatment. Abortion because the mother is sick, abortion because the fetus is sick. As for abortion due to unpreparedness, the teacher said, “It’s not our duty.”
“But if we don’t do it, and the patient goes for an illegal abortion and suffers severe complications, the patient will come to us anyway,” I argued.
“That’s because it’s the patient’s karma. Our duty is to treat septic abortion, give antibiotics, scrape the uterus, dialysis, amputate, blah blah blah,” the teacher said because he saw me arguing.
“Does that mean we have no part in that loss?” I still didn’t quite understand.
“Yes, we must let go of the loss, which is according to the course of the disease. We must have equanimity,” the teacher concluded beautifully.
I spoke up to this point and recalled a student who raised her hand to argue with me in that class.
“Professor, I think the word equanimity doesn’t mean that,” said the female medical student named Pong.
“How so?” I was excited to hear the explanation that followed.
“To say we have equanimity, we must first have compassion and kindness for them, not let them face illegal abortion when we could have taken care of them beforehand.”
Honestly, that day I was so happy, believe it or not.
“10 minutes,” I glanced at the sign from the moderator whom I asked to help keep time.
“I just want to tell the audience that for over ten years, taking care of women with unplanned pregnancies has made me feel that our life is so fortunate.”
Why? Because it made me realize that I have a good family. My parents love me and my siblings very much. They supported us to study until graduation, even though they both started life in poverty. Our home lacked resources, but it never lacked love. Some of my patients don’t have what I have.
As I grew up, I got a good job. I have a wife and children. All three love me (um, the three are one wife and two children, please don’t misunderstand). Our family takes good care of each other, which, of course, most of the time, my wife takes better care of me than I do of her.
I thought about noon when I arranged for my eldest daughter to have lunch with me. She had been studying in Bangkok for a while. Before we parted, she came to hug me. It was so heartwarming. Many of my patients have never known the hug of their real father.
Our life is very different from the patients who come to consult about unplanned pregnancies. Some are studying, some are poor, some are abandoned by men, and some are so sick they’re counting down to their death day, yet they are still denied abortion by obstetricians in big hospitals.
Therefore, what I and my family have can be shared with many others.
“Add another 20 minutes,” I didn’t read it wrong. The staff wrote it and turned it for me to see, but I intended to finish on time because after I spoke, there were still people waiting to speak.
“Don’t clap yet, I’m about to land.” This was a joke I threw in when the audience was enjoying it.
“We are born, and we are not equal,” I paused for a moment to take a breath. The teacher once taught that pausing like this makes the audience stop their emotions and listen intently.
“We are born with unequal fortunes, unequal statuses, and different appearances. We are not equal.”
“But one thing we have equally is the right to own our own bodies.” The room was completely silent.
“And this should be the best conclusion for today’s talk, which is that we have full rights to our bodies. Don’t let anyone tell us that we must be pregnant, we must be ready to be pregnant, we must take responsibility for our pregnancy because this is our rightful body.”
That’s it, haha, and I half-ran, half-walked off the stage, confused with myself. The script I drafted and redrafted all week was probably just for peace of mind because, in reality, this was all improvisation. There were many things I hadn’t said, many jokes I hadn’t made, and the notes I wrote on the plane ticket weren’t used because I couldn’t read them. I forgot my glasses below the stage. Crazy!
Coming to the final “crazy” of the day is the lingering image in my mind. It’s not about abortion, but it’s about not being able to eat enough rice to compensate for the sperm lost from my body since I was 14. Accumulating debt until today, it’s been 34 years in a few days. Ouch…..
Thanapan Choobun on the stage, 25 Sep 62
Someone helped me already FB live: https://www.facebook.com/rsathai.org/videos/427688861203342?sfns=m
Source: https://web.facebook.com/thanapan.choobun/posts/2458775254169655