Confessions of a Medical Tourist

When my long-term marriage ended in a bitter divorce the wreckage of my former life stared back at me as I looked in the mirror: deep lines and wrinkles, baggy, sad eyes, a mouth that was perpetually turned down into a frown. I was 50, but
looked 65. The years of acrimony in my marriage and a stressful job had taken their toll.

I determined that it would lift my spirits if I could turn back the clock a bit. Now Stick, I know you can’t understand the desire for cosmetic surgery, but just wait, youngun – in the fullness of time you may.

I began to check out cosmetic surgeons all over the world. I found that the American surgeons took forever to get in to see and were expensive, that South American surgeons were represented by pushy salesman (the Argentines being particularly
aggressive), and the most accommodating and most professional were in Bangkok, especially at Bumrungrad. I could quickly schedule multiple procedures, the price, although not the cheapest, was reasonable, and the Thais were not pushy at all. In
addition to cosmetic surgery I booked a comprehensive health screening.

I had no interest in Thailand prior to my first trip. All I knew of Thais was their penchant for pugilism – fighting fish and kick-boxing – and I didn’t have any interest in Thai women whom I saw as discount Filipinas:
i.e. darker and with less English. I didn’t even like Thai food much.

My surgery went well, although at first, of course, I looked pretty terrible. Before my surgery the pretty nurses at Bumrungrad would interrogate me: “Are you marry? Why you no marry? Are you lonely?” After the surgery though,
there was markedly less interest in my matrimonial condition.

For those interested in cosmetic surgery I would highly recommend Thailand with this caveat: it’s probably better for more restorative procedures – like facelifts, dental veneers, etc. – and less good for procedures that
actually change your facial structure – rhinoplasty, cheekbone implants, for example – because Thais have a different aesthetic sensibility than us. I’d even be careful with something as basic as breast implants to make sure
that the surgeon understood exactly what I wanted. My surgeon was very conservative though, and didn’t push his services, and even talked me out of some things. If I’d gone to Argentina I might look like Michael Jackson!

Of course, before the surgery I did some of the usual tourist stuff. And in my peregrinations from my hotel to Bumrungrad I enjoyed the vibrant Sukhumvit street life. One afternoon, coming back from a morning where I had done too much walking
at the Grand Palace, I developed a very sore back. I went into a massage parlor off Sukhumvit that turned out to double as a pool hall and bar, and told the only girl there that I needed a good masseuse for a problem back. She assured me that
she had someone very good and disappeared. She reappeared with a woman who looked like she had just woken up, in her forties perhaps, and not especially attractive, without make-up at least. She looked like her job was giving good massages in
other words.

We went upstairs and she proceeded to give me what to that point was the best massage I’d had in my life. My back felt so much better that I started getting turned on. Now she may have turned me on deliberately as part of habit –
though she looked like she was still half asleep – but it was me who was the one to make a prurient suggestion. “How much you give me?” she asked.

I think we settled on 500 baht all in for what turned out to be a two hour massage and a pneumatic handjob. I had recently spent, in Farangland, about twenty times that much for the same thing, admittedly with a much prettier lady, so I was
quite happy with the transaction. My back was 100%, and I felt like a million bucks as I walked down the soi.

The next day, on the way back from Bumrungrad, a very pretty lady called out to me from the doorway of a massage shop. “You want massage?” Now I felt fine, and didn’t need a massage, but she was quite fetching. “With
you?” I asked, afraid that the masseuse was probably more like the one I’d had the day before. “Of course.” We went upstairs passing, as we did, a middle aged farang couple chastely getting foot massages who gave me
looks of pointed disgust.

The girl was lovely and had fairly good English. She was a much better masseuse than the lady from the day before, so I again had what was, up to that point, the best massage of my life.

And, again, it was me who made the prurient suggestion. “OK,” she said and without mentioning money continued, “I do that for you.” She then proceeded to fellate me sans condom. I gave her a tip of a thousand
baht and she was delighted, and waied me.

The next day I was wandering around Sukhumvit looking for a place to eat when a pretty girl approached me. “Where you from?” she asked. We exchanged a few words and I asked if she’d like to go for lunch with me. She said
she would, and wanted to know if she could bring her cousin, just in that day from the country, too? Sure.

We went to that restaurant at the top of Soi 7, I think, where she fed me raw oysters – her idea -and showed me how to chew a bit of that herb they serve with them. Her cousin, who didn’t speak a word of English, regarded us
with a great deal of amusement.

I’m not sure who came up with the idea of getting a short time hotel room. It didn’t occur to me that I could take them back to my hotel. And I wasn’t that keen about the cousin joining us because I wasn’t sure
about her age, and she seemed a bit young. “Don’t worry, she’s had 2 kids already.” And, when the cousin disrobed back at the short time room, I could see the stretch marks that indicated that was true. It only occurred
to me weeks later that the fact she’d had 2 kids didn’t mean she was of legal age, but by then I’d come to realize that Thai girls were often older than they appeared, and she was likely the age she claimed she was, 22 or
something.

It was the first time I’d ever been with two ladies and to say that I enjoyed myself was an understatement. The country cousin was the much better performer, and seemed to really like me. They were both very happy with the 1000 baht
I gave them.

Now, I’m not stupid, just slow. It occurred to me that if I could have such adventures without even trying, I might really have a good time if I put some effort into it.

I discovered Soi Cowboy, NEP, the Thermae, Biergarten, Soi 33, massage parlours like Nataree, and mps like Eden club, and even some of the less popular areas like Chinatown, and Washington Square. I got to the point where I was routinely
taking 2 girls at a time and sometimes more.

I remember the first time I went to NEP, which was after my surgery. Because of my stitches and swelling I got more stares and questions than the elephants, ladyboys and beggars combined. Thais are, I discovered, not at all shy about asking
what is wrong with you. And they seemed very relieved that I was not dying. At Angelwitch the very helpful mamasan sat down at my table and solicited the girl of my choice who, while not able to completely conceal her concern with my appearance,
turned out to be quite good company.

Of course, in subsequent trips when I looked less hideous I had even more fun, (although it must be said Thai girls, to their credit, can look past appearances better than most; this is especially notable in Pattaya).

I still get medical treatment in Thailand. I now look like I’m in my early 40s and my health has improved a lot too. I go twice a year for a month at time and plan to retire in LOS as soon as I can. But what attracts me now, I have
to confess, is the Thai ladies.

I’m not one of those guys who think Thai girls are better looking than farang women. My ex wife was smoking hot. But, where a Farang woman aspires to being equal to men, a Thai lady aspires to being delightful to them.

And that makes all the difference, and that’s what keeps this “medical tourist" coming back to LOS time and time again.