Here in Cambodia, the guesthouse owner, a recent acquaintance, will openly ask if you have diarrhea. Women receive routine injections in their buttocks with family members, friends, and neighbors looking on.
In America, the hospital is a space entirely dedicated to improving health, almost sacred in its sterilized simplicity.
In Cambodia, IVs are set up under stilted houses with cows in the background and babies are delivered on straw mats in the family home. Personal health is deeply integrated into daily life.
From what I have been able to observe, medicine here is a matter-of-fact business that appears, in my Western eyes, devoid of emotion.