There’s a certain point in life where the calendar stops being filled with travel plans and brunch dates and instead becomes one long game of Hospital Appointment Bingo. I can't help feel that my wife and I are at that stage. 

And if you're an expat of a certain vintage in Thailand, you’ll know exactly what I mean. The moment you hit 50, Thai private hospitals start treating you like a gently rotting durian. Not quite off, but definitely needing to be monitored closely. You walk in with a mild headache and end up leaving with a CT scan, blood work, three months of follow up appointments, and boxes of pills - all because you made the mistake of saying “I’m just a bit tired.”

But the real wildcard in all this? Your Thai wife. Now don’t get me wrong, I love her to bits. But she puts absolute, unwavering faith in anything a Thai doctor says. If the doctor told her I had six months to live unless I ate boiled pumpkin three times a day while waving incense at the spirit house, well, guess what I’m having for lunch?

The faith of a nation in white coats

There’s a deep cultural respect for medical professionals in Thailand. Doctors are held in near-mystical regard. You don’t question them, you don’t Google alternatives, and you certainly don’t say, “Let’s wait and see.” That Western tendency to ride it out with a couple of paracetamol and a cup of tea just doesn’t fly here.

You cough once—"Go hospital."

You feel dizzy—"Check blood."

You yawn too loud—"Maybe heart. Better go check."

And the hospitals love it. They’ve turned health anxiety into a finely-oiled money-spinner. Executive check-up packages! Bundled screenings! Loyalty cards! (Seriously, some give you points. Shouldn’t I be able to redeem them for a free gallbladder removal or something?)

When overcautious becomes overboard

Now, on a serious note, because this isn’t just comedy, it’s important to realise what's going on here. Thai private hospitals, especially the glitzy international ones, walk a fine line between top-tier care and over-servicing. They’re not trying to scam you per se, but there’s a definite culture of over-testing “just to be sure.” And for aging expats, this can turn into a medical treadmill. You’re not sick. But you’re never quite well enough to be left alone.

The wife is happy because the doctor “explained everything.” The hospital’s happy because they just sold you a 9,500-baht liver examination. But you? You’re beginning to wonder if all this attention is really necessary, or just the price of living in a country where medicine and marketing have become uncomfortably cosy.

So what's the play?

Simple: advocate for yourself. Ask questions. Request clarity. If something doesn’t feel right, or feels like a bit much, it probably is. It’s not rude to want a second opinion. It’s not stubborn to say, “Actually, I think I’ll wait on that full-body MRI unless there’s a clear reason.”

And if the wife raises an eyebrow? Sit her down. Remind her you’re not avoiding care - you’re avoiding turning into a full-time patient for the sake of profit.

Final thoughts from the waiting room

I love Thailand. I love my wife. I even love that little machine at some hospitals that gives you a queuing number and your BMI at the same time. But I’m not going to spend my twilight years being poked, scanned, and medicated just because someone thinks “better to be sure.”

Yes, maybe something’s wrong. Or just maybe that midnight sausage roll was a tactical error.