Tuesday morning, I got up, got ready, and biked over to the ferry bound for Okamura, where my island schools are. I was feeling fine until I got to the island. I wasn't sure if it was due to the boat ride, but I suddenly felt queasy. I taught two junior high school classes and started eating lunch, when the teachers in the staff room noticed that I wasn't looking too hot. I didn't have much of an appetite, though it didn't help that lunch was a bunch of small fried fish, with pickled vegetables and fish-filled rice on the side.
They let me leave on the 1PM ferry without teaching my afternoon classes at the elementary school. When I got home, I rested in hopes that I just had motion sickness from the boat. It didn't go away.
Later that night, Stef started to feel sick to her stomach. I had a headache and was feeling nauseous, but Stef actually got it worse. I don't know why, but for some reason, I never throw up. Stef is a different story. She usually disappears into the bathroom and comes out feeling a lot better. I rarely have to deal with the unpleasantness of throwing up, but then I have to endure an upset stomach for a longer period.
When I woke up the next day, I felt even worse. The headache was just as strong and my stomach felt worse, so I called in sick. In Japan, you have to see a doctor when you miss any work, or else you lose vacation time. In fairness, most employers in America will make you use your vacation time or go without pay for the days that you miss. However, paid sick leave is written into my contract here, and I was genuinely sick. Since I chose not to use my vacation time, I had to see a doctor. It seemed like a good idea, since we had been traveling in Osaka, where there have been a few cases of the swine flu. Might as well make sure that my I'm not dying.
I biked over to a hospital about two minutes from our apartment, and told them that I needed to see a doctor. They gave me the standard new patient forms, and I sat down to fill them out. They were in kanji, the complex characters borrowed from Chinese that you must have specifically studied in order to understand. There was a little hiragana (Japanese phonetic alphabet) here and there, but overall, the form was daunting. As I studied the sheet, I realized that I recognized over half of the characters. Even if I didn't know how to pronounce all of them, I understood the primitive meaning of most. I filled the sheet out and turned it in, asking for help with the readings of just two of the characters.
It was a small victory for me. It's quite intimidating to face a wall of kanji standing in the way of you and something you need. In the beginning of my stay here in Japan, I might have asked for someone to translate. I don't even know if anybody could have translated. It's nice to know that it didn't even matter.
I sat and stared at the fish tank, waiting for my name to be called. A closer look at the tank revealed that it wasn't a fish tank at all, but a TV screen in a glass casing filled with water. I'd imagine that video fish are a lot easier to care for than real fish. They called everybody in the standard Japanese way, last name first. I was curious to see how they'd call me.
“Jesse-sama! Kochira, douzo (Mister Jesse, right this way)!”
Just my first name. I wonder if they thought it was my last name.
I followed the lady through some doors and she guided me into the room where the doctor was waiting. When Kelsey had pink eye and we took her to a doctor, the nurses manhandled her. They pushed her down and held her against her will. It was quite upsetting. She would have cooperated had they let us hold her. When I went to see the doctor, the nurses did the same thing to me. I walked in and explained what I was feeling to the doctor. Our whole conversation was in Japanese.
“Please lift up your shirt,” said the doctor.
“Please lift up your shirt,” repeated the nurse in a high-pitched, nasal tone.
I went to lift up my shirt, and the nurse lifted it for me and held it up.
“Please take a deep breath,” the doctor requested, stethoscope ready.
“Please take a deep breath,” parroted the nurse.
“Now, exhale,” said the doctor.
“Now, exhale,” the nurse mimicked.
“Take another deep breath.”
“Take another deep breath.”
“And… exhale.”
“Exhale.”
“Okay, now pull your shirt back down.”
“Pull your shirt back down.”
I went to pull my shirt down, but the nurse did it for me.
I told the doctor that I had been having headaches almost every morning for the last month or two, and he told me to lie down on the table. The nurse, of course, also asked me to lie down on the table. When I did, I slipped and bumped the wall, since I was much too big. I made a joke about how I'm too big and the nurse cut me off and again asked me to lie down. The doctor felt my abdomen and then asked me a question that I don't remember. I told him that I wanted to make sure that I didn't have the swine flu. He said “OK,” and asked me to follow the nurse, who asked me to follow her.
I was in the doctor's room for, at most, ninety seconds. At the nurses' station, they stabbed me in the brain through my nostrils with a long cotton swab, which they then tested for influenza while I waited in a separate waiting area. Thirty minutes later, the nurse called me back in to see the doctor, who spent thirty seconds explaining that I didn't have influenza, but that I most likely had a stomach virus. I again waited in the lobby for them to call my name. About five minutes later, they called me up to the front desk and handed me three different types of medicine, asked for my money, and showed me the door.
The nicest thing I can say about my visit to the doctor is that it was quick. They basically have an assembly line system that doesn't leave you feeling like you have any sort of relationship with your doctor. He's just there to find out what kind of medicine they're going to sell you. I didn't really get to discuss my concerns or describe my nausea. You're in, you're out, and you're lucky if you ever find out what's ailing you.
The nurse is there to make sure that you don't spend even a millisecond too long in the hospital. If they're really so concerned with making everything fast, they should stop repeating everything the doctor says. And I can lift my own shirt, thank you very much. If she could have inhaled and exhaled for me, she would have. At the same time, it makes the manhandling of Kelsey seem much less personal. They don't care if you're a toddler or a grown man. They're going to do everything for you.
I still don't know what was wrong with me. I was sick the following two days as well, and part of Saturday. I'm better now, and it's nice to know that I didn't have the swine flu. Well, it's time to get ready for school lunch. I hear we're having video fish.
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