Sunday morning at about 4am I wake up silently screaming,
tears running down my face. My throat is on fire and I can barely breathe let
alone swallow. I try drinking some cold water and it only gets worse. I choke
down hot water and start to feel better. At least until I try to go back to
bed. Lying down suffocates me so I decide to jump on my phone and Tango (a wifi
form of texting internationally) my go-to guy, Jeremy. I ask for some advice,
“What do I do??? It hurts to swallow to the point where I can’t sleep. No runny nose, no cough. Just a throat
on fire!” After a few questions and answers he concludes that I need to see a
doctor. It hit so suddenly and so intensely. I cry even harder. I continue to
drink hot water because that’s the only way to keep my throat from closing up.
At about 7:30 I send out wechats (another form of texting via wifi) to multiple friends who speak Chinese and even
some of my expat co-workers. It’s Sunday so the only place with doctors would
be the ER. I get dressed and join my friends as they guide me onto the bus and
to the ER. At this point my throat is feeling better but only slightly. I get
to the hospital and Christine mimes to the front desk that my throat is sore. I
have two bilingual teachers on my redial ready to translate if need be. The
woman at the front desk directs me to the fourth floor and I stand in line to
register. I hand the woman behind the glass my residence permit and she yells
at me in Chinese. Eventually I figure out that she’s asking me what my name is,
“Chelsey Haruko? Or Chelsey?” She pulls out a medical card and swipes it
through the credit card looking reader. She hands me a paper and pen and points
at my phone. I write my phone number down. Then she writes down the price I
have to pay for registration… 9 kuai. I hand her my money, she hands me a
medical card that looks like a credit card (this card is where all my records
will be stored should I ever need to come back to the hospital), a log book, and
my receipt. I take it, “Xiexie.”
I proceed to the ENT section of the hospital and stand in
line to see the doctor. After looking very confused for a few minutes another
doctor asks in English, “Do you speak Chinese?” I say no and he tells me that I
need to put my log book and receipt on the table so that the doctor knows that
I’m in line. I do as I’m told and watch as patient after patient gets their
ears, nose, and throat checked.
Instead of waiting in the waiting room, people wait in line in the
examination room. You watch other
people and they watch you get examined. The doctor checks each patient and
sometimes writes things down in their log book depending on what the case may
be. Some people take 5 minutes and
others take 15, but I didn’t see anyone sitting in the chair longer than 15 minutes.
Then it was my turn, “Che--- Chelsey?” The doctor says in English. “Yes. That’s
me,” I reply as I take the seat that 50 other people had sat in before me. He
asks, “Do you speak any Chinese?” and again, I reply, “no” with a very
embarrassed look on my face. He asks me what’s wrong and I hold up my phone
with “Houlong tong” typed out in Chinese characters. He tells me to open my
mouth and looks at my throat. Then he asks, “anything else?” I hold up tissue
and blow my nose and he takes a look in my nose. He asks, “Can you come every
day for treatment?” I reply, “No. I have to work.” Then he pulls out his phone
and starts typing something. Then
he looks at me and says, “I can see a minor infection so I will write some
traditional Chinese medicine for you. You must take 3 or 4 and it will make
your throat feel better. [more typing on his phone] You must drink a lot of
water. This traditional medicine will have a special flavor that maybe is very
strange for you but you can take it. If you do not feel better in 3 days, come
back and see me and I will give you medicine that you are used to. I think it’s
maybe called Western medicine.” He hands me my log book with the first page
filled with Chinese characters. The nurse walks out the door with me and says
something in Chinese. I hold out
my hands with my card, my log book, and my receipt. The nurse takes the card
and swipes it and prints yet another receipt. This time it says 24.15. She
points me back to the registration desk and points to my wallet. I nod and walk over.
I hand the woman my receipt and a 50 kuai bill. She hands me
my change, puts one finger in the air, and says, “yilo.” I nod and take the
elevator to the first floor. I stand at the counter of the pharmacy with about
20 other people fighting to get the woman to take their books. She holds up a
paper and screams Chinese words at them. Eventually I figure out that somehow
the prescriptions get sent to the woman behind the glass and she fills them
before the patients get to her. Then she says the type of medicine that she has
in front of her and we show proof of purchase to take it. The woman must have been informed that
I don’t speak Chinese because she looked directly at me and said, “laowai” as
she waved my box of medicine so that I would take my medicine and leave. The
experience was very different to say the least but overall I’m LOVING Chinese
medicine. It’s been a day and a half since I started taking the traditional,
special (gross) tasting medicine and my throat feels cured.
I'm not sure what's in the medicine I'm taking but I assure you it's WAY better than any medicine I've ever taken. The whole experience including my medicine costs 33.15 kuai. AMAZING. Although I hope I don't get sick again while I'm here, I can honestly say that I'm feeling better about the whole idea of being sick here. Hopefully something of interest happens to me this week so that I can share my adventures with you. Until then... Laters.
