I decided I wasn’t an emergency, emergencies are not healthy. I walked past the emergency place, and found the main entrance. A monk was walking out. Monks are healthy. Why was the monk at the hospital? He smiled at me when I smiled at him. He seemed ok. Maybe he wants to teach English to little kids and a few adults. Or maybe he wants to learn Chinese. I guess his monastery might not believe him when he says he’s healthy. “You’re going to need a health certificate.” “I’m a monk, I’m healthy.” “I know, but we don’t believe you, you need to go to the doctor in Tainan and get a health certificate.” “Ok, where do I go?”
I walked past the smiling monk. I walked past the flowers, I looked at the information desk. There were a number of very old, unhealthy looking ladies behind the desk. “I think they need health certificates…maybe they’re waiting.” I walked past the old ladies who looked at me from their information, then thought better of it and let their gaze lead my feet to the front of the desk.
“你好，我要这个。” “Hey there, I need one of these,” and pointed at the brochure that said I needed to have a health certificate in Chinese. Out of nowhere a young information man walked up from behind and said he could help me. “Oh, your English is very good.” “Yes, I have a neighbor. I will stay with you while you get your certificate, ok?” Oh man, this is great. I can ask him all sorts of questions, learn medical terms and not get lost once. “First fill out this form and then fill out this form. They are the same.” I thought it’d be easier for everyone to just copy it, but I didn’t say anything and filled it out as completely as I could. “You have pictures?” I did have pictures of myself. Louis said to always have pictures when you thought you might fill out a form. “Okay. Two pictures. Ok. 五百” 500 dollars. Ok, not bad. I paid the lady behind the counter.
I turned around to start getting my health certificate and the young information man who was going to stay with me the whole time had turned into a middle aged healthy lady. “2nd floor, Family Health, 三十號” and was gone. Okay. Number thirty, second floor. Up we go.
The numbers were ticking by the time I got to the family health room. 8, 9….9…9, 10… I’ll wait a bit. This old guy was staring at me from across the room from the second I walked in. He wasn’t very healthy. Though, sometimes health is deceptive. If I were the lady at the ARC office, or the head disbelieving monk, I wouldn’t believe him and would have sent him here. I sat down and he really started staring at me. He made me feel like I was doing something wrong.
“I must be doing something wrong.” I asked the lady at the counter in the Family Health office if I was doing anything wrong. She didn’t really answer, but took my papers from my hand and started typing on the computer. I looked over my shoulder and found the old guy smiling at me. Maybe the young information man who turned into the healthy middle aged lady had turned into the unhealthy old guy. Two more forms, two more pictures. They checked my blood pressure. 119 over 72. Height. 170 odd cm. Weight. 62 kg. Ok, quick math, they’re not lying. Ok.
The lady walked very quickly, down the hall, right, down another hall, left, down the escalator, left, left, down, right. Put this on. She gave me a gown. I went into the dressing room and changed. As I came out what I had mistaken for a giant metal wall was sliding back towards me. I got out of the way and peeked in. X-ray room.
Push your chest here, grab here, put your chin here, pull. The man spoke English well. Breathe deep…nothing…ok you can breathe again now. Exhale. Ok, not too bad.
Down several more hallways, to the front of the long line of unhealthy looking people. I think I got to go to the front because I was healthy. Maybe they were starting to believe me? One thousand dollars. Maybe they just wanted my money.
Backtrack, left right left right straight, up. We entered a room that looked like Bank of America. Instead of taking money, the tellers were taking blood. I went up to window 8 when my number was called. Half way through my trip from the standing position to the sitting position, the teller had already stuck me, bandaged me, and chastised me for not immediately putting pressure on the wound she gave me that I didn’t even know I had.
Backwards, left right left right, up the escalators, back to the Family Health room. The same unhealthy old man smiled at me while my tour guide vanished. The lady behind the counter asked me a lot of questions. Drink? Smoke? Coffee? Tea? Disease? She was filling out every question one step ahead of me answering them. Half were in English, half in Chinese. Sleep normal? Pee normal? Medication? Allergy? Vitamin? Vegetarian? “Yes.” … … … everything slowed down for a minute. “Oh, really?” Yes. “Oh…” And a smile, and then continued. Then, “Please sit a little while.”
“Jonasan Brown.” The real doctor called. She did the real examination. She pushed hard on most of my body and was young and nice and spoke English well. She also filled out the form in English. I don’t understand why. Spending time with her was nice. She was pleasant. Not rushed, she drank coffee from Starbucks. “Ok, all done.” “Am I healthy?” She laughed. “Of course!” I left the exam room, happy at least one person knew.
The lady behind the counter said a lot of things to me in Chinese. She gave me a small slip of paper, and said some more things. I could read the date on the paper, and maybe a few other things. So I left.
…
Mavis is the Taiwanese English teacher at the school where I teach. “Mavis, can you read this? I don’t really understand it.” Mavis read the hospital slip quickly. Then she read it more slowly, a second time… Then she paused. “I cannot understand.” Jesus. I will never be able to communicate in Chinese. Mavis asked Stacey, the administrator. “Can you understand this?” Stacey didn’t really read the slip, she just kind of glanced at it. “You need to go to the hospital on the 18th to pick up your health certificate.”
And then I will be healthy and everyone will know it.
...
Today I finally spent some quality time at the tea shop. They were pleasant again, and we actually managed to communicate some more in Chinese. They were amazed and impressed that I am a vegetarian. And I think that they offered to take me to a tea farm where she goes not infrequently. I told her I was only available on the weekends. We also thoroughly discussed how much money I was making, and she said it was ok. Actually she said, bu cuo, that “not bad” term which I will continue to translate as “good”. I bought a little teapot from her, and she gave me a cup and a sniffer cup free. So now I can haphazardly drink tea at my place, using the 100 degree water from the water dispenser in the entrance. That’s nice.
Speaking of my place. I did end of taking Louis’ apartment. It does its job well. It is nothing fancy. Think of a longish room, running north south. You walk in at the north end, and immediately to the left there is a bathroom. The bathroom has a toilet and a shower head attached to the wall with consistently hot water. Go further south and you come to the main room, with a twin bed on the east side, a desk, TV and fridge on the west side. The fridge doesn’t work. Louis told the landlord before he left, and I think she came here and thought it was working cause the light came on when she plugged it in, but it isn’t. It probably won’t work till I leave or feel comfortable enough with my language abilities to talk to her about it, whichever comes first. It probably won’t work till I leave.
At the foot of the bed is a bookshelf and a dresser. On the south wall is a sliding door to a patio of sorts. Really, it’s just a space where I can hang my clothes to dry, enclosed by metal walls, maybe 5 by 4 feet or so. It lets natural light in during the day. The floors are tile, and there is a nice shelf under the mirror in the bathroom. There is also air conditioning.
The Olympics are on my television right now. I haven’t watched too much of them because I still don’t watch much TV. The New York Times seems more concerned with secessionist sections of Georgia vs Russia than the Olympics. But they are on here and there around town. Sometimes I’ll take my lunch with them. I’m glad they exist and get a tingly feeling in my stomach when I watch them.
I’ve been watching episodes of Lost at night before I go to bed. Originally it was a nice way to just kind of sit down at the end of the day, plus they’re easily accessible online. But after watching two in a row last night and wanting to watch a third, I’m getting a little worried about it.
Teaching is coming along, more on that later.
All the best,
Jonathan
1 comment:
i get a tingly feeling in my stomach when i read your blog. i think i'll be where you are in a year (not literally of course) and your thoughts make me rather more certain of it. i'm glad you went first :)
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