I am generally a pretty healthy person. I have been on prescription medication maybe twice (if that) in the past three years. Even with my self given title of "pretty healthy" my body is not equipped to handle these Asian super bugs. For the second time since my arrival here, I have fallen victim to the Korean Crud. As an added plus, this time around the Crud has done something to my eyes. I don't know if it is pink eye, dry eyes, random infection, or what. But they are red. And watery. And itchy. And burny. And for two days, whenever I walked into a room, one of my preschoolers would say "TEACHER! Eyes is red! Why?"
I also had my first visit to a Korean hospital. A few months ago, I noticed a little bump on my stomach. It grew. And hurt. And did other gross things that I won't talk about in case anyone is eating anything. So finally I decided to see a dermatologist. After a VERY awkward attempt at trying to make an appointment, I thought I maybe had the receptionist give me the okay for Wednesday at 6:30. Bad traffic. I walked into the reception area around 6:50. Oops. I was apologizing for being late, when the good Doc walked into the room and said in perfect English "Don't worry about it!" I relaxed, filled out my forms, and sat down to wait. I then realized this private skin clinic was beautiful, with modern decor, including plants and a little fountain. There were posters and brochures for various cosmetic procedures. The national sport of Korea is Taekwondo. Cosmetic surgery is a close second though. While waiting, I saw a few Korean female clients walking around the dr's office. True to form, they were perfect-perfect skin, perfect clothes, high heels, not a hair out of place, etc. I had a feeling this is what the Doc mainly deals with-botox and other issues of vanity. For a second I debated running out of the waiting room while no one was looking. I had been at work all day. My hair was messy. I wasn't wearing make up. I outweighed all of his female clients (and probably some of the males as well, tiny little fellas here) by about 50 pounds. I probably smelled weird, and I wasn't there to talk to him about crows feet prevention. But, before I could make my move, he called me back to his office. I followed him, giving myself a pep talk along the way "Suck it up Laura. You left your pride somewhere in Bordeaux nearly two years ago. Just do it. He's a doctor. It's his job. It's okay that you look and smell like crap, you are foreign. Etc" Once in his office, he asked me what he could do for me today. And of course after I told him, he made me show him. I lifted my shirt and took off the band aid that was sort of covering it. As soon as the band aid was off, he said
"GEEEEZUS. THIS IS A SEMI EMERGENCY!" And he ran out of the room, leaving me sitting there holding a band aid in one hand, and keeping my shirt up with the other. Umm...ok. A long few minutes later, he came back carrying gauze and tape. He properly bandaged my bump, yelled at me a bit for not seeing a doctor sooner, then told me it had to come off asap. And since he wanted it biopsied, I'd have to go to a hospital, and he said it needed to be done first thing in the morning. He wrote me a referral, and told me what he thought the bump was. I don't remember what it was called, and no longer am in possession of the referral sheet, I may never know. It is better that way. I would prefer people don't know what it was called. It was gross. Basically it is just a benign growth that is usually the result of trauma to the skin. I don't know what my trauma was. So I got to work the next day, and had my boss call the hospital to make me an appointment. She called, but was told that there is a policy of no same day appointments, and they told me just to show up before 3:30. I left work around 2:30. The hospital is called Hanyang University Medical Center. It is close to work, but since I wasn't entirely positive where, I took a taxi. This isn't a hospital like good ol' Perry. This is a complex. Think like Northwestern Medical Center, only all the signs explaining what's in each building are all in Korean. The driver dropped me off in front of a building. I thought, okay, here is as good a place as any. So I walked in. There were people EVERYWHERE. I found a desk that in English said "Information" GREAT! I walked up, did my sort of bow, and showed him my referral. He laughed at me, and pointed me towards another set of desks, with a few ladies at computers. I approached one of them, and she tried to speak to me in very broken English. Bless her. I gave her my referral sheet. After it became clear our language barrier was too great, she made a phone call, and told me to wait. A few minutes later, a woman approached me, and introduced herself as Dr. Grace Somethingorother (probably Kim, Lee, or Park). She said she was head of the international hospital at Hanyang University. I followed her to the "international" hospital, though there was nothing international about it. I was the only non Asian in the building. But they did offer translators. So I soon found myself following my translator up to the 5th floor. I waited a few minutes, and was then called into a room with an older doctor and a VERY attractive Korean medical student. If only I wasn't there to have him examine a benign growth of nasty on my stomach. Side note, I was looking even more haggard that day too because I walked to school in the tale end of a typhoon. No joke. Anyway, they confirmed the dermatologist's diagnosis of it being whatever he said it was (forgot the name), and told me I'd have to have it removed that day. Once again in the waiting room, my translator asked me if it would be okay if they took pictures of it. I wasn't sure if this was standard, or if it was because I'd let it go way longer than I should have or why. But I soon found myself standing, naked from the waste up holding on arm up in the air, wishing I wasn't so lazy about shaving my armpits, while a Korean medical student photographed me with a camera that probably cost more than my college education. At one point I literally had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all. Like I said before, my pride is long gone. A short while later, the bump was gone, and I was bandaged up and walking home with a prescription for two different medicines and instructions to return to the hospital Saturday morning so they could check my stitches and change the bandage. Simple enough, except that the translators don't work on the weekend. It wasn't bad though. Being obviously foreign and looking lost and confused goes a long way here, although I think I annoyed a lot of people in the process.
"GEEEEZUS. THIS IS A SEMI EMERGENCY!" And he ran out of the room, leaving me sitting there holding a band aid in one hand, and keeping my shirt up with the other. Umm...ok. A long few minutes later, he came back carrying gauze and tape. He properly bandaged my bump, yelled at me a bit for not seeing a doctor sooner, then told me it had to come off asap. And since he wanted it biopsied, I'd have to go to a hospital, and he said it needed to be done first thing in the morning. He wrote me a referral, and told me what he thought the bump was. I don't remember what it was called, and no longer am in possession of the referral sheet, I may never know. It is better that way. I would prefer people don't know what it was called. It was gross. Basically it is just a benign growth that is usually the result of trauma to the skin. I don't know what my trauma was. So I got to work the next day, and had my boss call the hospital to make me an appointment. She called, but was told that there is a policy of no same day appointments, and they told me just to show up before 3:30. I left work around 2:30. The hospital is called Hanyang University Medical Center. It is close to work, but since I wasn't entirely positive where, I took a taxi. This isn't a hospital like good ol' Perry. This is a complex. Think like Northwestern Medical Center, only all the signs explaining what's in each building are all in Korean. The driver dropped me off in front of a building. I thought, okay, here is as good a place as any. So I walked in. There were people EVERYWHERE. I found a desk that in English said "Information" GREAT! I walked up, did my sort of bow, and showed him my referral. He laughed at me, and pointed me towards another set of desks, with a few ladies at computers. I approached one of them, and she tried to speak to me in very broken English. Bless her. I gave her my referral sheet. After it became clear our language barrier was too great, she made a phone call, and told me to wait. A few minutes later, a woman approached me, and introduced herself as Dr. Grace Somethingorother (probably Kim, Lee, or Park). She said she was head of the international hospital at Hanyang University. I followed her to the "international" hospital, though there was nothing international about it. I was the only non Asian in the building. But they did offer translators. So I soon found myself following my translator up to the 5th floor. I waited a few minutes, and was then called into a room with an older doctor and a VERY attractive Korean medical student. If only I wasn't there to have him examine a benign growth of nasty on my stomach. Side note, I was looking even more haggard that day too because I walked to school in the tale end of a typhoon. No joke. Anyway, they confirmed the dermatologist's diagnosis of it being whatever he said it was (forgot the name), and told me I'd have to have it removed that day. Once again in the waiting room, my translator asked me if it would be okay if they took pictures of it. I wasn't sure if this was standard, or if it was because I'd let it go way longer than I should have or why. But I soon found myself standing, naked from the waste up holding on arm up in the air, wishing I wasn't so lazy about shaving my armpits, while a Korean medical student photographed me with a camera that probably cost more than my college education. At one point I literally had to bite my cheek to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all. Like I said before, my pride is long gone. A short while later, the bump was gone, and I was bandaged up and walking home with a prescription for two different medicines and instructions to return to the hospital Saturday morning so they could check my stitches and change the bandage. Simple enough, except that the translators don't work on the weekend. It wasn't bad though. Being obviously foreign and looking lost and confused goes a long way here, although I think I annoyed a lot of people in the process.
Fast forward a week, my stitches are out and I am the proud owner of a Hanyang University Medical Center ID card. Good souvenir, I guess.
1 comment:
pyogenic granuloma, in case anyone reading this wants to see pics!!! Laura's may be famous some day!! see you wed., laura!! YIKES!!
Mom
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