It was a Saturday afternoon, the weather in Korea is definitely cooling but it was bright and sunny. I hated it. I felt miserable and wanted to go out and play. I have feet, a bike, mountains and sidewalks waiting for me but not today. I have the common cold. I had it last month as well, two colds in one year a record of sorts for me. I am in a new land and my body is reacting to changes. Last month I chose acupuncture and herbal medicine prepared by the herbalist at the Oriental Medical Center a few blocks away. It worked out great. This time I chose to go and get an injection at the local small hospital a block from the oriental medical clinic. I want to feel well quickly, I have some things I need to do, besides, and I wanted to have the experience.
I walk into a large lobby with about fifty people of all ages sitting on cushioned red benches with a big screen TV set mounted on the wall to the left with some sit com that folks seemed to enjoy. I see at the far end an information desk, I walk there slowly and cautiously not knowing the protocol and knowing that the language barrier is about to express itself again. I feel sick and do not feel up to it, too bad. I approach the desk and we exchange the simplest of English conversation including me pretending to cough, pointing and exaggerating my throat inflammation and showing my sinuses dripping. I have become a method actor here in Korea as matter of circumstance. They take my alien registration card; type some stuff in the computer and point for me to sit down while speaking in Korean as a matter of habit. I sit at the other end by the door; it feels like I can hide better there. Fifteen minutes later I get waved into a doctor’s office, he speaks minimal English and I repeat my Broadway performance of a sick man about to die from something awful. He smiles. He tells me after a brief examination, “You have the common cold.” I reply without reaction, “I know.”
“We give you injection ----- ---- ---- and three days. OK?”
“Yes, OK.” Assuming that he meant I would either get some medicine for three days or come back in three days. I do not know what he said in between injection and three days even after he repeated it twice. I respected him and his time, it is not his fault I do not speak Korean. A nurse shuffles me to another room and tells me, “Take your pants down for injection.” It then occurs to me the injection will be in my butt and not my arm. I have not had an injection in my butt in probably thirty-five years. I panic briefly but then pull them down behind a red and white striped curtain. Why the curtain if she is going to see my butt naked anyway? She re-enters the little space and rubs something wet and cold I assume to be alcohol on my butt and then rubs around for a second. Somewhere during that, she injected me. I did not feel it or even know she was dong it yet. Magic. I go out to pay and find it costs the equivalent of $7.00! I am shocked. I pay and leave not believing I went to a hospital, was diagnosed, injected and left in less than thirty minutes and it cost about $7.00. I picked up some groceries- oranges, tangerines, lemons, ginger root and other goodies to support my system and head home. Fruit cost more than the hospital visit. I feel better about an hour later.
It is now Tuesday night. I am still sick, maybe worse. It lasted shortly and I have a clogged up nose, coughing and yuckiness. I decide after dinner I will return and see if I was supposed to come back after three days or not. I walk in and nobody is in the whole waiting area. I approach the desk again as I did the other day but now there are different folks and need to do the Hollywood thing again. They are not amused. They bring another woman out, a nurse who speaks English. She is kind and helpful. After they figure out the intake nurse the other day decided to cut my last name in half, she brings me to the doctor’s office and joins us to help with language issues. She does great. We figure out that I was supposed to be taking medicine for the last three days and they gave me a prescription. I tell them, “I did not know if I was given a prescription or not and asked at the desk if I was done. And they said ‘Yes’, so I left. I am sorry. “No. We are sorry. They should have told you”, the doctor says with the nurse nodding her head yes. You can get another injection and we give you prescription for three days. If you still sick, please come back see me. OK?”
This time I understand totally. “Yes OK. Thank you very much.”
I am ushered to the other room and again pull my pants down to get the injection in my butt but she turns me around to do the other side. She says while smiling, “Now you have balance.” I laugh and before I know it she is done. “Pull up your pants and I take you to get prescription filled.”
“No I can do it myself. Thank you.”
“There is nobody here. I can help you.”
I let her lead me to the desk to pay before we leave. This time it is only $5.10. I think they gave me a discount because of confusion over prescription. She then leads me out the door to the little pharmacy around the corner. We enter and she hands the prescription to the young lady and says something to her. They bow. She turns back to me, “I work from 8:00-midnight if you ever need anything.”
“Thank you very much. Hopefully I will not see you again.” She says, “Good-bye” bows and leaves. I return the bow. My prescription was filled about two minutes later. The pharmacist said “Take after meals three times day.”
“OK. How much?” I make gesture of money exchanging hands. It was the equivalent of $3.10 for tablets and syrup for three days. I leave to go home smiling with my little pharmacy bag.
Things sure are different here. The presidential election has started in America. I already voted absentee.
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