Influenza
Starting in mid-November, everybody in Japan begins to wear a mask – just in case. Nagoya’s subway looks like a scene from a cheesy post-apocalyptic movie, everyone wearing a mask, everyone staring at their portable gaming consoles. Despite the fact that the whole Japanese race turns into a wedding version of Darth Vader, everybody in Japan seems to get sick sooner or later. At Yale, I rarely see people wearing masks, and if I do, I usually step on the other side of the street. They must be really sick! I tend to think. I am not a doctor to tell you why the Japanese, at least in my experience, tend to turn sicker despite the precautionary measures they take. One reason might be their fruit-less diet – which comes as no surprise considering the fact that one piece of banana costs $2.50, an apple $4, and an orange $3.5. Wouldn’t you skip your five-pieces-of-fruit-a-day, too? Moreover, there are no flu shots. At least not at Nanzan. At Yale, getting a flu shot is the easiest thing ever. You go to Commons, PINCH, and there you are! Vaccinated! And so, I am more than surprised that in such a virus-conscious country, getting any form of flu vaccination is so inaccessible.
Well, long story made short, two days ago, I got sick, too. Starting in early January, our IJ600 class lost a student a day due to diseases of all sorts. On Wednesday, we lost our teacher. On Friday, IJ 600 lost me. I woke up that morning feeling like P Diddy. I called Nanzan, trying to figure out what do with my newly acquired disease. After five minutes of Japanese-like introductions – “it’s so nice to hear from!”; “you never stop at our office”; “I haven’t seen you for so long!” I finally got to the point. I’m sweating, I have fever, my head hurts. What should I do? The Nanzan lady: “Oh, in order to get excused absence, you will have to print out form 1024xxxx, get it signed by your doctor, teacher and advisor…” I don’t care about excused absence! But of course, the first thing a Japanese person thinks of when it comes to procedures are the rules that one has to follow. Well, I just wanted to get better, so finally I got the name of the best hospital in the hood.
I somehow managed to drag myself out of the bed. It was pleasant to realize that Kitamura-Hospital was in fact a block away from my house, which is one cool thing about a nation that’s slowly turning into a retirement community: there are clinics and hospitals everywhere. At the hospital, I was a bit struck by the fact that the average age of all the patients in the waiting room was close to 100 years. Nevertheless, before I could ponder my ephemeral youth, I was given a mask and a thermometer. When the nurse discovered that my fever was reaching the boiling point, she escorted me to a “very very sick person” room. There I had to wait for further instructions. I usually don’t mind waiting, but I do mind when I am being made to wait in a freezing room for an hour while having a high fever….Finally, the doctor came and started shouting at me, which is usually what the Japanese people do to increase their chances of being understood by a foreign person. I never really grasped the rationale, though. Let’s use more complicated language and SHOUT it. That’s the way to do it. Doctor Kitamura told me to lie down; he took out a super long stick and ruthlessly stuck it in my nose. It was the strangest thing that ever happened to my body. He told me to wait for ten minutes.
Forty-five minutes later, Doctor Kitamura came to tell me I have influenza. He didn’t really offer any recommendations as to what I should do to get better. Instead, he gave me a set of instructions of what I should do in order not to infect other people. Of course, Japan does not want a bunch of infectious foreigners running around spreading viruses. He told me to wait for medication. I asked him whether he could tell me what kind of pills he was going to prescribe, as I’m allergic to antibiotics. He said not to worry…
Thirty minutes later, an older nurse came. (At that point, my body temperature was three times the room temperature).
Warning: if you are a high-brow reader, please skip this paragraph. Everybody else just keep reading.
The nurse started to explain what to do with different kinds of pills in broken English. I told her that Japanese was just fine. She gave me three kinds of pills – one against common cold, one against influenza, and one that I had no idea. I asked the nurse what the third pill was about. It was too awkward for her to explain in Japanese, so she, as expected, switched into English again. Blushed and rosy, the old nurse-lady said in a charming Japanese accent: “Keep it cool in your fridge, then put it into your anus.” What?! Really?! Please, don’t tell me I’m being prescribed suppository!? In disbelief, I started making strange faces. At that point, I remembered the most traumatic experience of my childhood- the suppositories. I could not believe I was supposed to relive the trauma again. I called my Japanese friends, only to discover that allegedly, suppositories are the most common form of medicine in Japan. What?! Really?! Why?! I started feeling sicker than before. The first thing, I did when I got home was to google-wikify-yahoo-answer suppository: “suppository-what’s-the-point,” ran my Internet search. I found the best suppository-related thread on yahoo answers – advantage: quick release; disadvantage: you’re sticking a foreign object into your…
Despite the harrowing experience of being sick in Japan, I think I have learned many new things. Most importantly, I have learned about the samurai principle in Japanese medicine. I have learned the Japanese version of “fake-it-till-you-make.” The best way to get better is to make yourself worse. When you have fever, go freeze yourself in a limited-edition patient room. Does your nose feel uncomfortable? Just wait till we’ll put a long object through it. Oh, and not to forget, what about sticking another foreign object into your…
