The short story for my MIA is serious computer issues, serious internet connectivity issues, serious VPN issues (which is necessary for me to even access Google around the Great Chinese Firewall), two major holidays which netted in two more awesome travel trips (blogs on those vacays will be coming, too) and that brings me nearly to the end of our first semester which includes grading research papers, writing and grading exams, catching up attendance records, and counting down the days until I FLY HOME!!!! 17 days, 12 hours and 42 minutes, but really, who's counting?! THANK GOD we get the month of February off, this girlie needs a break.
So, many of you already know that I lost my right kidney in what I call a 'cancer scare and God moment all rolled into one' six years ago to this week, actually. Having just one little feller hasn't slowed me down one iota. I still sail, snow ski, scuba dive, audition for Survivor (and was medically cleared to participate- and then they chose the sex therapist over me that season- I was THIS close, y'all,) travel the world, dodge Chinese traffic, you know- real dare devil fare.
Well, about two months ago I started having weird symptoms. Now I am living in a totally new environment, eating all sorts of weird s**t, breathing polluted air like I'm a pack a day smoker, so I don't think much about it. About three weeks ago, I started pulling the pieces together somewhere deep in my psyche and it dawned on me, "hmmmm.....I wonder if I am having a problem with my kidney?" When I hit the five year 'all clear' mark, and was released by my nephrologist back home, I assumed I was home free. When I met with my family doc before coming to China, she assured me I was the picture of health and sent me on my way to China with an armload of samples for all sorts of drugs as a going away present. Sadly, I burned through the antibiotics in my first six weeks here. The 'Beijing Haze' got the best of me early on. Suffice it to say, the LAST thing I wanted was any sort of health issue in a foreign country, with an insurance system I don't understand, and a language I do not speak. Saying "Ni Hao!" is about the extent of my Mandarin thus far.
It was time to put on my big girl panties and get some medical answers. I was experiencing far too many restless nights in the not knowing. I bravely pulled out my insurance card, got out my reading glasses to read the fine print, and dialed the number. As I waited, my heart was racing. When the line picked up, I get automated Mandarin, and that was my first introduction to the Chinese health care system. I called back listened to the Mandarin chitterish at least four times, before I recognized the numbers for 'press 1 for....' 'press 2 for....' etc. Thank God that beyond 'hello' I can at least count to 10 in Mandarin. I said a silent prayer on the fourth go around, and randomly selected 'san' (that's 3) and lo and behold I got an English-speaking person. Okay, she was a Chinese woman with a very thick Mandarin accent with all sorts of English mispronunciations, but at least it was progress! I take my victories where I can get them, people :)
She asked the usual demographics, and then got to my list of current symptoms and concerns. I explained that I had one kidney, and I was having some concerns that it was not doing so well. I told her I needed a blood and urine test to check my numbers, and I needed to see a nephrologist, if possible, depending on the lab results. She took down my information, said she would try to arrange for an appointment, and said she would call me back. I breathed a sigh of relief, hung up the phone, and waited...
...all of 10 minutes. No joke. Score one point for the Chinese health care system!
Now, to see a specialist in the US might take you at least 4-6 weeks to get in to your family doc. Only then can you get a referral to the specialist, and only then you will likely be told it will be another 6-8 weeks before you can actually see the specialist. Sounds about right, huh?
Did I mention that I called the insurance company on a Sunday afternoon? And she called me back in 10 minutes with an appointment for Tuesday? As in two days away? Things were looking better already.
The following day at work, my Chinese office mate, Edwin, looked up the subway lines I needed to take to the east side of the city, drew me a map from the station to the hospital, and he wrote down the hospital name in Chinese characters, just in case I needed to stop some random person on the street to point me in the right direction. Our school liaison assured me that since I was being seen at the 'biggest and best' hospital in Beijing, and my doctor was in the International Department, I should not have any problem with a language barrier. I was skeptical, but hopeful, about that.
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| I got up the butt crack of night to join the other sorry suckers making the morning commute on Beijing's ridiculously crowded subway system. I squeezed myself in the back of the last car, and popped a squat on the floor with the locals. Squatting is how the Chinese rest. It's not unusual to see grown men squatting in the middle of the sidewalk, smoking cigarettes and chatting it up. I guess squatting is comfortable for them; they've had a lifetime of practice at squatting over the squatty potties. What I didn't take into account is I am 51 years old, with a trick right knee that is unaccustomed to squatting for an hour long train ride. I nearly missed the twenty seconds the door was opened at my stop. It took me a good 18 seconds to pull myself up from the squatting position. That left me less than two seconds to push myself out the door with the rest of the crowd! |
Next was the usual fare for first time appointments, except everything about Chinese healthcare is unusual to me. I simply signed this here, and signed that there, handed over my passport and insurance card and hoped I was on the right track. I got up at the butt crack night, allowing two hours to navigate my way to the doctor. By this time, I only had 10 minutes left to go and it seemed I was no where near the doctor's office yet.
I wasn't.
Next I had to go buy a hospital ID card. down the hall around the corner, and God only knows where. Yep, you BUY a hospital card. But it was only 5y, which is all of eighty-five cents. Armed with a new hospital card in hand, I retraced my steps back to the insurance office to simply ask, "Do I get to see the doctor yet?" Nope, I needed to go to Medical Records.
I tried to explain that I didn't have any medical records with me. She looked at me like I had three heads, and escorted me on to an elevator. I don't even know if we went up or down, I was so turned around at this point. It seemed we were in the hospital basement, or maybe the morgue, where we finally ended up at a wire fenced window. Behind the fence I was facing a nurse in a white cap that looked straight out of the 1950's. I took a look around at the puke green walls and some funky smell I could not identify, and suddenly I had the realization that I was in the middle of a scene from One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. I was facing what looked like a Chinese version of Nurse Ratchett! My escort chittered in Mandarin to Nurse Ratchett, then said, 'OK. She take care of you.' As I was left alone, I turned to Nurse Ratchett, and offered my best morning smile :) She paused to answer the phone, and no less than three other Chinese people came rushing to the window trying to push past me. Where did they come from?! I never even heard them- sneaky SOB's.
See, there's no sense of personal space in China. It is every man for himself. Lines mean nothing here. Seldom is there ever a formed line to anything, anywhere. It's simply a mass of Chinese humanity pushing their way toward the fresh vegetables, or to the counter at McDonald's, or through a subway door. I may be small, but I have quickly learned to push with the best of them. When I get pushed past pissed off, my green eyes flash, and then they typically will part like the Red Sea for me. Well, those three Chinese men 'got the look' and I believe I saw Nurse Ratchett crack the slightest smile as I stood my ground.
As it turns out, Medical Records is where you get your 'chart'. For the Chinese, it looks like a composition 'blue book' except it has the symbol stamped in red on the front. You know which symbol I mean. I was given what looked more like the typical medical chart. When the Chinese have an appointment to see their doctor, they first go to medical records to get their blue book. (Hence, the three pushing vultures behind me). During their appointment, the doctor makes notations in their blue book, and after their appointment, they return their blue book to Medical Records to be stored. Interesting concept.
Nurse Ratchett handed me my chart (how does it already have stuff in it?) and I ask her where do I go to see the doctor? She shrugged her shoulders, and that was the opening the vultures were looking to swoop in past me. I pushed my way past the three shouting men, and found my way back to the elevator. I was in the basement afterall, so I found my way back to the insurance office One. More. Time. I've been at this game of charades and mazes for well over an hour, in the 'International Department' where I was the only Western person I had seen all morning. (I knew I had good reason to be skeptical about this venture). The only reasonably English speaking Chinese person I could find was back at the insurance office. By my third arrival to her desk, she was clearly not happy to escort me back to the elevator, to another floor, past a nurse's station, where she ordered me to "You wait HERE."
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| I politely sat HERE. 'Here' was a hallway of what looks like a converted hospital floor. What was formerly a patient's room, is now a doctor's office. Chairs line the walls, and tables or racks sit outside each door,which hold the patient's charts. A nurse from the nurse's station will place your chart in the order you are to be seen by the doctor, according to your appointment time. The table in the foreground was for my doctor, the rack was for a dermatologist next door. Nephrology, dermatology- you know, they go together like peas and carrots. Further down the hall must have been OB, for all the expectant mothers milling about. I am still amazed by the Chinese way, it is so different from what I am used to. Notice the blue books laying on the table, where you can also see my chart. |
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| Now, notice that my chart has been moved? Only because I had to scare the vultures away. At one point, there were four Chinese people crowded around that table. One of them picked up my chart, and they were all reading through it. THEY WERE OTHER PATIENTS WAITING TO BE SEEN- WTF?! Clearly there are no HIPAA violations in China! I told you these people have an issue with personal space and boundaries. Geesh. |
Well, Dr. Wang Li (or Dr. Li Wang, I'm not really sure) seemed to be a nice enough man. He's about sixty years old, spoke broken English, but we managed ok. Doctors here in China do all of their own 'work'- they weigh you, check your height, blood pressure, temperature, etc. I explained my situation, and showed him the results of the medical check I had on my second day after arrival in China. If you remember, we all had to go through a medical check and register with the police department with in 24 hours of arriving in China, to receive our temporary resident Visa. I could not read my report as it was all in Mandarin, but I could see some numbers that were in red ink, and I assumed they were about my kidney function. Let me suffice it to say, my numbers have always been slightly above the normal range, ever since I have had just one kidney. but they have been stable for five years at just slightly above normal. Dr. Li (Wang?) confirmed what I suspected, but he rightfully wanted to run a new CBC and urine test to get a more accurate picture. Once I received my test results, I was to call back for a follow up appointment. I left his office armed with lab orders written in Mandarin, and no clue as to where the lab was located. I was sent back to the elevator and up to the insurance office. I wasn't greeted with a friendly 'Good Morning!' by the fourth time I appeared at the insurance woman's desk. She got me pointed in the right direction, and I had to go to a nurse's station down the hallway. The nurse led me to another waiting area, placed my chart on a table outside another door, and I politely took a seat and hoped for the best. The vultures descended on the 'lao wai's' (foreigner's) chart once again, to read through my personal information. This time I didn't even bother. It's amazing to me how quickly I can adjust to what we ex-pats call "Chinese normal."
I was eventually called in to the office, which was a large room set up like a Red Cross Blood drive. I took a seat behind partition number 'leo' (6) while another nurse dressed in a 1950's nurse's cap got all of her vials and syringes ready. I am THE WORST about giving blood. Not in the sense that I freak out, get queasy, and pass out. I have the world's tiniest veins, and I don't give up blood easily. She checked both arms, my wrists, the tops of both hands. I pumped a rubber ball; she smacked my arms. As we went through this whole routine for the second time on each arm, I was wondering how I could play charades to tell her that the nurses back home can usually hit a vein with a butterfly. By the third and fourth hardy smacks on my arm, she got up and left. I was all set to pantomime being a butterfly, when she returned with a butterfly in her hand. Praise Jesus! I breathed a sigh of relief, she hit me on the first try, and she got her three vials of blood.
Then she handed me two empty vials...
I look at her like, "What's this for?" and she hands me two flimsy little plastic cups (like the size of a child's cough medicine cup). She points to the door, and it becomes clear I am to return with two vials of pee. Interesting. I wander the hallways looking for a bathroom sign. I end up BACK AT THE INSURANCE OFFICE FOR THE FIFTH TIME, and the lady looks up to see my face. She gave me a disgusted look, grunted (the Chinese do this funny grunt thing to show disapproval), and she pointed out and to the right. Out and to the right I went, glass vials and flimsy cups in hand.
I wish I had taken a picture of the flimsy cups. They weren't actually cups, more like a tiny bowl, that was a bit wider at the top. Actually, it looked like a miniature version of the plastic dome lid you get to a salad at Wendy's- are you with me?! It even had a little flimsy tab, like the dome lids on the Wendy's salad bowl. You know what I'm sayin'? And they were FLIMSY- not the sturdy clear plastic dome of a Wendy's salad bowl lid. It's important to the story...
At this point, if you are a man, PLEASE stop reading. Seriously, just. stop. here.
Ladies, you may continue on...
Only a woman can appreciate the calamity about to be bestowed upon me. If you are in the 'older woman category', you might want to grab a tissue. And stop drinking your coffee. At our age, I am well aware that when a woman gets to laughing, well....
I don't want you blowing hot coffee out of your nose, while you are sitting at your desk at work. Worse yet, I don't want you giving a urine specimen in your panties as you read about my unfortunate urine specimen tale.
So I am dressed for work, as I hope to return to school after this half day fiasco at a Chinese hospital. I have on dress slacks, heels, a sweater, scarf. I am carrying my purse, down winter coat, hat, mittens and another scarf-, as it's freezing a** cold in Beijing these days. Oh, and I am holding my two glass vials, and two FLIMSY cups in my left hand.
I walk in the bathroom, and it smells disgusting. Worse than any public squatty potty I have been in, anywhere in China. The floor is filthy, sticky, and just plain gross. I start stuffing hat, mittens, scarves into my coat sleeves. I peek in the potty, and of course, it's a filthy squatty potty. I roll up my pant legs. I look for a peg to hang my coat and purse, there is none. I throw my coat over the door, sling my purse over my shoulder, and begin to shimmy out of my drawers with one hand. It's a helluva balancing act.
I pee in the cup, sort of, and realize there are two cups, one for each vial. I have the vials in my free hand. I stop peeing long enough to separate the two FLIMSY cups, and look for a 'clean enough' spot to set the one pee cup on the floor. I take aim at the second pee cup, and I take a glance at my first pee cup on the floor beside me. PEE IS QUICKLY LEAKING OUT OF THE BOTTOM OF THE CUP! Wtf?!
Crap! Crap! Crap!
I hurriedly lay the second cup down, and take the rubber stopper off one of the vials with my teeth. I set the rubber stopper down to pour the pee, which is running everywhere, into the vial. I'm praying I can get enough in there, because I have pee everywhere. All of this is happening from a squatting position in a filthy dirty squatty potty, mind you. Those of you who know me well, know that my OCDness is already in high gear over the filthiness of this whole scene, and now I have pee on the floor, pee on my hands, pee everywhere. I fumble around, (still squatting) trying to get some baby wipes and hand sanitizer out of my purse. My purse falls off my shoulder, I lose my balance, more pee spills, and I accidentally KICKED THE RUBBER STOPPER out the door! Can I not catch a freakin' break?! If you remember from way back when, in my first few weeks here, I had to get used to stepping up into a squatty potty, and remembering to step down out of the stall after my business was finished. So, the stopper rolled out the door, down the step, and who knows to God knows where.
Pee on one hand, no stopper for the vial, another vial in the other hand yet to be filled, another flimsy pee cup on the floor still, my drawers around my ankles, yet I can't let them really be around my ankles as I am trying desperately to keep everything off of this dirty, disgusting floor- and I am trying to breathe through my mouth through it all....it was at this point when all I could do was laugh. I laughed my ass off in the stall, as I fell out the door, as I cleaned myself up, and when I found the errant rubber stopper. (Praise Jesus!) All I could think was, "Oh, China, you slay me sometimes!" I was laughing so hard I was crying, as I cleaned my everything up at the sink :)
And for the rest of the story....
I got my results back, and it was as I had expected. I have progressed to Stage 3 Chronic Kidney Disease. Thankfully, I already had plans to return to the States for our February break. (Yep! We get the whole month of February off school :))) I called my specialist from back home, and I am taking my results with me for a consultation when I see him on February 10th. I am sure I will need to make further adjustments in my diet, maybe medicine, maybe more, maybe not at all. I am just praying that I can ride out Stage 3 for a good twenty years. Stage 4 is dialysis, Stage 5 is a kidney transplant.
And yet, I remain hopeful. It could always be worse. So, I choose happy :)
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