HOSPITALS
Just call me "Indiana Jones" and be done with it.
As you will know (those of you who are still following my adventures), I have had a horrible cold for the past three weeks. Last week, it decided to move into my chest (no doubt aggrivated by the national pastime of smoking), and I had a few sleepless nights because I could not breathe. On Monday morning, I reached my limit of tolerence. I talked to people at work, and found out that there was an international clinic rather close by at the mammothly-proportioned Asan Medical Center and Hospital. I made an appointment and got directions, but was given the cryptic remark that it was a ten minute walk from the station.
The next morning, I got up early, and got on the train. It took a good half hour by subway to get to the station. I came out of the station (which was above ground), and saw a sign for the hospital saying "800m" and pointing the correct direction with an arrow. The sign was completely in Korean, but I am proud to say I could make out the work "Asan" in Hang'ul. I followed the signs around a long corner, and came to a crosswalk. Crossing the street in Korea at the best of times is hazardous; this time, the corner was completely obstructed so that a hapless pedestrian could not possibly see what was around the bend in the road. As I pondered the risk, an elegantly-dressed business woman came up and stood next to me. She too began nervously eying the odds of getting smooshed. Suddenly, she made her move, and ran like hell across the street. What was good enough for her was good enough for me, and I arrived a few seconds after her. She then smoothed her hair, and calmly walked away.
After a good coughing fit, I walked a few yards further, and saw a sign pointing UP. I followed the direction of the arrow up the hill on my left side, and saw that there were stairs cut into the hillside. By this time a bit winded, I wearily climbed the steps up the hill, and saw another sign at the top - "Asan 400m." The sign pointed in the direction of a paved walking and bicycle lane, which was rather well-populated given the time of day. The path wended its way along what appeared to a be a kind of reservior/man-made river. It was a long way down, and I could see the hospital in the distance on the other side of the gorge. There were beautiful white herons in the algae, but there was also a surprising amount of trash along the sides. I suddenly realized that there did not appear to be a way across the gorge. As I pondered this frightening thought, mentally picturing a swinging rope bridge, I saw the narrow, and as it turned out, rather rickety concrete bridge reaching across to the hospital. As I went across, I willed myself not to look down. On the other side, I had to go down the steps of another hillside, then down two more flights of stairs to the hospital. I picked a door at random (Asan is a huge, sprawling complex), and entered.
I entered into an airport lounge. The seating was arranged back to back; there were also newstands and coffee kiosks (coffee for the coughee?). I went to the sign marked, in English, "Information," but, as usual in Korea, I was heartbreakingly disappointed when the "Information" sign turned out to be all in Korean.
I got directions instead from two different desk clerks, and was directed to a small, but immaculate, doctor's office maked "Asan International Clinic." The nurses spoke nearly perfect English, and were very helpful getting me set up. I now have a "Patient Card," which means that I will be brought there if I get injured or seriously ill. The clinic was founded about five years ago specifically for expatriots. The doctor was Korean, but spoke with an American accent. I nearly cracked a smile when I looked at his door, and saw his name was "Dr. Kwak!" In his office, I noticed all his books were also in English; I gather from his selection that he is also a flight doctor/pilot. A female nurse was in attendance, presumably to protect my modesty.
Well, after asking me about my symptoms and checking me over, he told me I had "Mycoplasm" (which I later found out was also known by the much scarier name mycoplasmic pnewmonia). This lung illness most Korean school children get, so Korean adults are immune to it. Being unused to Korean germs and working with children all day, it is not surprising that I got ill. I have a dry cough, with no fever or other symptoms. It is very common with people who come and work here.
I am on a new antibiotic related to Erythromyacin (which I am very allergic to) but made from a different chemical compound. The cough is still with me, but a little better. I hope I continue to improve. If not, I will return next week, and he will run some tests.
Next time, I think that I will take a cab.
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