A visit to the doctor (part 2)

Now while the nurse who was weighing me spoke excellent English, the one who was inputting the data seemed to have trouble comprehending her as the first one said “he weight 126 kilos” once, twice, trice.

Maybe I should take it as some kind of flattering disbelief. Doubt it.

“One. Twenty. Six.” Hoping to have made it plenty clear. It must have been because I was soon ushered into a consulting room and introduced to the good Dr SuchandSuch. I moved to shake his hand and introduce myself and the gentleman looked at my hand curiously, unsure exactly what it was that I was trying to do. Despite his looking like someone at the latter end of his middle age, perhaps he was new at the job. He stood took, my hand, then invited me to sit. He then asked me what was wrong and I filled him in. All the while, he cleared his throat. Anyone who has lived in China knows that the population here produces phlegm at truly industrial rates it is why they are constantly hocking things up. Blame the polution, that’s fine. The point is that it is disgusting to behold. And it is even more disgusting to hear. But when you find yourself in a doctor’s office, you begin to be beset with doubts. Just where the fuck is he gonna hock that out? you ask yourself. And why the fuck didn’t he do it before seeing me? 

These are questions you learn not to ask yourself in China.

But you manage to ignore it and tell Herr Doktor Benway all that is ailing you. He asks all the right question (that WebMD helped you with. You god damn STUDIED for this exam) and you kind of feel confident. But now awkward Mr ChineseDoctor has to do something that is likely difficult for all medical professionals all over the world. He has to remain charming and affable while he violates your privacy for your own good. I am pretty sure this is considered the world’s most difficult trick, and it is why doctor’s in the west are paid the big bucks.

Well, he tried. I imagine this awkwardness happens in dating as well (I would know this if I dated, but I don’t cause i’m a fucking loser), and follows the formula of someone meeting a wonderful person, is convinced it is going to work out, if not forever at least for the night, only to get them home and lo, they turn out to be a god damn xenomorph.

I got only about thirty seconds of strained  pillow talk before the doctor shoved a finger right up my [SOOOOOO. I’m going to suspend, or rather redact some of the details of this here story. In lieu of that, I will give you some behind the scenes magic as to just how Locus Horribilis is made.  I keep a diary of sorts. It isn’t that kind of diary, where I gush over my crushes and talk about my angst. Rather, I use it to practice writing. I’ll describe a scene from my life, give it rich detail, then look over it a few days later and try to rewrite it. Because I take inspiration from what actually happens, it function like an account of what is going on in my life. It forces me to remember, in sometimes unfortunate levels of detail, what happens in my life. So, what was I saying? Oh yes…] at which point I, as I was sitting there much worse for where, laying on my side on one of those doctor beds, my pants just south of my ass, the doctor excuses himself, goes to the door, opens it, and begins talking to one of the nurses. The door to this room lets right into the foyer. I have no idea who saw me, but I know they saw my ass.

I always wanted to moon this country, but I was hoping it would have happened on my own terms. I also wish I had gotten the “Shit happens when you party naked” tattoo across my cheeks.

They came back in, and only then closed the curtain to give me the normal amount of privacy. A day late and a dollar short, I thought, but I was happy to have gotten it over with. I was a bit concerned that it had at some point turned into a two person job. Have you ever heard a better argument for dieting?

I was told what I already knew, and thanked the doctor for telling me. I went outside to find the nurse with a bill showing that this year’s peace of mind cost me about $100 USD. I was then told I would be given medication, and that I could pick it up in the adjacent building. I was given extremely detailed instruction as to getting to said building and receiving said medication.

I followed the instruction to the letter and found myself in an even more terrifying building. Apparently, all of Hangzhou had been invited to witness the receiving of the medication. I am assuming it is some kind of right of passage here, but it could be anything really. If you recall that main foyer area from that first Jurassic Park movie where towards the end of the movie the T-rex fight off the raptors. The room I was in looked like that, except the biomass of every T-rex that ever lived ever was replaced by a Chinese person. Jokes aside, the room was filled with service window after window and lines of people waiting to pick up their medication. Each line was  full, and I followed my very detailed and specific instructions to the line I had been told I needed to be in. Perhaps it was the immune system of China trying to hide its shame, but after waiting in for less than a minute, an idle woman in an adjacent line gave me a warm smile and waved me over. The millisecond I approached her a line formed behind her. I gave the lady my receipt and she went to fetch my medicine. The lady returned and then, as if by spiteful magic, the whole room went eerily silent as the lady explained just where I could shove it.

Literally. But I guess if you are going to live in China you have to get used to dealing with cramped and crowded places.

So the astute reader of this blog should have by now figured out exactly what medical condition I have. Considering the viewership of this blog can be counted on one hand, I don’t really give a shit.

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