H1N1 and visiting a South Korean Hospital — Do NOT pick your nose and then hand out sterile masks!

Almost two weeks ago Julianne became very ill with flu-like symptoms. But she didn’t have a fever so we thought, perhaps wrongly (apparently a fever is NOT mandatory to have H1N1), that she probably didn’t have H1N1. A couple days later she was really sick and having some trouble breathing so we headed to the hospital.

The first contact people in the ER are two clerks behind a counter, and one to two security guards who monitor incoming patients and people. Considering the hype over H1N1 I was surprised that there wasn’t a person at the door taking everyone’s temperature as they entered the area. Instead, the security guards hand out masks to incoming people . . . but didn’t seem to be giving them to 100% of the people entering the ER area. (Also, inside the ER area I only saw about 60-70% of people wearing their masks, some incorrectly, and no one seemed to be asking the people not wearing masks to put them on.)

Since the security guards act as first contact people (after the two clerks) in the entrance of the ER they had sterile masks. Some of them wore them correctly, while others wore them around their neck with the nose and mouth uncovered . . .

Considering the fact that a security guard comes into contact with EVERY PERSON entering the ER I was rather disgusted with the guards not wearing their masks. If they did have H1N1 they could be infecting patients and visitors to the ER . . .

Anyways, more on this after I continue the story . . .

Julianne gave her alien registration card, national health insurance booklet, and hospital info card to the two clerks at the desk who then waved us through to the ER doors where the security guards pass out masks. We were handed masks and then walked through to the open treatment area (open as in there are no private rooms or wall dividers between each area and everyone sees everything that is taking place while you talk to your doctor–there are curtains but they are rarely pulled around the patient).

Before seeing a doctor Julianne was seated in the hallway where a nurse with excellent English asked her some preliminary questions. But when she tried to call up Julianne’s registration file on her computer we found out that the clerk at the front desk had failed to sign Julianne into the hospital as a patient–uhm, hello patient in-take procedures? I wonder why he didn’t enter her into the system . . . the nurse looked puzzled and did what should have been done earlier.

It was around this point that another nurse walked up and asked me to sign the ‘friend/family responsibility for patient form’ that you must sign if you’re the person coming in with a patient. It says things like: take care of personal belongings, be with the patient at all times, and other things along those lines.

Anyways, Julianne was having a hard time breathing and when the nurse found this out she hooked her up to a heart rate and blood pressure monitor . . . . . . .

Click on the link below to see pictures and read more at Kimchi Icecream: The Second Serving . . . . I've moved over to wordpress.com and will be blogging there from now on.

H1N1 and visiting a South Korean Hospital — Do NOT pick your nose and then hand out sterile masks!

J

Visiting a Korean Emergency Room -- Gangwon National University Teaching Hospital: a nurse gave Julianne a needle full of "red stuff" tonight . . .

Earlier today, around lunch, Julianne developed a severe headache. She suffered through the rest of her day at the middle school and then came home.

When I got home from work she was sleeping, and I thought that other than a headache she was okay. Around 6pm she woke up--and I realized she was NOT okay.

I started asking her to describe the pain, but she wasn't verbalizing herself very well--so I simplified it to asking her to give me a number from 0-10 so I could assess whether or not she needed to go the emergency room at nearby Gangwon National University Hospital.

She told me her pain was an 8, maybe a 9.

0 – 10 Numeric Rating Scale

Indications: Adults and children (> 9 years old) in all patient care settings who are able to use
numbers to rate the intensity of their pain.

0 = No Pain
1-3 = Mild Pain (nagging, annoying, interfering little with ADLs)
4–6 = Moderate Pain (interferes significantly with ADLs)
7-10 = Severe Pain (disabling; unable to perform ADLs)


So I got her up off the bed, dressed, and then asked her if she could manage walking outside to get a taxi.

While getting Julianne ready to go outside I called her co-teacher from the first semester of her contract. This woman is an awesome human being. Her English is great, she understands Western culture, and she's very helpful. I didn't waste time calling Julianne's current co-teacher whose English is terrible, who lacks Western cultural awareness, and who just seems to amplify Julianne's stress on a daily basis.

We found a taxi and headed to the hospital. Julianne's old co-teacher told me she'd keep her phone near her in case I needed her to translate and communicate with the doctor if he/she didn't speak English well enough to assess Julianne, and let us know what they wanted to do.

During the taxi ride the car went over several speed bumps, and the driver accelerated in the usual floor it style . . . needless to say this didn't help Julianne's pain level, and a few tears were shed during the short trip.

Arriving at the hospital we went into the main entrance to find a dark almost too dark main foyer with an empty waiting area, and everything closed down for the night. Walking in even further we saw in a back corner a set of doors with Emergency written on them in English. We headed in that direction.

Walking into the Emergency Room I began having flashbacks to the last time we had to go to the hospital for Julianne . . . I told myself to wait and see what kind of doctor we got, and what level of English he/she had.

I sat Julianne down at the entrance of the ER and walked forward to find someone to help us. A doctor and ? (another doctor) walked over to me and I explained that Julianne's head had "shooper pain"--I dropped the Konglish (Korean English style pronunciation) talk the second I realized the doctor was able to speak English.

The doctor gestured for Julianne and I to follow him and took us to an area with 14 hospital gurneys, seven on each side of the room. (Later on I pulled out my Flip Mino and took a few pics).

Something I still dislike about medical care in Korea is the completely communal organization and structuring of space. Fortunately for us there only 3 other patients in the area, and the doctor took us to a gurney that was 3 beds away from the nearest patient.

Then he began asking Julianne questions. Some of the questions were about her pain . . . and a few were about other basic things like allergies, etc. The doctor asked twice if Julianne had diabetes and I began to see where that inquiry was heading and firmly said no she doesn't.

Julianne could barely keep her head up and eyes open due to how much her head hurt. I tried to help with the communication without getting in the way too much of the doctor or Julianne giving an answer (though she was having trouble thinking clearly, and a few of the doctor's words had some pronunciation issues).

At this point I called Julianne's GOOD co-teacher and asked her to confirm what the doctor was telling us. He wanted to do a blood test, a urine test, and X-rays of Julianne's chest and head to make sure nothing serious was going on . . . we thought this was a little excessive, but when in Korea . . . you have to go with the flow--to a degree.

After confirming that was what the doctor wanted, he left, and I helped Julianne to lie down. I then headed about 15 feet away to a registration booth with Julianne's Alien Registration Card and Korean National Health Insurance card/booklet. I handed them to the guy behind the desk and with no questions asked he signed her in and did the computer thing--whatever it is that they do when they sign you into a hospital here.

Getting the cards back I went back to Julianne. She told me they had done a stick test (where they puncture the tip of your finger to get blood), and I groaned. I assumed, rightly so I think, that because Julianne is "fat" (according to Korean norms) that they must think that Julianne has diabetes and that that must be the source of her problem.

The stabbing throbbing pain in her head was still severe and Julianne was not doing very well. I was not happy that the diagnosis wasn't going faster.

And then the nurse walked up with an IV stand on wheels and began setting up a tray full of syringes and IV kit. She began to set up an IV--and Julianne and I both look at each other with a WTF is going on instant communication.

We stop her (Julianne a little more vehemently than me, lol) and ask her why she's setting up a saline bag when no diagnosis had been made, and the problem wasn't clear.

The nurse unfortunately didn't have a lot of English, but actually she did quite well after a moment's hesitation (probably due to us refusing the treatment--I suspect that most Koreans just let her do whatever she's doing without questioning it).

At this point the doctor also walked up. Julianne was about 3 nanoseconds from going ballistic--which actually might have had very high entertainment value if the situation wasn't medical, lol--and I tried to calm her down so that the doctor could explain what was going on and why.

We told him that it seemed very odd, when compared with Canadian and American medical practices, for an IV saline drip to be started when Julianne did not have any medical symptoms of dehydration . . .

The doctor backed off on the IV bag, and we agreed to the IV catheter being put in to take blood. The nurse explained fairly well that she wanted to put in an IV catheter because Julianne needed to have blood taken (possibly more than once) and her veins are small and hard to get to. She never really explained why she ALSO had been planning on putting Julianne on a saline drip . . .

The nurse put the rubber hose tie-thingy around Julianne's elbow and after 90 seconds Julianne and I both looked at each other as the nurse got a quizzical look on her face, and began lightly smacking Julianne's arm trying to get a vein to pop up--nothing.

Julianne told her to use a vein in the top of her hand, and gestured to back up the communication. The nurse moved the rubber band tie down to just above her wrist, and then spent the next 2 minutes waiting and tapping and smacking Julianne's hand trying to find a vein. She finally began probing with her fingers searching for the vein, and after a moment of hesitation decided that she'd found it.

Stick--ouch!

Blood was drawn with the ole fashion style needle with a plunger--as opposed to the vacuum needle blood drawing that most of us are used to back in North America.

We were then told that it would take 90 minutes for the blood test to be completed.

AFTER taking blood the nurse then proceeds to take Julianne's blood pressure, and her temperature using an ear thermometer.

I notice two things. The first is that the blood pressure cuff doesn't fit Julianne's arm--seriously, she's not that big! So I put my hand on the velcro to help keep it secure while the nurse finishes up.

The second thing that I also see is that she doesn't swab the head of the thermometer to sanitize it before sticking it in Julianne's ear. Later, on another patient, I watch even more closely and see that nothing is done to sanitize the ear piece before and after . . . . sigh, why do I torture myself with these things . . . ?

I mention this to Julianne and her reply is, "They don't use gloves so why bother with little things like sanitizing a thermometer?"

Julianne was still experiencing stabbing throbbing pain behind her eyes and forehead, and things were not good.

After about 15 minutes of watching her in pain we talk about it, and I got to find the doctor and tell him that something needs to be done about the pain. He says we should wait until after the blood test . . .

He shows me a computer screen and sas that only part of the blood test results were available and that we needed to wait longer.

Five minutes later Julianne's pain jumped up another notch, and she started crying. I returned to the doctor and while I was telling him that something needed to be done now to manage Julianne's pain levels a nurse was behind me at the bed administering a needle full of "red stuff" through the IV catheter . . . needless to say I was shocked.

I get back to the bed and find out from Julianne that a nurse had just given her a needle full of "red stuff" and I was furious with myself for not keeping her in sight at all times. I had thought that the doctor would tell me he had told the nurse to give her an injection, but he didn't. The nurse also didn't try to tell Julianne what she was doing, and Julianne had had her hand covering her eyes due to the pain in her head so she didn't realize a needle was being put into the IV catheter until it was too late . . . yeah.

I decide that I'm going to remain calm and not freak out that someone just put "red stuff" into my girlfriend and hope that it lowers Julianne's pain level.

About 10 minutes later I decide that I should ask what they are testing Julianne's blood for. If they were just testing to see if she was diabetic I was going to nip that in the bud and suggest that other avenues of diagnosis be explored. The doctor tells me that they are looking for "infections in the blood" . . . odd, but okay . . .

The drug kicks in after about 10 minutes and Julianne's pain levels drop to about 6, though I still feel her pulse beating regularly for about 5 beats, and then racing for 5, as the pain ebbs and flows in her head.

About 25 minutes later Julianne's feeling better, and she says the pain is down to around a 4. She's a little more talkative, and her mood has improved slightly--and so had mine. It's hard to watch your girlfriend in pain . . . never a good thing.

Looking around the room I notice the little guy with an IV--it seems like EVERYBODY who goes to an ER in Korea gets an IV--and an evil thought enters my head.

I tell Julianne, "Wouldn't it be funny if I walk over there and tell him that we're going to have an English lesson" because I'm bored. Can you imagine the poor little guy thinking, "Oh my god! I can't escape being forced to learn even when I'm sick and in a hospital bed!" Lol . . . I didn't do it, but for a moment I thought the entertainment value might have been worth it.

After about an hour the doctor returns and goes over the blood test results with Julianne. He tells her a few things are slightly elevated. He then says that he thinks that stress must be the trigger of the headache, and that she needs to rest and take some 'oral medication.'

We wait for about 20 minutes and he comes back with the meds. Julianne and I look at them and ask him to explain what each pill is--there were THREE. One was the uber-tylenol that apparently only ER's have, the second was a mild sedative (this got Julianne and I raising our eyebrows), and the third was for Julianne's stomach/nausea to help it calm down.

The doctor walks away, and I quickly grab her cell phone to take a pic of the pills. Julianne examines each pill to see if she recognizes any letters, the shape of the pill, and the size or color . . . her mother was an ICU nurse back in America, and her step-mother is also a Radiology nurse . . . so Julianne has a bit of a background in drugs to say the least.

After trying to find out what kind of drug the "red stuff" had been in the injection the nurse gave her while my back was turned for all of 90 seconds . . . and the pronunciation the doctor had while trying to say the name, and then after we didn't understand he tried to describe it which came out as this, "something-flammatory something-steroid something something" . . . he was trying, and if we'd really been concerned we'd have asked him to write it down--but seeing as the drug had already been administered it was a little late to say hey, no, stop . . . sigh.

Julianne pops the 3 pills and then we wait a little more. At this point I'm really ready to get out of there--I hate ERs.

I ask the nurse if we can go, and she goes to Julianne and takes out her IV catheter, and then goes to print out the bill.

The bill was 70,000won. By American standards the pricing it's a fabulous price. By Canadian, a little expensive as the system there is different. I didn't mind paying the fee, and would have paid more without complaining because the doctor was friendly, kind, caring, and spoke pretty good English all things considered.

While I paid the bill the doctor returned to say goodbye to Julianne, and make sure she understood the instructions for the 3 days of meds he'd given her of the same stuff she'd just taken.

I give him my name card and invite him to visit the university. He enthusiastically pulls out his wallet to give me his own card but doesn't have any, lol.

I tell him his English is very good, and thank him profusely for helping us. He gives the typical response, "No, no, my English is poor." Julianne and I thank him again, and then leave.

Overall, a positive experience in spite of the delays in getting Julianne some pain meds, and a few odd attempts to put her on an IV saline drip when there wasn't really a reason to do so.

I seriously hope that this trip to a Korean Emergency Room is the last one I ever have to do.

Julianne is sleeping now, and the pain is almost entirely gone. I hope she wakes up with a painless head tomorrow, and doesn't have to take the drugs the doctor gave her. But at least we have them if we need them.

What a day . . .

J

Got a cold and cough like me? Try Chinese Herbal Cough Medicine

For over a week now I've been fighting the cold and cough that's been going around . . . and tonight I finally broke down and decided at 2am to try the Chinese herbal cough medicine Julianne took when she was sick a while ago . . . in case you missed it the first time, here's her video.

Now I really have to wonder what Julianne was thinking when she tries to reassure me by saying, "Just swallow . . . an' bear it!" . . . yeah, reassuring words . . . not!

To add to my apprehensiveness I also juxtaposed Julianne's video with this girl on youtube taking Buckley's . . .

It's not a good idea to psych yourself out before you take medicine by remembering the contorting faces of two people taking cough medicine!

My cough is bad enough that I decided to power through the stuff in spite of the very evident misgivings you'll see flash across my face. I mean, seriously, if you look at the facial contortions Julianne made when she took the stuff wouldn't you be apprehensive too?

Julianne says, "Nice biiiig swallow, baby." My face does this,

Then we have a slight miscommunication about how much I'm supposed to take--I'd seen her take just the plastic cap before . . . she tells me to take two and my face does this--

Here's the video of me taking a shot of the stuff . . . (I'm too tired to search for them right now but I think my facial expressions kick Roboseyo's expression pics in the butt!!)

I think it kind of tastes like "Makgeolli, also known as takju, is a traditional alcoholic beverage native to Korea. It is made from rice (referred to in English as "Korean rice wine") which gives it a milky, off-white color, and sweetness. It is made by fermenting a mixture of boiled rice and water, and is about 6.5–7% alcohol by volume. It was originally quite popular among farmers, earning it the name nongju (농주 / 農酒), which means "farmer liquor". Dongdongju (동동주) is a drink very similar to makgeolli, and both are commonly imbibed alongside Korean "pancakes" called pajeon (파전) or bindaetteok (빈대떡)." (from wikipedia.com)

Anyways . . . to compound my misery I've also been staying up late at night because I can't lie down--I cough too much--and I'm still up right now at 3am blogging because my body clock is also whacked.

Julianne has to go into her school tomorrow and also on Tuesday and Wednesday for the ridiculous 3 days that mark the end of the 'winter vacation' and beginning of the Korean 'spring break' period which is just before the new school year which begins in March . . . this is when schools do a lot of the graduation ceremonies and a few other odds and ends so there will likely be no classes for her to teach, and she'll just sit at her desk. If she does get told to go to a classroom full of students there will be no teaching--the students know it, the Korean teachers know it, and veteran foreign teachers know it . . . luckily Julianne works with Korean coteachers who actually communicate with her what is going on as often as possible so she knows that she should just bring a game or DVD to the class and let the kids do whatever they feel like . . . the 'real' classes don't begin until March.

Well, I should try and get some sleep . . . I'm still coughing a little--so much for the magic of Chinese herbal cough medicine. I hope it keeps the cough down enough that I can get some sleep . . .

J

Lack of sleep 'raises cold risk' = The Korean Cold Wave

I blogged about sleep and Korean students a little while ago and then saw this on the BBC site today.

Lack of sleep 'raises cold risk'

An excerpt from the article stresses that 'quality' sleep is a must too.

Sleep quality

The less an individual slept, the more likely they were to develop a cold.

The quality of sleep also appeared to be important. Volunteers who spent less than 92% of their time in bed asleep were five-and-a-half times more likely to become ill than those who were asleep for at least 98% of their time in bed.

The researchers believe that lack of quality sleep disturbs regulation of key chemicals produced by the immune system to fight infection.

I guess this helps us understand a little more clearly the "The Korean Cold Wave" phenomenon that hits public schools regularly AND universities each semester . . . sigh.

J

E2 Visa Health/Medical Check for Renewing a Contract -- One of the things I truly dislike about living in Korea

Proviso: The following description of a medical/health check in Korea is based on ONE individual's experience. Every foreign teacher who gets a medical check done in Korea will have a different experience due to a wide variety of factors. The only way you can prepare is to bring a Korean co-teacher or friend who speaks Korean fluently with you to the clinic. Have every document (alien registration card, passport, etc) with you in case you're asked for it. And most importantly--check your assumptions and expectations at the door because it's very likely at least ONE part of the process will be different than how things are done in your home country and culture.


About 2 weeks ago I had to go get a medical check. The university I work at makes all of its faculty go every year. I considered trying to explain that I had ALREADY gone for a medical check this past February 2008 when I was applying for my E2 Visa . . . but because I didn't keep a copy of the medical report, and because EVERYBODY IS DOING IT (being the individual who doesn't go is not an option), I just gave up and went. The one good thing about the whole situation was that it was free.

I've heard medical/health check fees in Korea run from about 30 000 up to 75 000 . . . depending on where you are at the time, and who is running the medical check. The ludicrous truth is that there is NO SET STANDARD of what tests are done at these medical checks. Yet the supposed public concern of the government and parents of Korean students to safeguard their children who are being taught by foreign teachers doesn't seem to have developed and implemented across the nation a standard set of criteria that must be tested. Even the HIV and drug test are missed by doctors running the tests . . . oh, and IMMIGRATION officers . . . which totally blows my mind.

Last February when I was getting all of my paper work processed at the immigration office I had to insist 3 times that the officer check my medical documents to make sure that they were accurate and fulfilled the E2 Visa criteria of HIV test and drug test. The medical report was MISSING that information! If I hadn't insisted on it being checked I wonder if the error would have been found. So the officer called the international clinic in Incheon International Airport where I had had my medical check done and asked the nurse to confirm over the phone (something else that blows my mind--you can do that? How do they KNOW that the person calling is a doctor/nurse/immigration official and not one of my students or any Mr. Kim that feels like finding out my medical info?) that the tests had been done, and that I had passed . . . unbelievable.

Anyways, I went to this four story clinic that specializes in doing medical checks with a coworker and friend. I hadn't been to the clinic in Chuncheon that apparently specializes in doing medical health checks before so I took some pictures.

My friend and I had tried to be proactive by getting the form we thought we had to fill out BEFORE going to the clinic. We got a copy and had the more difficult parts of it translated into English.

These are some of the questions LOOSELY TRANSLATED into English.

1) Have you had a serious illness/disease in the past? Do you have one now?
If so, please list what it/they are.

2) Has anyone in your family ever died of a serious illness or disease? If so, please list who and what they died of.

3) Do you have any disease/s you worry about now? If so, please write about them.

4) What do you prefer to eat on a daily basis?
a) vegetables only
b) meat only
c) vegetables and meat

5) How often do you drink?
a) rarely
b) once a month
c) 1-2 times a week
d) 3-4 times a week
e) almost every day

6) If you drink SOJU (as opposed to other kinds of alcohol, like there's a difference), how much do you drink in one sitting?

I found #6 VERY INTERESTING. Why is there a difference between beer/wine/whiskey and soju? Is drinking soju generally considered to be 'less harmful' because it's a Korean traditional drink? I suspect that a government sponsored public awareness campaign might be desperately needed in Korea about drinking alcohol and the health related consequences.

7) How much do you smoke?

8) If you smoke, how much do you smoke every day?

9) How long have you been smoking?

10) How often do you exercise every week?

11) Have you felt exhausted recently?

I carefully filled out the form and brought it with me thinking that I was prepared and everything would go smoothly--DOH! You'd think that I'd know better after nearly four years of living in Korea that NOTHING EVER GOES SMOOTHLY when I have to get something done for a government agency in Korea . . . n-o-t-h-i-n-g.

This (below) is the main waiting room on the first floor. You fill out forms (four pages apparently, but I was never asked to complete all of the pages after handing in my one page form I had brought with me--not sure why) in Korean and then after waiting you get called up to the desks at the front.

The doctor (?), technician (?), clerk (?) who took my information had a hard time reading my name printed clearly in English (that or he had never heard of the name "Jason" before so didn't know how to type it into his computer in Korean). So I handed him my alien registration card and medical insurance card. He typed in some info on the computer and then handed me a clipboard with my forms on it and said in Korean to go to the second floor.

On the second floor I saw this long counter with two technicians behind it. There were about 30 seats with several Koreans waiting in them. I then realized with a growing sense of dread that EVERYTHING I was about to get done on this floor would be open to the viewing pleasure of the Koreans waiting in the seats . . . this is one of the cultural differences that I really can't get past. I deal with it--but I don't like it.

The second floor is where you get to pee in a cup and have your blood taken. Luckily the first task can be done in the bathroom . . . lol, sigh.

I took a few pics and then chatted with my friend while waiting for my name to be called.

The technician on the right was calling out names and handing out paper cups with your name and info on a label pasted onto the side of the cup. You were then expected to go to the bathroom and fill it.

I didn't understand who I was supposed to give my sample cup to after completing the trip to the bathroom. I was confused and alarmed about walking around with a paper cup full of . . . and when I walked up to the counter to give it to the technician he gestured towards the back of the room and said something in Korean that was way too fast for me to understand . . .

Walking towards the back of the room with a total sense of "cultural vertigo" ('a dizzying sensation of tilting within stable surroundings or of being in tilting or spinning surroundings') was odd for me because I generally think I handle cultural differences and shocks fairly well now . . . well, nope, not this time. "Cultural vertigo" is something I coined just for this posting . . . I think it articulates what I was feeling a lot better than "culture shock."
______________________________________________________________
UPDATE: I realized that I said (above) "cultural vertigo" is something I coined just for this posting" without doing a Google search to see if anyone else has put those two words together and defined it in the same way or something similar . . . here is what I found.

1. http://www.culturalvertigo.blogspot.com/

2. NewsCube: "Cultural Vertigo: Islam and European Immigration" (S01E03)

3. and there's the third search result . . .

Life in these British Isles

Cultural vertigo, plus All-new featured Scottish word

"Fellow blogger Hadashi introduced me to this term, cultural vertigo, of which I am digging on. This is the feeling of which I blogged about so unsuccessfully in the last few entries. I like this cos it really did feel like a dizziness. Hadashi's husband is in the same boat as me, living in a culture outwith his own. It makes me wonder if this is his choosing -- if he had a chance, would he move back home?"

4. Sketchpad Cultural Vertigo blog posting

"Last Sunday we went over to the hotel to enjoy brunch, but it just wasn't the same. I felt totally uncomfortable, uneasy, irritated. I felt my blood pressure rising. The food was great, as usual. The staff was helpful and attentive. I knew something was wrong - my body kept trying to tell me something was wrong - but I just couldn't figure out what it was. Normally I would just brush it off - forget about it, but this had me worried. Our infrequent brunch treats mean a lot to us, and I didn't want to lose that. The rest of the day I kept replaying the brunch back, over and over again, in my head - trying to figure out the puzzle. What was wrong?"

Anyways . . . I think some people expect blogs to use standards of academic writing and research because the blog content is 'published'--the thing about that is that a blog is to a large degree an online journal or diary. For myself, and my own blog, my writing style, and the topics I sometimes engage with, can have an 'academic tone' and some of the readers of my blog are 'academics,' professors in Korea and overseas (Canada for example) and so on . . .

So for the sake of defining what I personally mean by "cultural vertigo," within the context and medium of my personal blog on the Net, it is this,

"cultural vertigo" is a combination of the physical sense of "vertigo" ('a dizzying sensation of tilting within stable surroundings or of being in tilting or spinning surroundings') within the context of a cultural experience in a foreign country/socio-cultural moment. Add the element of 'cognitive dissonance' to the definition and this is what I mean when I use the term.

So, in one sentence my own definintion of 'cultural vertigo' is "the mental and physical sensations of stable ideas, expectations, and assumptions being turned upside down and inside out, if not completely ruptured by an experience within a foreign culture to the point of having lost one's sense of equilibrium or equanimity"

Since this blog is not an academic paper or being written with the express intent of conveying academic info I'm not inclined to try to trace the etymology of the term 'cultural vertigo'--especially online . . .
____________________________________________________________

Arriving at the back of the room I saw this setup--and experienced one of the biggest culture shocks I've had in Korea so far.

This is where you're supposed to leave your paper cup after depositing your sample . . . some people might say, "What's the big deal?" And I'd reply, "Uhm, hygiene issues, bio-hazard issues, privacy and confidentiality issues . . . HELLO?!"

At this point I need to stress that I hadn't seen this kind of setup before in Korea when getting a medical check done. In the Incheon international medical clinic there was also a table like this but it was behind a counter inside a lab. A technician took my cup from me that time and put it in a semi-secure area out of the way of the general public . . .

After dealing with my cultural vertigo I waited for my name to be called to have my blood drawn. With about 20 Koreans watching me I got to walk up to the front and sit down in the chair where the nurse/technician drew my blood. I'm sure it was quite interesting to everyone sitting behind me with a clear view of everything that was being done.

I don't know a lot about the procedures for taking blood and what hygiene protocols are necessary but I suspect that not wearing latex gloves and cleaning the counter where dozens of patients' arms rest regularly are some of the things that would not pass an inspection by the WHO. I also had a moment of "OH MY GOD" when I saw a drop of blood on the counter below my arm while the tech was taking my blood . . . seriously, I really don't get how the facilities can be so modern and yet the methods . . . not.

As with every cultural perspective everything is relative. I'm sure people who live without the kind of medical care I've had my entire life would think I'm a complete idiot for even being bothered by something so trivial as a drop of blood, being watched by a group of people getting my blood drawn, etc.

I would respond by saying that EVERYBODY has something that triggers their sense of 'cultural vertigo,' their sense of this is not "normal" or this is not 'how things are supposed to be done' . . . and for me, medical stuff is one of those triggers . . .

Finishing the 2nd floor nightmare I was told to go up to the third floor for X-rays--but I didn't understand anything that was said to me in Korean other than 'go to the third floor' . . . so I went up to the next floor wondering what I would see next.

X-rays . . .

The X-ray technician was a nice guy who asked me if I spoke Korean IN KOREAN (the IRONY of asking this kills me every time, lol) and I said very little. He then proceeded to tell me in Korean that I needed to press my torso against the machine's screen, hold my arms behind my back, take a big deep breath, and hold it while he took the X-ray. I know that it's not realistic to expect Koreans to understand that the odds of an expat English native speaker knowing enough Korean language, and having a high enough level of listening ability to understand fluently and quickly spoken SPECIALIZED language for hospital X-ray situations to SLOW DOWN FOR THE FOREIGN GUY--but seriously, isn't that kind of intuitive?

Later on I had a conversation with my female coworker about the gendered differences in the medical check. I guess women are asked if they're single or in a relationship (meaning 'sexually active'). How being single means you are NOT having sex is highly amusing to me because of the number of assumptions that have to be made to reach that conclusion. I think if you say you're sexually active and/or you're in a relationship you then have to get a 'lower regions' exam done. I don't know if this applies across the board in all clinics and medical checks for foreign women in Korea but it's something to be aware of.

Women also may get a breast exam done, too. Guys, however, don't get the 'turn your head and cough' check, and they also are not asked to 'bend over' while the doctor puts on a rubber glove and . . . you fill in the rest.

It makes me grin like an idiot to think of how quickly a mass exodus of male foreign English teachers would take place if a prostate exam is added to the E2 Visa medical check--LOL!!!

Essentially, female foreign English teachers should be prepared to answer questions that would NEVER be asked back in our home countries, and possibly to do tests with a MALE doctor who may or may not speak English.

On the fourth floor I saw a wide range of diagnostic equipment set up along a wall out in the open . . . in the center of the room was a long line of chairs where people can sit and watch everything that is going on--meaning, watch the foreign guy get his medical check done.

Not sure what these things are as I didn't get tested with them . . .

I was told to stand on the two yellow feet painted on the floor. I then got my waist measured . . . the nurse didn't bother measuring my chest which I found amusing because they did the last time I had a medical check . . .

I then had my eyes tested. It was very weird. I had to look at the figure of an "E" on a computer screen while covering one of my eyes. It would change position (facing up, to either side, or down) and I had to point in the direction the figure was facing for the nurse.

I then stood on a digital scale and height measuring device--I was waiting for it to say my weight out loud with a volume high enough to carry down to the other floors of the building . . . but it didn't do that. I winced at my weight--yes, exercise and nutrition are something that need to be improved--and then got off the machine.

After being weighed and getting my height measured I got to get my blood pressure checked. I thought it was very funny to do the weight check BEFORE the blood pressure because I imagine that everybody, myself included, generally tends to feel anxious when being weighed in a room with several Koreans all watching you. Anxiety = stress = raised BPM and blood pressure . . . hmmmm, it's not really a good idea to make your patients feel anxious because of the test that is before the blood pressure station, is it?

Update

I got the results of my medical check back a couple days ago. I realized that I had not asked if they test for HIV or drugs (mandatory parts of the medical check that you must have done to get an E2 Visa in Korea). I asked the university secretary to call the clinic's office to confirm those two items hadn't been done--yep, not done.

Because I was a part of the group of university professors getting their medical checks done HIV and drugs were not on the list of things to be checked. The interesting assumption here being if you're a Korean and a professor that drugs and HIV don't need to be tested for--but if you're a foreign professor they do need to be tested for . . . methinks something about the policy has a rather biased ethnic perspective . . . which is putting it politely in order to avoid using the big "R-word" about this whole topic . . .

So I went and got this medical check done when I didn't need to do one because everyone else was doing it--and while it was free, I'll still have to go and pay for another medical check because HIV and drugs weren't tested . . .

. . . or will I?

This is where things get really interesting . . . I decided to ask the university secretary to call the immigration office to see if I could get a form in Korean language to take with me for my 3rd (sigh) medical check of 2008. While she was talking to the immigration officer I asked her to also confirm that I need a medical check with HIV and drug test, and a criminal background check/VSS for Canadians done . . .

The officer told the secretary that I do NOT need a medical check or a criminal background check done IF I am renewing my contract and E2 Visa with the SAME EMPLOYER as of December 16th.

I . . . blinked . . . picked my jaw up off the floor . . . and asked the secretary to confirm what she had just said.

I still couldn't believe it. The secretary handed me the phone saying that the officer could speak English (wow) and I asked the officer when the E2 Visa policy had changed. She repeated everything again . . .

I still couldn't believe it. Every Canadian English teacher in Korea that I know is going through HELL right now trying to do the bureaucratic nightmare paperwork in order to get a VSS criminal background check . . . and I had just been told I don't have to do it?

I told the immigration officer that I was having a hard time believing the policy had been changed. I told her that I was very very worried that when I go to the immigration office in January to renew my E2 Visa that I was concerned a different immigration officer would tell me a different interpretation of the application process and policy.

I asked her if the policy was on the immigration website--no. She told me that the best way to find out the current criteria for the E2 Visa policy was to call the immigration office . . .

I'm going to check again this coming week if the policy is the same as what I was told over the phone. I wonder if the secretary gets a different immigration officer on the phone if the information will change . . .

I also wonder how it's possible for the E2 Visa policy to be implemented so differently across an entire country. I suspect that because my employer is a national university of education that I am getting the least strict interpretation of the policy. I bet that hogwan foreign English teacher applicants have to have their DNA tested (not really, but it sounds so much more melodramatic, doesn't it?) along with a billion other items, public school teachers slightly less, and so on and so forth 'up' the ladder in terms of how different types of teachers are ranked socially in Korea in terms of status.

I'll write more about the E2 Visa renewal policy for out here once I find out that things have changed and that I wasn't just getting ONE officer's idea of how the policy is supposed to be done, and on another day with a different officer hearing something else . . .

J

Chinese Herbal Cough Medicine in South Korea vs. Buckleys--Which one do you think makes your face contort the most?

In South Korea getting North American medicine can be difficult. Julianne has a and cough and cold right now. She needed some cough medicine a couple of days ago so we went to the pharmacy and got some Chinese herbal cough medicine.

The taste is . . . 'unique.' I immediately thought of Buckley's cough syrup--and Julianne said, "What's Buckley's?" because she's from the US.

I convinced Julianne to let me film her taking a shot of the stuff . . .



You can see how gross the Chinese herbal (and the pharmacist assured us it's a very powerful and old formula) cough syrup is here.

So, now the question becomes which cough syrup produces the most facial contortions?



I leave the judgment to the masses . . . lol.

J

Things you can do when you're sick and at home on a Saturday night in Korea: Disney XXX

Julianne and I came down with the current cold bug making the rounds in the schools this past week.

Usually I pick up meds and other stuff that I can't find in Korean department stores and pharmacies in Seoul at Namdaemun Market . . . but I found Theraflu at the GS Mart in Chuncheon. It's not in the store itself but in the pharmacy that sits behind the cash checkouts.

Since this is an American product the online info is easy to find which is lucky for those of us who don't have high levels of Korean reading ability. The pharmacy put a Korean info label on the back . . .

If you're from Canada the equivalent of Theraflu is NeoCitran . . .

So instead of going to Seoul like we had planned we stayed home for the weekend. This was probably a good idea as Julianne's foot has not recovered from the Tenosynovitis she was diagnosed with about two weeks ago. She's still using crutches to get around though it has improved. We went for a second visit to a foot specialist and he said she can start trying to walk without the crutches when she feels ready. The foot doctor was very cool. Very friendly and his English was fantastic.

At least now her foot is in good enough condition that she doesn't have to do this when taking a shower,

Who knew that recycling/garbage bags could have so many uses? Lol . . .

Trying to find things to occupy our time, besides marathon napping, we remembered that Julianne had bought some Disney egg toy thingys at GS Mart . . .

So we spent some time setting the egg toy thingys up for some photos with my Canon SLR.

Did I mention a glass or two of wine might have been involved? Lol . . .

That's when things began to get interesting . . .

The toys cost 1, 000 won each . . .

I've never seen the Winnie the Pooh toys before . . .

What is squirrel-Pooh (ohhhhhh!) doing to dolphin-Pooh (hehehe)?

Okay boys . . . kenchenayo ("Calm down, please" in Korean).

Apparently you can take them out of the animal they sit inside . . .

Has anyone considered that Winnie the Pooh lives alone, isn't married, and primarily has all male friends . . . "his friends Piglet, a small toy pig, Eeyore, a toy donkey, Owl, a live owl, and Rabbit, a live rabbit."?

Hmmm . . .

Julianne wants to collect all 12 of the animal Pooh characters ("Did he just say 'animal poo'? LOL) . . . . so expect a few more posts in the future . . .

J

The Nurse Who Could Speak English -- Visit to Seoul National University Hospital International Foreigner Clinic

Later on Friday evening Julianne told me her throat was feeling really crappy. She had mentioned it a few times during the week, but it had gotten worse. We were near Insa-dong at the time so we walked over to the Tourist Information office there to find out where the nearest open hospital was on a national holiday in Korea.

The woman working in the office told us to go to Seoul National University Hospital to the International Foreign Clinic. I got her to write this on a piece of paper to show a taxi driver as I really didn't feel like trying to explain where I wanted to go with my limited Korean when Julianne was feeling crappy.

We get to the hospital, and walk into the main lobby. The main desk for the foreigner clinic was to the right of the foyer and we walked over to it.

I CAN'T BELIEVE I ASSUMED THAT THE HOSPITAL WOULD HAVE THEIR FOREIGN CLINIC STAFFED WITH A PERSON WHO COULD SPEAK ENGLISH--but I did.

When I saw two old Korean men sitting behind the desk my heart sank.

I still tried to be optimistic (NAIVE) about the whole situation and asked in English, "Do you speak English? We need to see a doctor."

The Korean man said nothing, and just got up from behind the desk and walked out of the office and around to where we were standing, and then past us while gesturing for us to follow him.

We walked about 15 meters through the hospital to what I think was the main admissions desk for the emergency department. The two younger men (probably late 20s or early 30s) sitting there looked at each other and did the "OH-SHIT!-I-don't-want-to-deal-with-the-foreigner/speak-English-face" . . .

I would rather have seen Jay and Silent Bob from "Clerks" behind the desk at this point . . . I seriously think they would have been more helpful--think about that for a moment, SILENT BOB . . . at least he GESTURES and uses FACIAL EXPRESSIONS to communicate . . .

After they sat there for a minute longer, and I waited for them to look up and say something (Korean or English, I didn't care) the younger one looked at me and said something in Korean that I didn't understand. I told him in English that Julianne needed to see a doctor.

After trying to use the simplest English possible the clerk gave up and dialed a translation service on his cell phone, and then handed the phone to Julianne.

The clerk then got a translation and handed Julianne some papers to fill out. He did have enough English to help her figure out where "name" and "phone" were on the forms.

He then took us through the doors that lead into the emergency room treatment area.

Ten feet inside we walked into three nurses and a male nurse (or doctor in a uniform I didn't recognize) standing at a computer station. They all did the typical "OH-SHIT!-I-don't-want-to-deal-with-you/speak-English-to-you" facial/body contortions, and began giggling nervously and speaking to each other in Korean. Then another nurse walked up (who they must have known speaks English) and they all ganged up on her telling her (I assume, since it was in Korean) to help the foreigners.

[As a serious side-note to this posting I truly wonder if Korean doctors-in-training (and nurses too) are given any kind of cross-cultural training. Worrying about 'loss of face' and feeling shame because your English is not as good as you want it to be is something I'd hope would be a secondary concern when an ill and/or injured foreign person walks into a hospital or clinic . . . sigh.]

Once they had convinced her to help us they all quickly disappeared in different directions.

So, the nurse who could speak English began talking to us and was very friendly. I was thrilled that she had spent time in America, and had really good English.

She asked Julianne to sit down on a chair in the middle of the main corridor of the emergency department about 10 feet from the main doors off of the waiting room area. I was not happy about it but told myself to keep quiet as I had never been in a hospital in Korea and had no idea what to expect (other than what I've heard from other foreign teachers).

The nurse began asking Julianne some questions about why she needed to see a doctor when two security guards began laughing at the nurse and teasing her about something in Korean (probably they were jealous that she could speak English fluently) while she was trying to do her job--I was furious with them but bit my tongue and kept quiet.

Their GROSS lack of professionalism and respect for the nurse, and for Julianne, evoked this particular image in my mind that will from now on replace those disrespectful guards . . .

After getting some info from Julianne (to tell the doctor I assume) the nurse led us into a room where there were FOUR doctors treating patients. Each doctor had a 5X6 foot area to work in--I was shocked.

The nurse left us with a VERY YOUNG LOOKING DOCTOR . . .

Unfortunately it was NOT Doogie Houser, M.D.

When our doctor saw Julianne and I walking towards him he looked like this,

After which he immediately got the "OH-SHIT!-I-don't-want-to-deal-with-you/speak-English-to-you" facial/body contortions, and began nervously smiling a lot . . . and our nurse WALKED AWAY . . . why she left us with a doctor who couldn't speak English . . . well, I'll leave that question to philosophers and existentialists . . . she really should have left us with the doctor sitting next to the one we were presented to--in fairness to her, it was a national holiday and they did seem very busy in the hospital.

Julianne and I tried to say a few very basic words and phrases to describe her problem to the doctor . . .

I did feel some sympathy for him but at the same time I was starting to get really frustrated with the fact that we had come to the hospital because it is advertised as a FOREIGN CLINIC in a flier that is at all Tourist Information Booths in Seoul--W_F???!

At this point I wonder if it would have been helpful if Julianne and I had turned into Snowths and began a rendition of "MAHNA MAHNA" . . .

Snowths

"Du doo du doo du"

"Two cowlike creatures called Snowths try to sing a jazzy song vocalizing "Du doo du doo du" while a wild eye creature, Mahna Mahna, keeps getting between them shouting his name and scatting to the Snowth's disapproval."

"MAHNA MAHNA" Video of Song from "Sesame Street"

http://ca.youtube.com/watch?v=YevYBsShxNs

The young doctor understood more English than he could speak--which is typical of 90+% of Koreans who have studied English. Julianne pointed to her throat and told him the basics. He proceeded to gouge her glands and sinuses with his thumbs pressing very hard--Julianne's face CONTORTED in PAIN and I again had to exercise an insane degree of self-control to prevent myself from saying and doing something I would regret later on.

After watching the doctor's diagnostic "skills" I was reminded of another doctor we all know,

After a minute or two of torment in what felt like eternity in a hell of of non-communication, with the doctor looking at the floor, looking at us, looking at the floor . . .

. . . the young doctor's friend in the 5X6 foot space next to us turned his stool and jumped into the silence to help out . . . THANK GOD!

The second doctor was very friendly. He asked us a few questions, and then took one of those wooden flat sticks doctors use to check the back of your throat and tonsils and used it on Julianne.

It was at this point I made the mistake of looking around the room. I noticed that the box he took the stick from was sitting OPEN with HALF OF THE STICKS sitting part of the way out of the box ONTO HIS DESK. I then saw the OPEN CAN OF POP sitting right next to the sticks.

It was then I realized that NEITHER DOCTOR HAD WASHED their HANDS before beginning to treat Julianne. When I realized there was no washing station or sink in their little areas I looked around the room. I saw the wash station ON THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM and cringed at how DIRTY the sink was.

This is what I was hoping to see . . .

Or this,

I felt a sense of horror for a moment and wondered what kind of illnesses, injuries . . . . DISEASES the two doctors had been treating other patients for before they put their hands on Julianne's face and stuck a stick into her mouth with their bare hands without washing them or putting on gloves . . .

The second doctor who spoke English, after asking Julianne a few questions, picked up some paper and drew us a picture of "tonsils" as if it was something that we'd have no idea about . . . I don't know how it is in Korean culture but "tonsils" are something that the vast majority of North Americans know the definition of . . . and where they are located in the throat.

After a few more minutes of explaining that he thought Julianne's tonsils were fine, but that he'd give her medication for the pain, and something to try and kill whatever was causing the inflammation and swollen condition of Julianne's throat, we were told to go to the waiting area and that the meds would arrive in about 15 minutes.

A different nurse brought the medications out to us. She didn't have a lot of English, but the little she did have was FANTASTIC!

I think the biggest challenge many Koreans have is to turn off the 'face saving' switch in their heads when speaking English so that the goals and needs of the situation they are in become the primary concern instead of being paralyzed by worrying incessantly about how they LOOK to themselves and the foreign English speakers they are talking to.

The nurse seemed to be able to do that--I was VERY IMPRESSED and happy with her effort.

And that's my first and HOPEFULLY LAST trip to a hospital in Korea for anything other than fulfilling the E2 Visa medical check requirements . . .

J