Chinese Medicine

After the high fever, my sickness progressed into a sharp headache which just wouldn't go away. By God's grace, Dave's work load was low on Thursday and Friday so he took the days to work from home. Between a sick mom, a working dad and an ayi we managed to keep the household running pretty smoothly. But by Sunday afternoon, I had had enough of feeling sick. I sucked it up, and went to the doctor.

We live quite near Shanghai East Hospital. I had heard that first rate doctors work inside the hospital, but had never summoned the courage to try their facilities. Before, I also went to the doctor for the girls. We always stuck with what worked - the overpriced, low-quality offerings at the expat clinic run by Parkway Health. On my own, I was looking for quick so I decided to try the hospital. Dave made the appointment and sent me on my way.

Our driver took me. Our driver speaks no English - not one word. I take that back - I have inadvertently taught him Okay, Sorry and Grocery Store. But he is infinitely helpful and thoughtful. He drove me to the hospital, and insisted I get out at the Outpatient Door. He had read the signs in Chinese, and it was clear to him that I was in the right place.

If it was clear to Michael, it must be right, I supposed. So I got out, carrying my pounding headache along with me. I walked into the outpatient lobby of the hospital, and immediately felt like turning back around. The large room was dimly lit, noisy and crowded with people milling in random directions. The cashiers had bars on their windows, making them resemble banks from over 50 years ago. The tiled floors were cracked and dirty. There was no natural light. It did not feel like a healthy place. And I had no idea where to go.

Luckily, the directional signs were bilingual. I noted the VIP Center. I had heard a friend talk about taking her son to the VIP Center for stitches. That's got to be the place. I made my way through the crowds, successfully asked for directions in Chinese once, and finally found myself walking down a long hallway toward the VIP Center. The hallway felt grim, and smelled of smoke and old buildings. It did not smell hygienic, or anything like a doctor's office. I felt like I was about to cry.

I reached the doors to the VIP Center, opened them, and felt like I had stepped into another world. The tiles changed, from dirty and chipped to new, bright and smooth. The chairs looked comfortable, the lighting was bright and cheerful. This looked like a regular doctor's office in America. I felt like I could breathe again.

Let's pause here for a moment to wonder about the VIP Center. Who, exactly, are the VIPs? Apparently I am one - I could have been seen in this clinic. But what kind of policy is it for a hospital to separate its patients into those Very Important Patients worth a Western standard of cleanliness and care, and those other patients only worth substandard care at best? China offers healthcare to all of its citizens, although it is a far cry from the comprehensive health care offered by countries like Australia and New Zealand. Still, I must assume that the VIP Center is for those outside of the national healthcare. And what a striking assumption! That the Very Important People in China are those carrying foreign passports! But so it seems, at the hospital.

Back to the story.

I pulled myself together, walked up to the desk, and told the nice ladies sitting behind the counter that I had an appointment this afternoon.

No, you don't, they pertly replied.

I was dumbfounded. They hadn't asked my name. They hadn't looked in their computer. A sign stood on the counter requiring people to have appointments. How could they know?

Me: Um, yeah, I'm pretty sure I have an appointment.

Pert Nurses: No, we haven't taken any calls in quite a while.

Me: Hmm. Still, I'm pretty sure I have an appointment. Would you just check, maybe?

Pert Nurses: No, we're quite sure you don't. No calls today.

Me: My husband called this morning to make an appointment. I am quite sure I have an appointment.

At this point, I was beginning to feel desperate. I wasn't sure what else to say, besides Please don't make me go back out there into that dingy, gross, unpleasant hospital. Please, I really want to be a Very Important Person here! Tears were stinging my eyes.

Pert Nurses: Maybe you have an appointment down the hall. (My heart jerked with fear.) We will call them for you.

They called.

Apparently, I did have an appointment down the hall.

I was being sent away from the VIP Ward.

Pert Nurses: Just go outside, and walk to the next entrance.

I walked outside, and immediately burst into tears. This was much more challenging than I had imagined. I called Dave.

Me: (Bawling) Are you sure you made the appointment in the right place?

Dave: (Remarkably calm) Yes, I'm sure.

Me: (Still bawling) Because they just sent me away from the VIP Ward, and they're making me walk outside to something else and I don't know what it is but I've never heard of it and I just don't think it seems like a very good idea.

Dave: (Just as remarkably calm) Don't worry. I called the Medical Center, where everyone speaks English. You're going to the right place.

Me: (Yes, still bawling) But is it going to be really gross?

Dave: (Cool as a cucumber) No, it will not be gross at all.

I pulled myself together again, and walked inside Shanghai East International Medical Center. To my surprise, it wasn't scary or gross at all. The woman at the desk knew right who I was, gave me a nice form to fill out, and then sent me immediately back to a rather grandfatherly British gentleman who gave me some nice, strong drugs to clear that headache right away.

Apparently Shanghai East Hospital is simply a hospital in the Chinese system - which honestly, I know absolutely nothing about. The only thing I know is that I am grateful not to ever need to use the local system. It seems that the VIP Ward is part of Shanghai East Hospital. I know that they speak English there, and that they direct-bill my health insurance. Presumably, this is the portion of the hospital that meets Western standards and caters to foreigners.

Shanghai East International Medical Center seems to be its own little mini-hospital, backing onto the same building as Shanghai East Hospital. The whole thing is a bit confusing, really. Especially if you enter on the south side of the building.

I walked away feeling fine with my treatment, happy with my very strong drugs, and thrilled that although I may not have been a VIP that day, at least I wasn't treated like a local. Those poor locals.