Recently, I was ill and suffering from a fever. My boss patted me on the shoulder and remarked that I’d actually lost weight, so you know it was bad.
As I’d taken a day off work, I was pretty much forced to go to the doctor. My company told me that the nearest one was a fifteen minute walk away and, while they didn’t take appointments, they would be expecting me.
As I got to the reception, I wondered what I was supposed to say. What I wanted to say was that my boss had told them I would be coming although I realised they didn’t do appointments and I was just getting over the flu. In the end, I managed to choke out, “I-internal medicine?” They immediately recognised that I was the foreigner they were looking for and confirmed that ‘my friend’ had rung ahead.
First of all, we had to sort out insurance. They looked at my documents and tried to decide if it would cover it or not. Then they took my ID card and wrote down the number. In less than five minutes I had my consultation.
The very first time I was ill in Japan, I worked for a massive eikaiwa (private English conversation school) who gave me a list of doctors who spoke English in Central Tokyo. I didn’t live in Central Tokyo at that time and remember being dragged through Ueno Park in order to make it to the clinic before it closed for lunch.
When I got there, I had to fill out a form and show them where my country was in an atlas. Then they shoved a 15 centimetre long stick up my nose to check for flu. I remember it well. For my first visit, I appreciated that they were used to dealing with foreigners since I had no idea of the system in place. The idea that you can just walk into any clinic you want and ask them to treat you based on their speciality still seems strange to me.
Another one I went to last year was The British Clinic in Ebisu. The doctor there is a genuine English doctor and the waiting room is filled with magazines about life in the British countryside. On the positive side, this clinic is brilliant if you have a complicated problem that you want handled with a good bedside manner. They also don’t over-prescribe. On the other hand, it’s expensive and they have a very British attitude towards colds. That is, take the day off work and deal with it.
So, anyway, I was at the nearest clinic to my home and they threatened to shove the 15 centimetre long stick up my nose again. They were very nice when I refused though and took my temperature and heartbeat instead. Afterwards, I paid and crossed the road to the pharmacist who asked me about my allergies and current medication (none) and I received three days worth of pills.
And that medicine? Remember that I’d lost weight because I’d eaten so little over the course of three days? Since I took it on an almost empty stomach, it gave me incredible hallucinations that night, with shining balls of light and spaceships flying past my bed. I finally understood what the deal was with the sixties.
