My adventure with tonsillitis in Japan!

This has been an interesting week. I think I’m allergic to MSG, based on some incidents I’ve had in the past with Chinese food (that, or some other chemical in Asian food). Regardless, I got a dish from the cafeteria a week ago Thursday and felt pretty bad afterword. I lost my appetite and just felt cruddy. Well, it was then that my immune system said, “NOW’S OUR CHANCE,” and decided to force me to take a break. By contracting tonsillitis.

I really didn’t feel tired, but was coughing quite a lot, and then finally, about a week after the cafeteria incident, my voice started to sound like it was coming out of a gramophone. And then it disappeared completely. This has been fun, considering that there are already communication issues. Before you get alarmed, I did go to a doctor, but hold on.

Through this experience, I have learned that Japanese people (well, I’m basing this on the five-year-old, really) are terrible at guessing charades. Let me tell you, I can do some charades. I can do them all day and I will win. And this girl just cannot guess what I’m trying to say. One fatal flaw in this communication farce is that they don’t understand that one finger up means, “wait a minute,” or, “just a second,” a gesture I reckon we’ve all taken for granted. But after a meal, I smiled and rubbed my tummy to say, “The food was good,” and she goes, “Your stomach hurts?” I mean, I ask you.

I have to say, though: people here are just so nice and unbelievably thoughtful that I can’t even stand it sometimes. The older host sister, made me little packets of cards that have essential phrases on them since I can’t talk. I am proud to say that “nan de ya nen,” an essential Osaka phrase, made it on the list. I’ll have to explain this another time. Part of what’s so overwhelming about this kind treatment is that they make little pomp or circumstance of it. The Japanese don’t tend to like drawing attention to themselves, so they just do things quietly, silently. My host sister didn’t say, “I made these for you,” she just said, “Here,” and when I tried to give them back (didn’t want to assume), she just said, “I’m giving them to you.”

The Japanese version of “I love you,” is known as something that only the rarest of couples say to each other (in strict moderation), or something you finally say at someone’s death bed. They think it’s weird how much we use the verb, and instead show their love through these kinds of gestures. It may not read so warm and fuzzy on paper, but I can say from experience that ya feel it!!!!! The people here are so welcoming to and nurturing of foreigners.

Switching back to tonsillitis here (which I’m just delighted to facilitate for you), it means that I had my first Japanese doctor experience. My host mom has really taken the “mom away from home” thing to heart, and bless her for it. She has been a rock star. She took me to a nearby doctor’s office with the five-year-old before kindergarten the other day. We signed up at 8:30 for an appointment and were seen shortly after they officially opened at 9. Apparently, the doctor doesn’t come to see you in your own room here (at least, at this office)—you go to see him. He asks if I understand Japanese, and the mom cautions him to maybe speak slowly. We go through the, “What hurts,” “Can you eat,” song and dance, and then he takes one look at my throat and it was all over. I think I’m understanding everything he’s saying as he goes on about giving me medicine and so forth, and then he asks if I have any questions. I go, “So it’s just a normal cold?”

And then, in perfect English, he goes, “You have tonsillitis. I’m going to give you some antibiotics.”

This would be the point where I do this Osaka reaction to something surprising or ridiculous where you just fall over.

I don't know what I was more shocked at--that I had tonsillitis or that he was patient enough to speak to me in English, despite being fluent in Japanese! What's up, Doc! This was not exactly the most metropolitan area.

So, I guess there's hope for those of you who don't speak much Japanese. English-speaking doctors might not be so uncommon!

Have you had an experience getting medical attention as a foreigner? Please share your story in the comments.

Another voiceless escapade:

The doorbell rings on Saturday evening while my family was out of the house, and I go down, thinking it’s them—the kids often ring the bell instead of waiting for the ‘rents to come unlock it. Well, it turns out it’s a delivery person. I open the door as he’s grabbing a box from the van, and when he turns back, he sees me. His eyes widen, his mouth becomes a perfect O—you would not believe the look of unmasked shock on this guy’s face (Japanese can be pretty good at concealing this sort of stuff—unless under extreme circumstances). Though not to his level, I was also pretty surprised that I was able to get out the words, “I’ve got a cold so… (I can’t really talk).” And then, despite my perfect Japanese sentence, he does this big mime with the pen and goes, “Sign…?” I swear, sometimes I think if a badger went around speaking Japanese here, no one would notice.

Well, till next time!
Morgan