A Visit to the Doctor and Milk

As we all know, winter is the season for sniffles, sneezes, and, in Ridge’s case, ear infections. With depressing regularity, it seems that each time Ridge hangs on to a stuffy head for more than a week or so, he ends up developing an ear infection. Such was the case on Friday morning.

Early on Friday, Ridge woke with the tell-tale, “OWW!” and accompanying ear-grasping that always hearkens an ear infection. We learned last year not to mess around, but to take him to the doctor immediately, as the pain generally worsens quickly. Of course, being in a strange country and needing to go to the doctor raises all kinds of questions. What if the clinic wasn’t open on Fridays? I didn’t know the hours. What if we ended up needing to go to Nayoro or Monbetsu, where there are hospitals? What kind of medicine could they give him? In Juneau, the doctor always gave us a pain killer that was to be put directly into Ridge’s ear, providing him with relief from the pain and us with relief from his very vocal misery. I felt sure that we would get no such medicine here. In Japan, even simple medicines such as aspirin or acetomenaphine are expensive and not at all common. There has been many a day when I have seen middle school students in obvious misery with a headache. Not once have I seen them take a pain killer. So, it was with a great amount of trepidation that I dressed and prepared for my day on Friday morning.

The previous night the middle school teachers held a party to celebrate the beginning of third term. In a mere 8 weeks they’re bound to have another party to celebrate the end of school. As per Japanese custom, two people drove the rest of the partygoers home so no one had to worry about drinking and driving. The party was at the school, about a twenty-minute walk from our house. It was easier, because of my schedule, to leave the car and take a ride home after the party, with the idea that I would walk to work in the morning.

My walk on Friday would take me, thankfully, past the clinic. I told Aaron I would call him upon arriving at work and let him know if the clinic was open, or if we would need to go to the city. It was early, not yet 8:00, when I walked past the clinic and was greeted by a woman just leaving. Confused, I asked her if the clinic opened, as the sign said, at 9:00. She confirmed this, and told me to go ahead and put my name on the list. Thank goodness I’ve learned enough Japanese that we could have the conversation, because she didn’t speak any English. So, though I don’t understand why the clinic was open (but not seeing patients), I went inside. Sure enough, there was the sign up sheet, beautifully blank. I put Ridge and Aaron down as first on the list.

At nine, I drove over from the middle school to meet Aaron. He and the boys were already there. Thankfully, Ridge was not in as much pain as he has been in before in similar situations. He and Holt were sitting on a raised platform topped with tatami mats watching TV. Keep in mind that as soon as we entered the clinic, we needed to remove our shoes and put on the slippers that are provided for indoor use. Well, Aaron didn’t. The way all the “public” slippers fit him is really comical. Usually, the back of the slipper reaches the middle of his foot, approximately. Anyway, I asked Aaron about paperwork and he said he had only needed to give the receptionist Ridge’s health card. We are covered by the National Health Insurance and the village and had been issued health cards within days of our arrival in Japan. About ten minutes after the hour, we were called back. Along with us, they called a woman who is an acquaintance of mine. She is also a pre-school mom and attends my Thursday morning English class. Apparently her 5-year old daughter had a cold. So, the seven of us (three adults and four kids) all trotted down the hallway into a large room. Inside the room were examine tables, which could apparently be divided from one another by curtains. Everything looked neat and clean, though there was an air of “oddness” about it. I chalked the strangeness up to the fact that we weren’t in America. The sick kids were weighed and measured. The healthy kids ran amok while the nurse grinned at their cuteness. The Felker family then stepped into another room with an exam table, a wall of book shelves, and a desk. Seated at the desk was the doctor, complete with what we might consider an old-fashioned lab coat. Even the nurse looked like she was straight from the early days of general hospital, with a stereotypical nurses hat perched on top of her perfect hair.

Aaron sat to talk to the doc, and the nurse cheerfully brought both boys suckers. The doctor speaks decent English, so I wasn’t too worried about communication. I first met him in September, so I was aware of his English ability. His wife regularly comes to my morning English lesson and helps me out a lot in the role of interpreter. They have three kids and one on the way. I don’t know how she does it!

After the usual interview regarding fever, etc (though no one took his temperature or otherwise checked his vitals), the doctor prepared to inspect Ridge’s ear. However, he didn’t use a lighted, magnifying tool that I am accustomed to seeing. Instead, he wore a band around his head with the largest reflector I have ever seen. You know the type; the big round metal disk with a hole in the middle? The nurse angled the light just so and he peered in. Then he took a wooden stick with some cotton the nurse wrapped around it and swabbed Ridge’s ear. It was all quite odd. The end result was the same, however. We were given a prescription for antibiotics. Despite explaining to him that we had pain killer we brought from the U.S., he also gave us a prescription for what amounted to Tylenol. I guess that’s how Japanese people get pain killers; they go to the doctor.

He explained how to take the medicine, how often, and sent us on our way. We waited back up front. After a very short time, we were called up. The receptionist, and what I guess was somebody like a pharmacist, gave us a bag with a couple of dozen small packets of orange power. In Japan, most medicine is in powder form. You mix it with water and drink it. We paid the bill – an amazing 1500 yen (that’s less than $15), and left. The clock read about 9:35. Even going to the doctor is a cultural experience. Ridge is doing much better and is handling the powdered medicine pretty well – so long as we mix in a tiny bit of Kool Aid!

That afternoon, I finished the day at the middle school. Usually, I finish my day at the shogakko, but my schedule was different today. Apparently, Friday afternoon was a “recreation day”, planned by the students. Kurata explained that once a year, the kids plan a fun activity for the whole school and they don’t have classes for the last hour of the day. Since I was present, I was able to join in an interesting game of “Ultimate Frisbee”. This game is similar to basket ball and soccer. The teams throw the Frisbee to teammates and are not allowed to walk/run with the Frisbee. To score a goal, someone must catch the Frisbee while standing in the goal area. It seems like a fun game. Now, try to picture playing this game in snow – about five inches worth! Needless to say, we weren’t moving very fast. After three rounds, the kids all played kick ball in the snow. That was really something to see!

When the games were done, we all returned inside to enjoy some hot chocolate. Hokkaido, and this area in particular, has a very large number of dairy farms. One middle school family lives on such a farm. Nami’s father gifted us with a huge pot (and I mean huge!) of fresh, raw milk, with which to make the hot chocolate. I was really excited to try raw milk. After making the hot chocolate, there was leftover milk. Apparently, word of my interest had gotten around, and the ladies making the chocolate poured the rest of the milk into a 2 liter plastic bottle for me to take home. I’m pretty sure the milk had been milked that morning. I was very excited to take it home Aaron. It was a real hit with him and Holt. I think Ridge decided it was too strange for him, but the rest of us thought it was wonderful. In fact, as of Sunday night, it’s all gone. Don’t worry, since the milk came from a small farm (instead of a huge factory farm), it was perfectly safe to drink even though it wasn’t pasteurized.

Sorry about no photos with today’s post. I’m going to bug Aaron to write a post about his and Ridge’s adventure with the onnis at the pre-school, and there are lots of good photos to go with that one. So, hang tight and I’ll post another entry soon.