Chinese Hospitals

I've recently had some interesting medical experiences in Beijing. A few weeks ago, I discovered a small lump in my chest and, being the hypochondriac that I am, I decided to go to the hospital. I was pretty sure it was a cyst, but I wanted to get it checked out.

The first place I went to was recommended by my co-worker. My GF told me to call to make sure the hospital would be open when we went, but I didn't and, of course, the hospital is closed on weekends. It is a giant hospital.

The second place I went to was the China-Japan Hatred Hospital (or maybe it was the China-Japan Mutual Feelings of Distrust Hospital ... OK, it's the China-Japan Friendship Hospital.) This place is open on weekends, but they don't really have English speaking doctors, despite claims to the contrary. I went on a Sunday, walked out of the doc's office when it became obvious to me he didn't understand me or the word 'cyst', and made an appointment to come the next morning when the head internist was there.

So, next morning I went back, saw the English speaking head internist (she also didn't know what 'cyst' meant and had to look it up in her electronic dictionary) and she referred me to surgery. The surgery doc was about 900 years old and he called in another doc to translate (even though they both couldn't speak English.) My strategy was to pretend I didn't understand Chinese - I do many things here in Chinese, but I want to take care of my health in English. The 900 year old doctor began feeling my chest and talking about fatty deposits by my armpit. He asked the other doctor to feel. The other doctor felt. The first doctor said 'you see, you see'. The second doctor replied 'but ... I think it's muscle ... it's muscle, isn't it?' Then I walked out and told them that I was going to another hospital.

Hospital three was the Beijing Family Hospital, a haven of western medicine floating in a sea of chaotic Chinese yukkiness. My doctor there has a bedside manner (I forgot to mention that the internist, before referring me to the surgeon, told me I had a tumor in my breast), speaks English perfectly (he's Canadian), is spritual (which I think is important for a doctor) and, I think, actually studied medicine. Anyway, the upshot of this whole ordeal is I probably have an infection, and the antibiotics I'm taking now should make the nodule (much nicer sounding word) dissappear. Oh, the docs at Beijing Family also have a sense of humor. As part of my exam, I had a sonogram and the doc told me afterwards 'one thing I'm sure of ... you're not pregnant.'