Sunday, July 23, 2017

Adventures in Healthcare: Thyroidectomy, part 3: Admission

Had to take a few days break from all this writing.  Reliving all this is exhausting.

Anyway, the next stop in the adventure is being admitted to the hospital.

I got an email from the International Clinic that I would be contacted by the hospital on Saturday around noon with instructions for me so I can admit.  So, Saturday morning I had to rush around and get to and home from the market before noon so I am home and not distracted from what the nurse has to say.  I wake up early and run to get the last few things I needed for my recovery time...and proceed to have a small, crying nervous-breakdown in the store because they don't have my flavor mouthwash.  Yes, at this point in my life I am THAT stressed and emotional.

Anyway, I pull myself together, get checked out, and get my stuff home.



So, it's a little after noon when the hospital finally calls.  The nurse asks if she can speak in Korean and I have to say no.  Come on, even if I had studied Korean diligently for all three years I have been here (I will buckle down and seriously study sporadically), I wouldn't be able to do hospital admissions and medical stuff in Korean.  So, she says she'll call me back and hangs up.  I wait...and wait...and wait...

Ok, it's getting late, and there are a few things I still wanted to do before I was stuck in the hospital, but still they haven't called back.  I'm exhausted...and have been for ages...so I decide everything else will just have to wait until I get home and I stay in and wait for the call.

Around 5 that evening I get a text, in English, with bare-bones information about where I need to go and what I need to do to admit.  Cool beans.  I check in at the cancer hospital and have to pay a deposit of 2.5 million won (roughly $2000)...and short of hospital clothes and bedding I will need to bring all my own stuff...i.e., shampoo, soap, water bottle, tissues...TISSUES!  I mean, how much would having tissues provided possibly add to my hospital bill.  Since I'm looking at 4-5 days in the hospital and nothing but time, I end up packing a full backpack of stuff to read, do, study, and otherwise keep myself entertained plus a large tote bag of essentials.  But the good news is that the cancer hospital is right across the street from my bus stop, so I'm thinking "at least I don't have to carry it far."

Oh, how wrong can a girl be?

I get to the hospital around 1:30 PM on Sunday.  I'm a little early (my check-in time is 2pm), but I'm a early birdie and know it will take time so I go on up to the admissions desk.  The lady doesn't speak English.  Ok, fair enough, this is Korea, after all...but the forms are all in Korean too.  After much sign language, Konglish, and Google Translate, I manage to get myself admitted.  Then she tells me I have to go to another building....and I have no idea which one.  She pointed vaguely behind her...which is where about 75% of the hospital buildings are.

Sigh....ok, then...I get my stuff and decide the information desk in the main hospital building the the place to go.  This is a big international hospital, surely the person there speaks enough English to point me in the right direction.

NO.

I give the guy the help desk my forms and he stares at me blankly.  He's a younger guy, so I foolishly think, "he'll have enough English to help me."  Nah-uh.  I manage a "Odi?" (Where) and he tells me (in Korean) I need to go to the second floor.  See?  I do know enough to get through a regular situation.

So, I go up to the second floor and there's another admission desk, so I think, oh, this guy will know if I'm supposed to be here.  It's an older guy, but at this point I'm feeling pretty confident I'm in more or less the right place.  Nope.  He makes me wait while he chats with other patients and visitors and finally looks at my forms, gives me the "deer in the headlights look" and waves me away.  Damn it.  But there happens to be another information desk so, I go to ask there.  This guys is young-ish, looks to be somewhere between he ages of the first two, but I am rapidly losing hope and energy....my bags are starting to get heavy and I can feel the tears starting well up again.

But, miracle of miracles, this guy speaks English.  He looks at my forms, realizes I have a "foreign" name and tells me (in decent English) I'm in the wrong building.  I need to be in the Children's Hospital.  He's not sure where exactly the ward I need to be in is, but the help desk in the Children's Hospital will be able to get me the rest of the way.  Then he says if I go to the third floor I can use the walkway connecting the buildings.

That's really nice, and helpful, but I don't know where the walkway is, but I do know where the front door is, and I'd like to use that to cut down on the frustration.  I'm really tired and rapidly losing my enthusiasm for this whole endeavor.  I'm starting to wonder if I can't Swiss Army knife this thing out of my body on my own.

In the Children's Hospital, I stop at the main desk and once again hand over my papers.  The guy looks at me a little funny, but miracle of miracles he does ask in English why I am at this building.  I told him the other guy wasn't sure exactly where I needed to be, but knew it was in THIS building.  Okey-dokey.  I'm in the right building but the wrong wing, but he gives me instructions and sends me on my way.

I have another little cry while waiting on the elevator, because I am so tired and frustrated.  It is hot and humid as heck, it's been an hour and half since I set out, and my bags feel REALLY heavy now...not to mention how stressed and anxious I am about the actual surgery.

Finally in the right wing.  The nurse doesn't speak much English, but she takes my paperwork and shows me to my bed in the ward.  She tells me to change clothes and wait.  Well, where am I going at this point?  But I wait.  A different nurse comes to see me and she has awesome English.  She gets me  properly admitted, takes my vitals, and explains the hospital stay procedure to me.  So I can go back to my bed and settle in.  The ward doctor will come introduce himself and my surgeon will come by in the morning.

Yes, these are some stylin' hospital jammies!


The ward doctor comes by, he's anxious because he's worried about explaining things in English, but he's actually really good.  And at any rate, at this point in time I will sign anything and let them do almost anything to avoid verbal communication.

Next time, I'll talk about what it's like in a Korean hospital ward.


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