Cho-sun medicine
As noted a couple posts back, I was involved in a minor car accident in Korea. My neck was mildly sore and pretty stiff the next day-- it often seems to happen that way, with a 1- or 2-day delay. I mentioned this to my Korean colleague by email, but waved it off as something that would heal soon.
Nonetheless, he showed up at the conference I was attending the next day, and told me he had filed an insurance claim that allowed the two of us to get X-rays to verify that nothing was amiss. I wasn't so sure I wanted to run off and do this, but he convinced me it was worth it, and we headed out to a nearby hospital.
At first I felt mildly annoyed to miss the last few talks of the conference (including a panel I was supposed to sit on), and then I felt a little scared about seeing a doctor in a foreign country where I couldn't communicate with him/her. And eventually that gave way to curiosity and interest. What will happen at a Korean hospital? This is certainly not a typical experience, so I set out to enjoy and learn from it.
The nearest health service place was a clinic about 2 miles from my hotel. We couldn't find it because it wasn't labeled very clearly, but eventually saw the entrance. Then there was the matter of parking-- there was none nearby, just crowded streets with catch-as-catch-can parking. We flagged down a woman in nursing garb on the sidewalk to ask where to park, and she pointed out that we couldn't see anyone at that time anyway, because they were closed for lunch from 12-1:30! (Emergencies would be seen).
So we headed out to a larger hospital, and ended up at Seran General Hospital. It was a bigger establishment that operated at all hours and had its own parking area. I was amused that there was a golf range above the parking lot. The lot was covered with a large green see-through tarp, and the balls were landing on it because people were hitting them off the second-floor balcony out onto the tarp! I guess that's one way to pass the time while your friend is in surgery or your wife is having a baby.
In the lobby, we took a number like at a deli counter. When it was our turn, my colleague explained that we were there on an insurance claim to have an X-ray. The nurse told us to fill out a form. So we went off to do that, and then took another number. After we were processed, we were directed to the ER. The check-in nurse took the forms, and told us to sit on a nearby gurney.
The ER had very little privacy. It resembled an army ward, with two rows of beds (really gurneys) separable only by curtains on two sides, and several of them weren't drawn. Pretty much everyone could see and hear what was going on with all the other patients. There were perhaps 4 patients there, ranging from an old man hooked up to an IV dripping yellow liquid into his wrist, to a young man who had perhaps been in a car accident (worse than ours). The old man was alone, and some other people had as many as 4 companions clustered around the gurney.
A doctor appeared to talk to us within minutes. He asked my guide to ask me where my neck hurt, and whether my back also hurt. The doctor, who was about 40, looked tired and aged beyond his years. And he didn't even look at me. He spoke only to my guide, and he didn't smile or show any animation. He jotted a few notes for the X-ray, then strode off.
We had to wait a few more minutes while the nurse called the insurance company to get a fax confirming that they would pay for the X-ray. It happened in real time. She made a phone call, and the fax rolled in about 5 minutes later. I was amazed at the speed of processing in all the places we encountered the hospital bureaucracy.
We traipsed off down the hall the to radiology department and gave them our forms. There was no one there but us, so we went right in with the technician. My guide went first and emerged 3 minutes later. He said I needed to take off my shirt, and the tech showed me a small changing room that included a hospital gown and slippers. I suppose it was the same gown everyone before me had used.
I stripped down, and wondered briefly how to put the gown on. In the US, the gown goes on with the opening in the back, but this seemed more like a standard bathrobe style. I opted to put it on like a bathrobe, although it still wasn't totally clear that that was correct. I sort of held it closed since the ties were awkward. When I came out of the dressing room, the tech motioned with hand signals to remove my earrings and glasses also. Then he positioned me standing in front of the film and took a mugshot of X-rays-- one from the front, one from the left side. I thanked him (it's the only word I can say in Korean). He clearly didn't speak English, and it seemed I was just another body to him.
Back in the ER, our films arrived along with the same doctor again, about 3 minutes later. He put them up on the light board and fiddled with the contrast. As always, I found it eerie and fascinating to glimpse my own skeleton. (I'm skinny enough to see parts of it all the time from the outside, but the inside view is different and weirdly compelling). Neck bones look so delicate with their interlocking parts! Like they shouldn't be trusted to support the weightiness of the head. And yet they do a fine job.
The doctor declared us normal. And that was that.
Total elapsed time from walking in the front door: 45 minutes.
During our stay, I had noticed a few sights, really just disconnected images because I was trying to take in so much at once. A recall seeing a woman with a foot cast hopping down the hall. Not sure why she had no crutches or wheelchair. And in the front lobby, a group of people walked in off the street, with two members in hospital gowns, one in a full neck brace! It was as if they had been dressed and treated at home or at an accident scene, and then had come by their own transportation to the hospital. Or perhaps the patients were staying at the hospital, but were well enough to get up, and the people in the group had taken them out for lunch.
In foreign countries, you learn to suspend judgment about what makes sense, because much of what we think "makes sense" is really just habit or convention or the "way we do things" in the US. There are, in fact, lots of other ways to do things that work just as well.
I took the opportunity to ask my Korean guide how health care works in Korea. It seems that there is a national insurance plan that everyone buys, which allows you to go to any hospital at any time. But all the hospitals are private and for-profit; none are state-run. So it's some combination of public and private, "universal health care" and capitalist competition.
I recalled that on my first trip to Korea, I heard that many people come to Seoul from the countryside for medical treatment because it is supposed to be really good in Seoul. (And this has spawned a large industry of shadier medicine also, peddlers on street corners claiming to have vital tonics and the like). Now I have experienced the Seoul medical system, and at least in my case, I have to concur. The system worked really well bureaucratically. I can't speak to the medical care itself since there really wasn't anything wrong with us, but the machines were modern, the place was clean and organized... it all looked good.
Not the usual view of a country I get on business trips!
Nonetheless, he showed up at the conference I was attending the next day, and told me he had filed an insurance claim that allowed the two of us to get X-rays to verify that nothing was amiss. I wasn't so sure I wanted to run off and do this, but he convinced me it was worth it, and we headed out to a nearby hospital.
At first I felt mildly annoyed to miss the last few talks of the conference (including a panel I was supposed to sit on), and then I felt a little scared about seeing a doctor in a foreign country where I couldn't communicate with him/her. And eventually that gave way to curiosity and interest. What will happen at a Korean hospital? This is certainly not a typical experience, so I set out to enjoy and learn from it.
The nearest health service place was a clinic about 2 miles from my hotel. We couldn't find it because it wasn't labeled very clearly, but eventually saw the entrance. Then there was the matter of parking-- there was none nearby, just crowded streets with catch-as-catch-can parking. We flagged down a woman in nursing garb on the sidewalk to ask where to park, and she pointed out that we couldn't see anyone at that time anyway, because they were closed for lunch from 12-1:30! (Emergencies would be seen).
So we headed out to a larger hospital, and ended up at Seran General Hospital. It was a bigger establishment that operated at all hours and had its own parking area. I was amused that there was a golf range above the parking lot. The lot was covered with a large green see-through tarp, and the balls were landing on it because people were hitting them off the second-floor balcony out onto the tarp! I guess that's one way to pass the time while your friend is in surgery or your wife is having a baby.
In the lobby, we took a number like at a deli counter. When it was our turn, my colleague explained that we were there on an insurance claim to have an X-ray. The nurse told us to fill out a form. So we went off to do that, and then took another number. After we were processed, we were directed to the ER. The check-in nurse took the forms, and told us to sit on a nearby gurney.
The ER had very little privacy. It resembled an army ward, with two rows of beds (really gurneys) separable only by curtains on two sides, and several of them weren't drawn. Pretty much everyone could see and hear what was going on with all the other patients. There were perhaps 4 patients there, ranging from an old man hooked up to an IV dripping yellow liquid into his wrist, to a young man who had perhaps been in a car accident (worse than ours). The old man was alone, and some other people had as many as 4 companions clustered around the gurney.
A doctor appeared to talk to us within minutes. He asked my guide to ask me where my neck hurt, and whether my back also hurt. The doctor, who was about 40, looked tired and aged beyond his years. And he didn't even look at me. He spoke only to my guide, and he didn't smile or show any animation. He jotted a few notes for the X-ray, then strode off.
We had to wait a few more minutes while the nurse called the insurance company to get a fax confirming that they would pay for the X-ray. It happened in real time. She made a phone call, and the fax rolled in about 5 minutes later. I was amazed at the speed of processing in all the places we encountered the hospital bureaucracy.
We traipsed off down the hall the to radiology department and gave them our forms. There was no one there but us, so we went right in with the technician. My guide went first and emerged 3 minutes later. He said I needed to take off my shirt, and the tech showed me a small changing room that included a hospital gown and slippers. I suppose it was the same gown everyone before me had used.
I stripped down, and wondered briefly how to put the gown on. In the US, the gown goes on with the opening in the back, but this seemed more like a standard bathrobe style. I opted to put it on like a bathrobe, although it still wasn't totally clear that that was correct. I sort of held it closed since the ties were awkward. When I came out of the dressing room, the tech motioned with hand signals to remove my earrings and glasses also. Then he positioned me standing in front of the film and took a mugshot of X-rays-- one from the front, one from the left side. I thanked him (it's the only word I can say in Korean). He clearly didn't speak English, and it seemed I was just another body to him.
Back in the ER, our films arrived along with the same doctor again, about 3 minutes later. He put them up on the light board and fiddled with the contrast. As always, I found it eerie and fascinating to glimpse my own skeleton. (I'm skinny enough to see parts of it all the time from the outside, but the inside view is different and weirdly compelling). Neck bones look so delicate with their interlocking parts! Like they shouldn't be trusted to support the weightiness of the head. And yet they do a fine job.
The doctor declared us normal. And that was that.
Total elapsed time from walking in the front door: 45 minutes.
During our stay, I had noticed a few sights, really just disconnected images because I was trying to take in so much at once. A recall seeing a woman with a foot cast hopping down the hall. Not sure why she had no crutches or wheelchair. And in the front lobby, a group of people walked in off the street, with two members in hospital gowns, one in a full neck brace! It was as if they had been dressed and treated at home or at an accident scene, and then had come by their own transportation to the hospital. Or perhaps the patients were staying at the hospital, but were well enough to get up, and the people in the group had taken them out for lunch.
In foreign countries, you learn to suspend judgment about what makes sense, because much of what we think "makes sense" is really just habit or convention or the "way we do things" in the US. There are, in fact, lots of other ways to do things that work just as well.
I took the opportunity to ask my Korean guide how health care works in Korea. It seems that there is a national insurance plan that everyone buys, which allows you to go to any hospital at any time. But all the hospitals are private and for-profit; none are state-run. So it's some combination of public and private, "universal health care" and capitalist competition.
I recalled that on my first trip to Korea, I heard that many people come to Seoul from the countryside for medical treatment because it is supposed to be really good in Seoul. (And this has spawned a large industry of shadier medicine also, peddlers on street corners claiming to have vital tonics and the like). Now I have experienced the Seoul medical system, and at least in my case, I have to concur. The system worked really well bureaucratically. I can't speak to the medical care itself since there really wasn't anything wrong with us, but the machines were modern, the place was clean and organized... it all looked good.
Not the usual view of a country I get on business trips!
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