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Adventures in a Korean Hospital
by Bill Boswell
The pain started on January 2nd, a Thursday. A dull ache in the left knee forecast the impending battle with a vengeful gout attack. For the past thirty years or so I have cowered before this insidious disease that has robbed me of several days of my life at each visit. It was bad enough when I was on my own turf and could call for help from a knowing doctor and a friendly pharmacist, but now I was in South Korea -- no doctor, no pharmacist and no speaka da Korean.
I decided to fight it on my own and called the school to inform them that I would be unavailable until the following Monday. I took two Advil and went to bed. Later that afternoon I sent my flatmate, Donald, to visit several of the local pharmacies in hopes they would part with some anti-inflamatory drugs. But since I didn’t have a doctor locally, they wouldn’t help.
The dull ache became a full grown pain and spread to my left elbow and then to my right elbow and right knee. By Sunday morning I couldn’t stand, much less walk. It was obvious I didn’t have the ammunition to fight and win this battle so I gave up and called the Korean version of 911 which is 119.
An ambulance arrived about 3 pm and three short but burly attendants literally carried me from my apartment to the ambulance. All of the neighborhood came out to watch the show. I expected applause to break out at any minute, but they observed the solemnity of the occasion and whispered quietly about the old man who lives on the first floor.
Off we sped to the nearest hospital emergency room where I underwent the usual temperature and blood pressure checks. After an hour wait, I was informed the hospital didn’t treat my type of problem, but they would make arrangements to have me moved by another ambulance to a hospital that specialized in these problems.
After a thirty minute wait, we were again on our way across Seoul to the Hanyang University Medical Center. Traffic was heavy and the trip lasted for over an hour. Another emergency, another temperature and blood pressure check, both of which, I am sure, were higher than the previous ones.
Finally, a little after 9 pm I was admitted and moved into a four patient ward. Supper had already been served long before, so I was destined to go hungry that first night.
They searched all over the hospital to find pajamas large enough for me. Thanks to elastic and a nurse that could move buttons, they finally had me dressed appropriately and in bed with a saline and pain killer drip going.
The next morning I discovered that Korean hospitals don’t serve breakfast until eight o'clock, and what a breakfast! A bowl of rice, a bowl of soup, a piece of tofu with hot sauce and some kim chi. (Read fermented cabbage.)
After breakfast my one roommate and I were joined by two other gentlemen. All of us had knee problems, but only one of us was non-Korean.
They soon whisked me away to x-ray even though they had taken a dozen or more in the emergency room before I was admitted. The nurses couldn’t lift me from the bed to the gurney so I finally suggested a wheelchair which they happily agreed to. After x-ray there was more blood letting and various samples, the source of which I will not dwell on.
Lunch was served, a bowl of rice, a different kind of soup, a piece of bony fish, a bowl of cut up celery in cool water and kim chi.
My roommates were very accommodating and generous to a fault. Two of the wives stayed at the hospital all day, the third came after she finished work each day. One stayed there at night also, sleeping on a cot beside her husband's bed. These ladies kept us supplied with supplemental food. They always shared. Nothing was brought out without it being passed around to everyone. I informed them that I had always understood that you lost weight when in the hospital, but I really couldn’t see that happening with their bringing all that extra food .
Did they understand a word I was saying? No, but they knew it was supposed to be funny and they laughed dutifully.
The nurses spoke very little English, but we managed to communicate with a few words and a lot of sign language. The doctors, however, spoke very good English and gave the impression they knew exactly what they were doing.
Someone from the business office came up to talk to me. I assume he was concerned about whether I could pay the bill. When we couldn’t communicate, he left and came back later with one of his colleagues who spoke very good English. This gentleman made it a point to come to the room every morning and evening to make sure everything was going all right, and when checkout time came, he waltzed me through the process sans lines and misunderstandings.
Later Monday afternoon I asked about a shower and was shown where the shower room was located down the hall. I was provided a towel the size of a dish towel and wheeled to the shower room door from whence I was on my own. Shortly I was back in my bed, still pretty damp, but ready to tackle my supper of a bowl of rice, a different soup, three bites of beef strips, a cup of chopped lettuce in cool water and, yep, kim chi.
This became a daily routine. For thirteen straight meals I ate a bowl of rice and a bowl of some kind of vegetable soup (cabbage, corn, seaweed, some kind of greens, onion or potato) a meat side dish, a raw vegetable and kim chi.
I went all over the hospital having tests run, and I didn’t see another foreigner in the whole hospital. I was pampered by the nurses, my roommates and their wives and Mr. Kim, my friend from the business office.
Donald made several trips to the hospital to bring me things I needed. The coordinator of teachers came by and visited for over an hour. Several of my fellow teachers called and chatted on the phone, keeping me abreast of what was going on at the school, and two groups of my friends from the English Café came by to visit, bringing cartons of drinks so that I was able to share with my roommates in return for their generosity.
My students found out I was in the hospital when one of the nurses who went on a weekend trip with a group of us saw me and posted the fact that I was hospitalized on the Café’s website.
I really hated to leave when it was time to check out on Friday. The false impression that Koreans are unfriendly had once again been proven untrue. There have also been stories that circulate among the foreigners that Korean healthcare is poor and that the facilities are unclean. I certainly can’t speak for all situations, but I don’t believe I could have been better cared for anywhere.
If you ever get sick in South Korea, have them take you to Hanyang University Medical Center.
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Mississippi native, Bill Boswell, retired CPA and world traveler, set out for his English-teaching adventure in the fall of 2001. In his early 60s, Bill exudes southern vim, vigor, and zest for life. Write him at this e-mail address.
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