All Hepped Up
Today I had my first experience with the Japanese medical system, and I have to say it wasn't that bad. No horror stories about nationalized medicine to be found here. But plenty of differences from America, that's for sure.
This all started because I needed to get some shots to travel overseas. I'm going to Korea this summer and possibly Vietnam in the fall, and I have no desire to bring Hepatitis-A back as a souvenir. I wish I had had the foresight to be inoculated back in the States but Hep-A isn't a problem in Japan, so I didn't see the need. Oh well.
I asked a Japanese friend in town who often travels where she gets her shots. She travels without inoculation(!) but inquired for me in town. Turns out travel shots are only available at one hospital, which is in Beppu, a 15-minute train ride up the coast, every other Tuesday from 1 to 4pm. I quickly made an appointment and then rushed out there today. Luckily, a Japanese-speaking friend could come with me to act as interpreter.
Beppu is known as the Las Vegas of Japan, a hot springs resort town full of tacky hotels and pachinko parlors. The hospital was not nearly so exciting.
I should sidetrack to say here that people don't really see private practitioners in Japan, they go to the hospital. It's like a giant clinic. And being part of a great bureaucracy, there were many steps to follow, and a correct order in which to do them.
First, we announced our presence and needs at the entrance desk. We filled out some paperwork and they made photocopies of my health card and school card (not sure why the second, maybe they have student discounts). Then we waited. Fifteen minutes later, I was given some kind of credit card-looking thing for the hospital, and we were told to go across the floor to another waiting area. Where we waited.
The hospital—the first floor at least—was essentially one huge waiting room. We all sat facing a wall, on the other side of which was nurses and beds and medical equipment and such. I stared expectantly at that wall. My name was eventually called and we were given more paperwork to fill out (Are you pregnant? No. Etc).
Then I had to take my temperature. This you do not by putting the thermometer in your mouth, but under your armpit. You do this right in the huge waiting room, with everyone watching. I wasn't sure whether to insert it from the neck of my shirt or up from underneath. I went from under, and pinched the thermometer in my sweaty, malodorous left pit until it beeped in disgust. I guess my temperature was normal—I still can’t convert Celsius to Fahrenheit.
After another period of waiting, I was told via public address announcement to proceed to room 9. I entered, expecting a waiting room, but found instead a doctor's office. He spoke English, and we talked about my travel plans and such. Hepatitis-A inoculation was what I needed. Back to the bus terminal I was sent.
Some time later, I was summoned by the nurses behind the wall, where I received an oddly pain-free injection into the triceps of my left arm. It was explained to my interpreter than we were to wait (what a surprise) for 15 minutes to make sure my arm didn't fall off or something. Which we did, and which it didn't. Lastly, we picked up my paperwork, revisited the entrance desk to hand over the paperwork, and were then (you got it) once again told to wait, this time to pay the bill.
There's a big desk at the front of the hospital that says in both Japanese and English, "Cashier." The cute girl in the bus station-like outfit called my name and presented me with a bill for $75. I paid, and we were done.
Now, this may seem like a lot of waiting but really, the whole process took less than 90 minutes. I've spent longer in doctor waiting rooms. Can't say I'm in love with this system, but as an alternative to our for-profit system, it's not so bad.
Here's hoping the shot works and I don't get the chance to compare Korea's medical system to Japan's.






















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