Unexpected Medical Expense

Last Sunday I woke up with my toe throbbing. I thought I had slept on it funny until a I finally got out of bed, put my foot down, and yelped in pain.

Vague memories of the previous night led me to believe that my newly discovered injury may have been consequence of impaired judgment. I’m not typically a violent person, but I definitely participated in an impromptu wrestling match wherein I managed to kick the wall with considerable force. The wall was quite obstinate, as walls are known to be. By some miracle of agility I managed to mangle my middle right toe and only the middle right toe. At the moment of impact, overwhelmed by adrenaline and a sense of my own prowess, I managed to avoid a rational assessment of my injury. Only upon waking up some twelve hours later did I consider my treatment options.

The tried and true ice-on-bruise method was tempting but underwhelming: I was quite sure, given my pain and the color of my toe, something beyond a home-remedy was called for.

My boss Tsukasa, angel that she is, offered to take me to the emergency room after I insisted she take me to the emergency room. I was not aware, until that moment, most hospitals are not open on Sundays. I repeat: most Japanese hospitals are not open on Sundays. The only option available, I was told, was the extra expensive “special circumstances emergency room.”

Call me a conspiracy theorist, but any time you find yourself in the emergency room is a special circumstance in my book. Moreover, whether I caught my middle toe in a bear trap on Wednesday or Sunday makes no difference to the bear trap or my toe – the pain is excruciating and requires attention whatever the calendar date. Lastly, considering the circumstances of my injury, I could imagine that I was not the only person to suffer injuries on Saturday night that require treatment on Sunday. In fact, I would venture to postulate that the Saturday-night-to-Sunday-morning is prime hospital-going time and this “take Sunday off” nonsense is nothing more than a cheap veil on the drunk tax the Japanese government has imposed on simple freedom-loving beer-drinking ex-patriots like myself. Actually it was whiskey but the point is the same: since when is closing hospitals on Sunday okay?

So anyway I was informed by Tsukasa that the only alternative was a smaller out of the way hospital that worked Sundays but only 9-5. It was already 3 so I said we ought to get a move on.

She had a good laugh at my expense when I hobbled out to the car. She had another one when I had to hobble to and from the ATM en route so I could actually pay for this little joy ride. We got to the hospital and evidently the entire staff was eagerly awaiting their gaijin visitor. Probably the most excitement the Sunday afternoon shift had seen in a while. The orderly who’d drawn the short straw had me sign in with barely veiled amusement. Her friends in the back looked on curiously. You’d think that hobbling in-patients are not all that uncommon in a hospital. I wondered exactly how much of the circumstances surrounding my injury Tsukasa had chosen to share with them.

The hospital itself was very un-hospital in that it seemed slapped together like a carnival maze. The reception had some benches thrown around with no perceivable coordination. There were some stunted staircases to half-floors and even a ramp to nowhere. The elevator lurched – totally cliché until you’re actually an injured person in a lurching elevator. Anyway the whole feng shui of the place was off and I’d just as soon be done with it.

I finally got to the x-ray room and Tsukasa commented on the stench of stale cigarettes. The x-ray technician sauntered out of the back reeking of cigarettes and chuckling in throaty emphysema incomprehensible Japanese and sputtered a laugh at my toe. Like seriously, what the hell was everyone finding so funny about my purple toe. I mean, besides the obvious. At any rate the guy asked Tsukasa to step out of the room and then laid a lead blanket about the size of a paper towel across my groin. Very comforting. He then returned to his den slamming the 6-inch steel door behind him. Extremely comforting. Click click and 10 minutes until the film developed. We chilled out to some Bread’s Greatest Hits back in the waiting room until the nurse beckoned us into the doctor’s office.

Dr. Exasperated was examining my x-rays when we came in. Our conversation went as follows.

Doc: So what exactly happened?

Me: Not sure, exactly.

Doc: I’m sorry?

Me: Well… my friends and I were rough-housing, I may have kicked a wall by accident. However, I might also have tanked on my bike riding home. It’s hard to say.

Doc: Looks quizzically from me to Tsukasa, then back to me. Well, young man, Japan is full of walls, so I advise that you proceed more cautiously in the future. Your toe is fine, just put some ice on it. Good day.

Smart ass. I was sure we would have been great friends under different circumstances.

Better safe than sorry, right? Tsukasa didn’t seem to think so, because she apologized all the way out of the hospital. Maybe I’m crazy, but I didn’t feel much remorse for people performing the services they are paid for. That is to say, of course I was very thankful for the services rendered, but just because I erred on the side of caution, you’d think that I’d at least get a “Well it’s a good thing you checked with us anyway” or whatever. My bank knows I pay enough for the insurance anyway. I guess I’ll just chalk up penitence for inaccurate amateur diagnoses next to Sunday sabbaticals for the healthcare industry on my list of things that make no sense in Japan.

So my toe is fine now, still a little swollen, but not enough to keep me from skiing last week. Skiing in Japan, of course, was an adventure unto itself and I’ll hopefully get a chance to fill you in greater detail sometime soon.