Seven hospital visits, five different hospitals, three sets of x-rays, ten weeks of hobbling, an MRI scan and now, finally, they can tell me I have a damaged ligament. The snow is gone, the boarding season is over and my faith in the Japanese health care system has long ago melted. But I’m not complaining, I’m just happy to finally have a cast on and a (fairly) clear idea of which ligament is damaged.
Arriving yesterday at the very new and expensive looking city hospital I was escorted around three reception desks before finally receiving some papers and a card. Then I was sent to the strange and demonic place known as the MRI Room.
I knew MRI’s were noisy, but felt very unsettled when strapped in and left alone in the pleasantly disguised torture chamber. With the ‘push in case of emergency’ button in hand I was transported into the machine for forty strange minutes.
Metallic clunking and banging surrounded me. Highly hung-over from the previous evening’s cherry blossom drinking, I continuously dozed of. And I was continuously awakened by either strange, strange noises filling my eardrums or by my legs twitching as I drifted off in this unusual position. Knowing you must keep perfectly still to get clear results, I panicked after each twitch that I’d have to go through it all again.
But after only one session I was the proud owner of a brilliant set of photos. About fifteen large sheets showing my ankle from all angles in all kinds of detail. It really was amazing to see the product of my torture. I then went to another town and another hospital for the results to be deciphered. Deciding that my ankle was, after all injured, it was agreed to make me a removable cast. This was done simply by putting some special gauze around my foot, then wrapping it in a bandage. The doctor then left, telling me only to stay in the same position. 
So I was more than a little surprised when the whole cast started heating up. I must have looked pretty confused because one of the nurses came over to reassure me that it’s supposed to heat up. Still not understanding, I just sat there and tried to think happy thoughts. When they removed the bandage, the special gauze had molded and hardened into the shape of my ankle. Brilliant. Not electricity or anything. Now I can finally begin the recovery period.
Arriving yesterday at the very new and expensive looking city hospital I was escorted around three reception desks before finally receiving some papers and a card. Then I was sent to the strange and demonic place known as the MRI Room. I knew MRI’s were noisy, but felt very unsettled when strapped in and left alone in the pleasantly disguised torture chamber. With the ‘push in case of emergency’ button in hand I was transported into the machine for forty strange minutes.
Metallic clunking and banging surrounded me. Highly hung-over from the previous evening’s cherry blossom drinking, I continuously dozed of. And I was continuously awakened by either strange, strange noises filling my eardrums or by my legs twitching as I drifted off in this unusual position. Knowing you must keep perfectly still to get clear results, I panicked after each twitch that I’d have to go through it all again.
But after only one session I was the proud owner of a brilliant set of photos. About fifteen large sheets showing my ankle from all angles in all kinds of detail. It really was amazing to see the product of my torture. I then went to another town and another hospital for the results to be deciphered. Deciding that my ankle was, after all injured, it was agreed to make me a removable cast. This was done simply by putting some special gauze around my foot, then wrapping it in a bandage. The doctor then left, telling me only to stay in the same position. 
So I was more than a little surprised when the whole cast started heating up. I must have looked pretty confused because one of the nurses came over to reassure me that it’s supposed to heat up. Still not understanding, I just sat there and tried to think happy thoughts. When they removed the bandage, the special gauze had molded and hardened into the shape of my ankle. Brilliant. Not electricity or anything. Now I can finally begin the recovery period.
No comments:
Post a Comment