Days 9, 10, & 11 (look Ma I can count!)

Days 9 and 10

A calm has befallen the event at Matsushiro General. Whether this is due to becoming more accustomed to the style of life, or to the attention the staff is now paying to being more informative, or even to the schedules recently given to me, I cannot cay. However, the lull in insanity is definitely welcome.

As mentioned, after recent events the staff have seen fit to provide me with a few lists and schedules. Information I have received includes the approximate times of doctor's rounds, the weekly routines of retrieving my bodily fluids, and other pokes and prods that occur regularly. Beyond these routine events, that were previously stated to be unscheduled, the nurses, for the most part, have been quite diligent about informing me of changes to the standard course as well as taking their time to explain things fully. It is very fortunate that this level of care and attention to not just the physical, but mental health of the patient is being provided. It is still very unfortunate that events had to unfold as they did earlier this week in order to bring about this awareness.

I am able to recognize that prior to this change, the staff were still looking after my best interests as they saw fit. That last prepositional phrase however is the proverbial pea under the tower of mattresses. In contemplating the attitudes that surrounded me, it was obvious that their intent was not malicious. That being stated, a lack of malicious intent and the ability to cause harm are not causatively linked. Stated otherwise, by considering simply my physical condition, they in effect reduced my existence to only that state. The care for my physical well being is not in anyway malicious, in fact it is rather the opposite, but in doing so they pushed the health of my mental state to the outskirts of consideration, and that, while unintentional, caused much harm.

Things have become much better, and I believe that everyone is feeling good about it. I can tell that a few of the staff are on eggshells around me, but to be honest I feel that a change of that nature is positive. Those specific people previously seemed concerned with only the status quo. This is not simply a feeling that was brought up by my status as an outsider or from the organizational facets of my personality. There are a few students staying on the floor, with the same injury as I, and they all agreed that those nurses are the least friendly, and in my words curt.

I can only hope that as far as the future of this department is concerned, that a lesson is learned from the hardships I have experienced. If they walk away thinking that Gaijin or Canadians are difficult patients, then they have missed the point (that may be true for this Canadian Gaijin, but that is still beside the point.) If they think that foreigners need extra care and attention when staying in the hospital, as true as that may be, they have still missed the point. Only if they realize that the level of care and attention that I have demanded of them is the only acceptable level of care for all patients, Japanese and Gaijin alike, then they will have fully understood what I have struggled so hard to illuminate. The care giving facilities of the staff must be focused on the physical state of the patients, but if this comes at a detriment to the attention paid to the mental wellness of the patients then there is simply no point in even operating. When that is the case, the physical condition of the patient is fixed simply to cause damage to the mental condition.

Aside from the philosophical differences that the nursing staff and I have towards patient care, things have been going very well. I am attending “rihabiri” (physiotherapy) twice a day, and achieving noticeable results. Since beginning Monday, I have doubled the weight in the exercises on my injured leg. While walking I have also been focusing a majority my attention on my gate. I am trying to walk as naturally as possible, using the crutches only to relieve weight from my leg. I believe I have been quite successful at this. The practice on crutches last year, as in going to Tokyo three times and Kyoto once on the damn things, has no doubt helped me in this endeavour. While I am not holding my breath that any of this will help me heal more quickly, I am hopeful that this will help my body heal as best as it can.

Day 11

Anyone who has ever ridden a tall roller coaster will be able to remember the points where one chain drive ends, and the next picks up. There is a little bit of a jolt to the car, but things keep moving in the same direction. Today has seen a few of these points, but this are still more or less on the up.

The first jolt really occurred last night, but much like the observance of supernovae long after the event itself has taken place, the resonance of this jolt didn't come to fruition until today. Last night I singed up for a shower time. There is a shower in my room, but as I cannot really stand in it currently, I am more or less required to shower in the communal room where there are seats. The communal room is quite large and is used by everyone, but by only one person at a time. When my slot was called last night, I hobbled to my room and collected my shower stuff, and proceeded to the shower room. However, upon arrival I found that my time had been unceremoniously stolen by one of the Domestic Silver-haired Giichans. There was very little time left in the hours of operation for the shower, so in another room I washed my hair in a sink. I also cleared an early morning spot with the night nurses, with the guarantee that they would inform the morning staff.

After struggling to conciousness with my alarm at six (they were late on the lights today), I grabbed my bag and towel and headed off. I was about three strides out the door when who else but Patronizing Nurse stopped me. I told her that I had cleared a morning shower and all was good. In a less that appealing manner she told me I had to wait for my temperature to be taken, and to get back to my room. She stated she was only two rooms down the hall and would be in my room soon. As I was making an effort to remain congenial (man I was straining) I went back and waited. She finally came, and, after about a total of fifteen minuets elapsed, I was free to go.

The shower felt great. I haven't had a morning shower since before my surgery. I forgot how good I can feel in the morning with a little time under hot water, and some soap under my...well you get the idea. I ate almost all my breakfast as I was nice and awake. I had a wonderful start to my day.

After returning from physio, the ripples had continued to spread. I was approached by the head nurse, who explained to me that the shower times are from ten in the morning until nine at night. She stated that this was a hospital regulation (or rather that is what my electronic dictionary said) and that she couldn't bend the rules for me, because other people would also expect the same thing. The part about bending the rules was completely reasonable to me, but I couldn't figure out why there was no morning shower slot. Apparently they only staff three nurses until nine, and if someone falls in the shower then they are afraid that they will not have the resources to deal with other situations. Again, completely reasonable. I told her I understood, and that it was just unfortunate that many people from North America are not accustomed to evening showers, and that I always feel so much better after a wash in the morning. I didn't complain or ask for special compensation at all. The one thing I enquired about was the shower in my room. There is another rule about not showering while your room mate is there; that I didn't understand but I let it slide.

My disappointment was obvious, but she made sense so there wasn't much I could do. It was at that point that Dr. Horiuchi came to my aid. He told me that he completely understood where I was coming from, as he encountered the reverse when he was in the United States. He knew that a morning shower would help my spirits, especially as the only good coffee in the hospital costs a fortune. He said he would talk it over with the other doctors and draw a conclusion with in a few hours.

A man of his word, he came back and he had good news. I could shower in my room in the morning, and he had run it past my room mate who had no problem with it (my room mates 27 year old son also likes morning showers). The only problem was when we put a shower chair in my shower and there was almost no space. As I respect Dr. Horiuchi, and he decided to help me with this situation even with out me asking for help (or even raising a fuss...seriously!) I told him we could compromise. Until my staples are yanked, I will shower in the afternoon in the common room. Once I can get my leg wet and stand in the shower, I have free reign over the shower in my room. I told him that I felt we reached a great compromise and had met each other half way. He said that it was the Japanese way, and that in North America it is black or white. I couldn't stifle my laughter and I refuted his claim and told him that the true Japanese way is to shut your mouth and follow the rules.

There was another jolt in the ride up today. It first came to light in the morning, but again played out over many hours. The true insanity, and to me sheer hilarity, of the situation is that it was something I have been trying to avoid for months.

My leg is currently wrapped in a very expensive array of very light weight high tensile strength plastic, and velcro straps, better known in the ward by the name “Don-Joy.” Don-Joy is a custom knee brace company, the piece of hardware I am sporting is definitely near the top of the line. The price tag alone should confirm the fact. This baby drops in at over fifteen hundred Canadian. Since receiving my brace, I have asked a few people about who, how, and when I am supposed to pay for this baby. Nobody had given me a clear answer, but of course that didn't mean I was getting off with out paying. And of course, regardless to how hard I tried to find out how to pay, when if finally came down from the other end of the line, it was now an immediate situation.

Patronizing Nurse rushed in my room, and threw her face barely farther than the end of my tooth brush and started to interrogate me about paying for the brace. I pulled a few inches back, and removed my tooth brush (it's electric so I let it spin a little after I removed it, with hopes that the spray would make her back off a bit). I informed her that I have been trying to get to the bottom of that since I got the damn thing. She spouted a bunch of Japanese that I didn't understand, and as she wasn't making an effort of to be understandable, I went back to cleaning my teeth. A very nice friendly nurse came in after a few minutes, and we were able to have a normal conversation (and no it isn't just my dislike for PN that makes her hard to understand, she just can't seem to think of various ways to describe situations and just ends up repeating herself. The comic value would be tremendously high if I were only observing from a slightly farther and much more removed position.)

The Don-Joy Man (and no, neither of those is actually his name, though he is a man) comes on every Thursday. He was here yesterday looking to collect. Funny, I inquired about this a bunch of times, why did this information suddenly become common knowledge? I told them that since I would like two things from Mr.DonJoy: an invoice (before I drop a bucket of cash), and the English instruction manual (as they saw fit to provide me with the Japanese manual). The whole not having paid yet, didn't really seem to be an issue, it was more how I was going to pay that got the water boiling.

This problem extends beyond the brace and to the hospital fees as well. The brace is a one shot deal, but the hospital, unlike how I believe things work at home, you pay your balance every ten days (maybe so if you die on them you are not a total loss?) Now as far as the hospital fees go, I have been trying to find those out since December, but I kept getting run around until five days prior to my stay. When it is all said and done, the brace, the stay, and the surgery will total around 750,000 yen. Now that isn't a problem, I have the money (and I get a lot back after I file for medical assistance). The problem is getting the money.

Since I was only informed five days in advance of my stay of the actual cost, I was at a loss to get the money. The bank machines give a total of 100,000 yen a day, and I had other expenses to pay prior to coming to the hospital. My credit cards are out of the question, as my Master Card is expired with the new one on my mom's counter in Richmond, and my Visa limit is too low...not to mention the exchange gouge they would hit me with. So it's cash or nothing. Well never to worry, the hospital is run by JA (an agricultural alliance, that has their fingers in everything) which also runs a bank. Low and behold there is a bank machine in the hospital. That is good for everyone who uses the mountain hick bank of JA, but I am with the moderately sized rural city bank 82. And for some stupid reason, the JA bank machine in the hospital only accepts JA cards. I think they really don't want me to pay.

I managed to get 300,000 yen out before I came, and it is locked in my room safe. No one here knows that, and I am sure as hell not going to tell anyone. This is my ticket. They are going to authorize me to go out to the bank and get some cash. The nurses are sympathetic, as most of them bank with 82, but get paid in JA accounts. I am not so excited about going to the bank, but I am getting permission to go outside! The other part of my plan is that I can then also hit the convenience store, and stock up on stuff that is too expensive at the hospital JA run store.

The nurses suggested the idea, and my student Yuriko and I started scheming this afternoon. We made plans to book out tomorrow afternoon, and even get a quick but good meal on the outside. I seriously felt like I was getting day parole or something. It was all good to go...until Dr. Horiuchi spoke up. In his opinion (which I do trust) it is too early to go out as he thinks it's going to be dangerous on my crutches. Now granted he didn't see me ride a jam-packed bus in Kyoto, or the bullet train and Yamanote line with crutches, but hey he's the doc. He already took the liberty of having my hospital payments waived until he thinks it's safe for me to go outside, and he called Don-Joy and has had them invoice me but I don't have to pay until I am given my parole. It was tough to get my hopes up and have them deflated again, but to be honest, this not having to pay a bunch of separate times is much better.

So I am stuck here for the weekend, with no snack food reinforcements (save those which I am brought) and only the nasty tap water and expensive coffee...not to mention what ever it is that passes for food sometimes. In spite of that, I am looking forward to this weekend. Yuriko and her friend Mochida-sensei (a teacher I occasionally work with) are coming tomorrow afternoon, and that should be a barrel of monkeys. Sunday also brings some excitement as the Gals from night class are coming down, and that is always a good time. I am especially looking forward to it as Eriko lent me a copy of “Kafka on the Shore” and I am closing in on the end. I have some interesting thoughts that I can't wait to discuss with the few of them who have read it in Japanese. On that note, you should all read it. Kenan first recommended it to me, and I fully understand why. I don't want to stop reading it, but I also don't want to rush it, as I want to savour everyone of the gourmet ideas that are perfectly served up.

Anyhow, I am now sitting in the dark (have been for an hour) with my head lamp on, very probably getting eye damage from my screen. It is late, and to be honest, I want to go read. Hope you have all enjoyed my latest misadventures. I may be insane for doing this in Japan, and doing this in Japan may be making me insane, but at least I will walk out of here with one hell of a story (I don't know which is more exciting at this point, the walking, or the walking out of here, or the one hell of a story.) I seem to have a problem stopping once I start writing. I think I need a twelve step program.

Day 7 and 8

As spring break ticks away here in Japan, so do the day at the hospital. My friends are all out on vacation, but in here I am the one on a freaking trip. Like a hallucinogenic trip there are ups and downs, and also the distinct possibility that the trip can turn bad. Somethings that happen are entirely unbelievable but yet they are completely real, just the opposite of the aforementioned hallucinogenics.

Day 7

Up with the slow rise of dawn...oh how I wish. It is more like up with the blink and flicker of the florescent lights being snapped on at six in the morning. The only sunshine is in the voice of the offending nurse as she greets us with an “ohayo gozaimasu”. The morning routine seems to be slightly different everyday, and I hadn't got it quite figured out.

The time between the cheerful good morning and feeding time is a dreamy mix of semi-conciousness and sleep. Sometimes a nurse comes and shoves a thermometer in my face and asks me to put it under my arm, and some of those times she grabs my arm and starts to take my blood pressure. Other mornings its a needle in the arm, and an empty cup on the table, with instructions to fill it...and don't forget. One time I was so irritated I filled it to the brim, but low and behold the damn nurse never came to pick it up. Don't forget, ha.

I was under the impression that every morning we were given piping hot face towels, and asked it we want a nurse to wipe us down (until we can shower of course). Today is different though, as I never got a towel. In fact I didn't even know that the nurse had come to bring them, until she left the room taking my room mate's towel away. For the life of me I can't understand why I wasn't offered one; they wake me up to stick me and prick me, but I guess my feeling clean is not on their priority list.

Furthermore, I received said sponge (really a towel, my towel) bath only once... and that was the day after surgery. A few days have passed since then, and with my post-operative fever I am starting to rival a block of very good cheese. I finally had enough this morning and when what ever two of the twelve doctors did rounds I demanded to know when I could shower. When they told me that once my staples were pulled in a few weeks I would be able to shower, the anger in my voice started to rival the stench wafting from my unmentionable parts. The nurses saved the situation by saying I could cover my leg in plastic, and the doctor agreed. I asked the nurse to sign me up for a time slot in the shower room, and to inform me of what time that would be at. She of course said yes, and the like the current state of the polar ice caps, she disappeared never to be seen again.

As breakfast was being dropped off, I asked a few questions. First off, it was still my Mum's birthday in Canada and I wanted to buy some internet time and make a call to send my best wishes. On top of that I had some laundry to do (especially with my semblance to cheese). I knew I was starting physiotherapy, so I was inquiring as to what time that was at. Food times are set, so I was trying to calculate what the most efficient way to do my chores was. I asked two separate nurses on to separate occasions, only to have them never return.

I proceeded to make my phone call before the head nurse came in to introduce myself and my room mate to three new nursing staff...she did not introduce them to us. I stopped her and asked her about the physio schedule and explained why I wanted to know. She said she would get back to me when she had done the rounds with the newbies. Bless her heart she got back to me. I just wish it was in a different manner.

The buzz of the intercom near my head was quickly followed the head nurse telling me to go to physio...now. I had a moment of rage, and a moment of panic, and then I told her I would have to put on some underwear and shorts as I was still in my pyjamas. I rushed down to physio and luckily beat the masses. That is understandable even on my crutches, as the masses mostly consist of two breeds, the Japanese Silver-haired Giichan and Baachan. My trainer introduced herself. She showed me where to sit, and how to wear my brace, and then she slapped some ankle weights on me. She got me started before running off to deal with no less that six other patients. She periodically came back and assigned me the next set of exercises. They hurt, and they are tough, but I persevered. Roughly two hours later she released me with the instructions to return in the afternoon. Thankfully she gave me a time.

Back to the sixth floor and time for laundry. The washing machine was not that hard to figure out, it eats lots of money and quite possibly the occasional sock. Two bucks later, my skivvies and my towels were getting clean. Oh how I envied them.

Food came and went, the dryer swallowed more of my money, and soon again it was down to physio again. The same set, but this time unsupervised. The biggest difference however was that this time I didn't forget my music. All was good until I was interrupted and told I had visitors.

Maryuyama-sensei and Chie-sensei from Kosha had come to visit. I called it a day, and we went to chat in the sixth floor lounge. Bless their hearts; they brought flowers and strawberries (which I am eating now). These two wonderful ladies were a few of my best friends as Kosha. The three of us sat together in the teachers room, and Maruyama-sensei was the head of the English department. Even my eyes got tears earlier this year when I learned that they were both getting transferred to different schools next year. About half and hour in, and in the midst of a great chat, a nurse came running over a blabbed some super fast Japanese. Bless her heart, Maruyama-sensei translated that all the doctors (as in all twelve) were about to do rounds and I was required to be in my bed. This being the first I had ever heard of this I was quite shocked, but my friends cut our chat short and took their leave.

I raced to my bed, hopped out of the wheel chair and manoeuvred into the iron frame. Then I did what I seem to do the best at this hospital, wait. After the passage of a few minutes my room suddenly became a sea of white. I say there were twelve doctors, but in all honesty it was hard to tell where one doctor became the next. The chief doctor, and a good English speaker, Akizuki-sensei led the pack. After a few words with my room mate it was on to me. He first asked how I felt, to which I answered fine. Then he picked up my leg and wiggled it a bit, following up with a question on my impressions of Japanese hospitals. First off I could tell he was showing off his English in front of the other doctors, and secondly I could tell he had pre-expected answers to his questions. When I told him that it was a beautiful hospital with good doctors, he seemed pleased. But continuing with my impression that the hospitalization process in Canada was better, he got a little agitated. I forget what he said next, but as swift as it flowed in, the wave of white coats washed out the door. The whole process took under a minute, leaving me angry that I had to return to my bed for such trivial questions and that my friends started a long drive home because of a sixty second check up.

Soon after, Yuriko showed up. She and I set off to get more change for the bottomless (and apparently pointless) clothes dryer. Utterly aggravated by the hurry up and wait for a freaking pointless check up, I was on the war path. It was then, as I walked past the front desk that they informed me that I had a six o'clock shower slot. Six is dinner time, as I informed them. They told me I could eat first the shower, and it was just then that I looked at the clock and realized that it was now five. The nuclear phase of my war path was completed.

Even Yuriko's carafe of coffee couldn't calm my nerves. Kenan mentioned Kafka in his comment to my previous post, and to be honest I have been feeling the same. With the apparently lack of a daily schedule, the sudden appointments, and the complete lack of control over my time, I was really close to meltdown. The lack of effort in communication by many nurses and the prison like life style were running their course on me. I no longer felt that my life was even mine. Before my hospital stay, the doctors had translated the patient contract verbally for me, and I stamped my approval on the Japanese document. Did they forget to mention these things? Or perhaps they didn't even translate what I stamped, but I authorized it never the less.

Yuriko has been so supportive, and she listened to me list my grievances. It was then that she pulled out a pen and some paper and we started making a list. In the end it came to a few major points. I need to know the daily schedule so that I can plan when to do my errands. I need the nurses to read me the food menu (all in Kanji) so I can actually choose between meal A and B, and understand what it is that I am ordering. There were some other points as well, but the one the held the most importance was schedule. I needed to know that they had a schedule, because I was very afraid of the consequences of they didn't.

I ate dinner, and went to the shower. Yuriko and I planned that she would talk to the staff while I was cleaning, and that the two of us and a nurse would sit down after and talk through the solutions to the problems I was having. As I was getting ready to wash there was a knock on the changing room door. It was Patronizing Nurse (PN) again. I let her in, as I still had pants on, and she handed me a schedule with food times, and blanks for me to write in the times that physio and I decided. I couldn't believe it. I explained to her that those times were the same everyday, and I had already figured those out. The times of other things like rounds, and what check-ups will be done that day (and when) was what I was looking for. She spurted unintelligible Japanese. When I told her I didn't understand she repeated herself, or said something else equally mystifying. That dumb show proceeded, as I got more and more frustrated. I finally broke into English and explained that: she understands simple English, but if I speak very quickly using complex words and grammar that there is no chance she will ever understand what I am saying, and that they exact reverse of that is what was currently taking place. I stopped and asked in Japanese if she understood. When she said 'no,' I said 'exactly.' It was then that I pushed her out the door, and reiterated that she could talk with Yuriko and I after my shower.

Physically refreshed, I put on some clean clothes and my game face. It was time for showdown in the lounge Monday Night Edition. She came and sat down, but nothing was getting through. At first she couldn't comprehend what I meant by daily routine (even with Yuriko translating), and when she finally did she insisted that no such thing existed. I stood up and announced that if that was the case that I was removing myself from their care, or the quite obvious lack-there-of. Yuriko said something different in Japanese to calm PN down. (I think the fact that it was PN made it all the worse for me.)

After Yuriko explained what I meant by schedule in a few different ways, the nurse said that I must have received a colourful piece of paper that explained all this. I carry every paper I got from the hospital in a shoulder bag (good old A type) and I pulled out the folder. They are all white. I started pulling them all out and we finally came to a white piece of paper that gives the roughest sketch of what will happen over the course of a month. Needless to say it is all in Japanese, but I went to the effort of translating it with my English teachers.

I opened it up, she beamed that it was the right paper, and the smile was instantly shoved back to the pit of her stomach as I lashed out again that it wasn't good enough since there were no specifics as to date and time, and that it was a farce since certain things (like getting cleaned) were not happening. I wanted a schedule that was on a daily level, and it would be best if there were estimated times, but I would settle for morning/afternoon/evening, and hell even just knowing what the day had in-store even if there was no associated time. I didn't need it then, but just being informed of the daily schedule in the mornings would be enough for me. She tried to explain that it was simply impossible, as the nurses in the morning don't know what will happen because the doctor's haven't decided what will happen that day. When I asked to be informed when they schedule was created, she also thought that was impossible. It got to the point where Yuriko finally stopped me, and told the nurse to get a doctor.

The doctor came, and I spared him none of my wrath. I was polite (mostly), but forceful. He was gracious, and actually quite understanding. He told me that they all understood that they didn't know how to help me the best way, since my cultural background is so much different. He listened to what I had to say, and he finally had a chat with the nurse.

After he left, she opened my folder, and started reading through the schedule inside. She told me when I get needles, and when I pee in a cup. She told me of X-rays and MRIs. She taught me when the doctors do rounds, and for which of those I have to be in my room. In the end, I had a schedule that, while not complete, was a framework to plan my life a bit. I pleaded to be informed of anything that gets added. There was a bloody schedule all along! Why was it so difficult for them to tell me that? And why did she say that it didn't exist? Argh.

In the end, she pulled out a form that was the nursing staff's “care form” for me. It listed the major points that they were trying to ensure, including being better with communication and asking to use my dictionary (things that came from a previous scuffle that Yuriko helped me with), and also the standards of making risk assessments and making sure I don't fall or get injured. I thanked her, as it was nice to know that they had a document like that. She then turned it around and asked me to sing the bottom. I stated I wasn't singling another damn form in Japanese because that has caused me enough grief already. She was about to argue, so I took the paper and wrote “NO.” After an explanation by Yuriko, she put the thing in an online translator that came back with some weird kind of pseudo-English. It doesn't make that much sense, but I singed it, cause hey it doesn't make sense so it doesn't mean anything.

After the whole ordeal, my torn ACL buddy Koyasu-san came over. Somehow we got going on why I was so irritated, and I got into how I was reminded of Kafka. That started it. The three of us were grabbing for the electronic dictionary and it turned into an hour long chat about life and philosophy. Even though we were translating to each other, we had a really meaning full chat, and I felt remarkably better. But I was left with another thought: how could we talk in two different languages about existentialism, metaphysics, and other complex topics so easily, but the nursing staff seems unable to get anything across to me?

Day 8

Today was smooth sailing. I got my original room and window spot back. I went to physio twice, and I can tell that my leg is stronger every time I go.

There is only one thing that troubled me today. A decent night's sleep has evaded me since coming to the hospital, but this was something different. I have woken up a sweat a few times, and just passed it off on my post-op fever. Last night however, I distinctly remember a rather strange dream. It is not so much a nightmare, bad dream, or scary dream, as much as it is simply disturbing. I remember it thoroughly, but awake I don't understand why it disturbs me so. What really gets me, is that when I awoke remembering this dream, I also realized that I have had this dream repeatedly in the last few nights.

It has nothing do do with hospitals or doctors, but rather trains. It is very bizarre, and I must spend more time contemplating it. There must be some connection to the hospital stay and the events in the dream. I'll think more on it, and hopefully I won't experience it again tonight...but if I do that will just make contemplating it easier.

Kenan, you told me not to cut my posts short, and this is far from it. I breached page five, it is well past lights out, and the nurses let me stay in the lounge to write. Now I have to pee...and to be honest I don't know how much more I could write tonight. I hope you all enjoyed reading the insanity that is currently my life.

Day 6 (& 3, 4, 5)

So I haven't exactly kept up with actually writing everyday, but I will give you the gist of what happened each day. I'll start with day 3, the big day.

Day 3 – D-Day

I was woken up slightly before 6am. Craving coffee, all I received was an enema. In the end I guess they accomplish the same, but it is just so much easier to enjoy a nice cup of joe. After that I received a nice bagged breakfast, that was inserted into my arm. In fact, every meal that day was fed the same way...one after the next after the next.

I was rudely informed that my goatee would have to go. No amount of logical argument seemed to get through, so in the end I just had to go with it. Since nobody saw it fitting to inform me of this prior to D-Day, I hadn't brought my beard trimmer...and my goatee was gettin' shaggy. I asked it they had something I could trim with, and they said no, spawning a new round of arguments. Anyone who has ever had to shave a moderate length, bushed out beard will know the pain involved. I asked if they had scissors, and my request was granted with a pair of paper cutting snips. I was thoroughly unimpressed. I asked if they had a thinner pair of scissors with a point. After initially saying no (and my ensuing response that there was no way I was getting surgery if they were using a pair of paper scissors on me), I finally received a pair of surgical sheers. I trimmed my beard short, and tried not to shed a tear as I took the final swipes of the razor.

Next battle. Noon. The surgeon came to me earlier in the day and told me that I would be going in around two or three in the afternoon. It was shortly after noon that a nurse (unfortunately for her, I remembered she was the one who dropped the beard news) came to my room and asked me to get into what I call “rikishi” pants. Rikishi are the contestants in sumo, and “pantsu” is underwear in Japanese. These gonch are a cross between a fig leaf, a thong, pacific islander garb, and sumo...things. I informed the nurse that the doctor said between two and three, and I would put them on closer to the time. That wasn't good enough for her, I told her I would as soon as I was done working on the computer. When she came back in half an hour and they were still on the bed, she freaked. I resisted, but she was getting close to thermonuclear, so after she left (and against my wishes) I put them on. When she came back in another twenty minutes and said that the doctor called and that they were very busy and behind schedule and I might not be in until four or five, I gave her a look that would freeze the sun (on a side note, she is kinda cute, but talks to all the patients in this patronizing tone that makes me want to wring her neck.)

Quarter to five rolled around, and they tossed me on a stretcher. It was into the elevator, and down to op-level. Through the corridors (of which I have committed the ceilings to memory) and into the OR. The anaesthesiologist was first up, and he proceeded to iodine my spine, and then insert a tube into it. The nurses were laughing as he was doing his best with minimal English and I was only speaking Japanese. Then it was time for the arm restraints, and then the gas. I made everyone laugh with my final comment of “itterashai” which you say when someone leaves the room or house.

I woke up like a bat outta hell, and they quickly pulled the tubes out of my throat. I was instantly aware and fully understood where I was and what had happened. The first thing I did was feel my leg. Cast. One month.

Before rushing out the door, I had a chance to read the timers in the room. Almost three hours under, and almost two for the surgery. Then it was down the hallway, of which I still remembered the ceiling, and up to the sixth floor recovery room. The head doc met me there and explained the deal. My ACL had fused to the PCL, a good thing, but it was about 2/3 torn and they felt that it would provide insufficient stability. So it was full reconstruction. Then the surgeon came in and told me they were surprised at how stiff Canadian knees are in comparison to Japanese knees. I told him because they all sit on their knees, and then told him how bad that is for your knees (berating the knee doctor, ha.) He laughed, and said that they all had discussed that and they completely agreed.

Then I passed out in a restless sleep. I sweated the night away, completely unaware of how much time had passed in the dark recovery room. Various things happened, and various medicines were administered (in various ways...I still couldn't eat). But the worst of it was all coming to an end, and I was slowly getting strength back.

Day 4 and 5

Were pretty much the same. I had some visitors, and I was up and at it. I was (and still am) running a fever, but I wasn't letting that slow me down. I was whippin 360s in my wheel chair, and having a good time. The bathroom was a little difficult, but hey I had a cast before, and these toilets automatically raise the lid and have a button for the seat (as well as many features for the butt cleaning sprayers). Day four my night class student and friend Yuriko (my saviour, she brought me here, and has come everyday except surgery day)came with a big carafe of coffee. Then as I was trying to figure out what to do with my evening, my friend and co-worker Takayama-sensei came to visit. He is one of the nicest people at Kosha, and I am pleased to call him my friend.

Day five hit a few snags as the internet in my new bed didn't work. I was in the same room, but lost the window to Hori-san. Hori-san is a great guy with a couple of really cute kids. He has a pretty awful hernia and crawls to the toilet. He has a portable DVD player that gets TV, but only on the window side. I couldn't hold it against him that he jacked my spot. But never the less my internet was down...I had already purchased time, and part of the reason for paying for a pair room is the internet. Well five hours and three technicians later, the high tech solution was to use Hori's internet port (which was not a very good soultion for a variety of reasons) or to move to an other room (which I had already turned down because it is much narrower, and I am paying the highest rate). In the end, and I say this leaving a lot of tense discussion with the nursing staff, I moved rooms. Nobody was happy in the end.

Day 6

I woke up, and finally got a chance to call Mum (I spell it Mom, but at her instance Ill go with the u). It's here birthday here today, and by the time I post this, probably there too. She was rushing out to the ballet with a friend, so we were brief. I got a little bit of the support I needed, and she got a little bit of the piece of mind that she needed. I was going to call back later to talk to my sis, but things happened pretty fast.

I was called into the working room, and low and behold my cast was cut in half. Physio starts tomorrow, and I get to wear my one hundred fifty thousand yen knee brace. Then the doc came in and pulled the tube that was inserted in my spine on D-Day. I had been carrying around a little bag that had a condom like thing slowly dispensing pain killer to my leg, and a button for a big hit of pain killer. It was pardon the pun a real pain. I accidentally spilt coffee on it, and pissed on in, as well as various other mishaps...like saying how amazing it was that I had no pain in my knee, until I realized I was sitting on the button. It was gone. Yeehaw.

Then my word shook. Or rather the central portion of Japan shook. There was a magnitude 7.1 earthquake of the west cost of Japan. It clocked in at about a 5 here in Nagano, and caused the sixth floor to go swinging back and forth pretty far for the better part of what felt like two minutes. I was so happy...my first big earthquake in Japan. I was on the internet and I was instantly googling to see where and how big it was. I got the news about twenty seconds before the TV. There have been a few aftershocks, one major enough to shake us for another thirty seconds. Talk about excitement. You can't pay for fun like that! Or maybe only people who studied a lot of geography get that excited by the release of subductional friction.

This line just broke onto the third page of my word processor, and I know that I am reaching the limit of some readers attention. Also I want to go pee and get a coffee. From here on, it's up on my feet for part of the day, and wheeling around the rest. Soon enough it's all me (and the crutches). Here I go!

Day 2

***WARNING this post contains frank discussions that my be disgusting to some readers. If you read it don't complain to me. If you complain to me...well I really just don't care.***

The second day, of a yet undetermined number, is coming to an end. This day has seen a little action and an attempt at battling anxiety. Let's take a little chronological walk through the highlights.

Twenty after five in the morning I was curtly awakened (I hesitate to say rude as it was not so much rude, but simple and to the point). Now that time of the morning is usually reserved for one of two things: sleeping, or still partying from the previous day. As I was not partying, inertia dictated that I was to remain sleeping. When she said she was going to do a blood test, I mumbled something and held out my arm. Well, I woke up pretty quick when I realized what was actually happening. Good thing I am not afraid of needles, but to be honest it didn't really hurt. She left; I kept sleeping.

One hour after my previous awakening, I was drawn back to consciousness again. This time for a temperature and blood pressure check. Since breakfast was soon, and I wanted a shower and coffee, I dragged my ass outta bed. The view out the window was stunning, as the sun rose to begin it's near perfect twelve hour trek across the heavens.

Breakfast was mediocre. Menus are created in three day spans, and I wasn't here to sign up for the “bread” meal. On a side note, a common, and ridiculous, question from Japanese people is “Which do you like rice or bread?” Which is usually followed (without waiting for an answer) by some statement about how Japanese people like rice but Americans (read: Westerners...god I hate that) like bread so much. I usually tell them that in THE WEST (stress not America) people like many things, and that saying you like rice or bread is a strange idea, as you can like both. This concept is usually not understood, as how is it possible to like both the same (sometimes I say I like noodles just to screw with them). This morning with the breakfast lady was no different. She handed me the Japanese style breakfast (fish, rice, miso soup, some veggies) and said that next time the bread breakfast would probably be better wouldn't it. I launched into the aforementioned spiel, and the results were standard. To be honest, the bread breakfast is usually more appealing, not because I don't like rice, but because it comes with eggs and fruit not fish and soup.

Twenty to nine and it was time for a trip to physio. They did the final pre-op tests and checks on my leg. As usual I was cracking jokes and getting the staff to enjoy their job a little more. All went well, and I was back in my room by half past nine. Which is when I realized that I might become a record setter in the ward.

Two in the afternoon yesterday until two in the afternoon today was my chance to be a champion. This is nothing spectacular, and everything short of it. Really this is nothing to write home about, but screw you all, I'm going to anyway. For the said twenty four hour period I had to collect all my urine. They provided me with a graded cup and bucket like pitcher. Last night I amused myself comparing how much my bladder held until I had to pee. It ranged from two hundred fifty to three hundred millilitres. Not bad, that's a can of pop right there. This morning I was a little more sensitive and I was only getting out about one hundred fifty millilitres. That was till I hit the mother load and almost overfilled the cup at a whopping four hundred millilitres. I will stop talking about my pee in a second, but first to my record. I could have squeezed in (or is that out?) one more time, but I lost track of time. However, in the end I wound up with a whopping record setting three litres of pee, so much so that I had to get a second bucket to hold it all. Thank you one litre nalgene bottle and travel coffee mug, I couldn't have done it with out you. (speaking of which: pee break)

Before my pissing contest ended, five of my night class students (the gals) came to visit. They brought lunch and came just as I got my plate of non-memorable food. We chatted it up and had a right old time in the lounge. They brought me some very nice flowers, and one of the girls lent me a book (Kafka on the Shore). It was a great break to a potentially boring day.

After they left I had coffee with a friend I made in the ward, and his friend. We are the ACL club.
Koyasu-san (who lives one town over) is in for his second knee, and the other gentleman (an elementary school teacher) is in for a tear he did over ten years ago. Talking with them had made me feel much better about the whole process. They have not only gone through it, and can thus understand my anxieties, but they have also gone through it with the doctors and staff that I will. Their (and others') insistence that this department is famous is echoed by the fact that there are patients from far away who come here for the doctors skill. I am resting a little more assured with both that knowledge and also with the fact that I have a few friends who truly understand. I know that Koyasu-san and I are going to be friends after this is all over. There isn't a chance he will let that not happen.

Nine in the evening came, and I had to stop eating and drinking. With the surgery and general anaesthetic tomorrow I had to go on the Hollywood diet (way more effective than South Beach). I wolfed down dinner, with hopes it would pass in the same fashion it was consumed. You see (children stop reading) what ever doesn't make it out on it's own accord by six tomorrow morning is getting flushed out. I can't even think of something sarcastic enough to write here, that's how happy I am about that.

Shortly after my...internal shower...I will receive breakfast...internally...or intravenously I should say. Lunch will be the same. Almost as good as this evenings Hollywood diet, but still one calorie is one too many, right Paris? When the clock strikes two, or maybe three, tomorrow afternoon, it will be time to head on down to the OR. The diagnostic procedure will take about fifteen minutes. If they go ahead with the full meal deal, it will be about an hour and a half. After that it's the recovery room and most likely feeling pretty ill.

I can write that all, but I don't know if I really have my head around it all. I am not really nervous, or all that anxious...which leads me to believe it hasn't sunk in yet or that I have more control over my fears than I though (or that I am an android incapable of feelings, but that miraculously has knee ligaments). Whatever the situation, I go under tomorrow. I may not get around to writing a day three post, and I can guarantee if I do write it I won't be posting it tomorrow. This is long however, so enjoy it; read it again; read some old posts; or do whatever it is you do when you are not computing the letters that spell the story of my life in Japan. Until I post again: I love you all, see ya on the other side.

Day 1

So this is they way it is going to be. I will try to write a journal everyday, and post them whenever I can. That is easier than I thought it would be, as there is a LAN port right beside my bed, but the real question is expense. I have to buy prepaid cards for the TV and the internet. The room itself is more expensive than the base rate as well. I had originally opted for the standard 4 person room, as that style incurs no extra costs. However after much deliberation, and talking through it with many people, I decided that I didn't want to be in a room with 3 geriatric Japanese people who don't know English, and speak the very hard to understand 'old person Japanese' (mumbling mixed with words I don't understand). So I upgraded.

Thirty one bucks a day, on top of all the other costs, gets me a spot in a 2 person room. This room itself is currently occupied by me, myself, and I. I chose the window side bed, as I can open them up for a breeze, and it is brighter than the other side. The bed is hard and narrow...I'm pleased about the former, less so about the latter. The real selling point on my room is the windows. They are very large and they have a spectacular view of the foot hills to the east. The mountains are about a kilometre away, and are quite beautiful. Definitely more beautiful than the parking lot immediately below my window.

The hospital is in the finishing stages of being redone. I am fortunate enough to be in the new tower on the sixth floor. The entire ward is bright and clean, the only down side is, being Japan, there is a tea dispenser but there is no coffee. For that I have to go to the first floor and buy a freaking tiny little cup...or an infamous Japanese can of coffee.

So far today, I have had my piss and blood checked again (third time). I waited. And some more. Saw one doc, saw the other, was admitted and shown my room. Then I had the same conversation about allergies, medicine, and health with at least 3 nurses. I got lunch. I waited I spoke to the anaesthesiologist. I went to get another MRI done (third time). I waited. They took the MRI. I went to the x-ray area. I waited. They took the x-rays. And that was it.

I came back to my room. After all the waiting in the hospital over the last few months, I have really come to hate just sitting around waiting for some other test or talk...but I now have a new appreciation for the waiting. You see, I am currently sitting on my bed, I have nothing to do, and nothing planned for later...so technically I am not waiting...just sitting around bored as hell at 4 in the afternoon. To be honest I would rather be waiting...at least then you feel that there is a purpose to your boredom. I can fake it a bit and say that I am waiting for dinner, or further even for my operation, but those feel like cheating. I am not waiting around in the hospital for once, and how I wish I was.

First things changed

...and then they changed again. It's from a Tom Petty song, but it may as well be my theme song.

If you have kept current on my blog you will know that I received some really good news the other week regarding the doctors plans to start with orhtoscopic diagnostic surgery. The plan was to freeze me from waist down and stick the camera in my knee, and decide whether the reconstruction surgery is needed. If it is required, we were going to wait a month and then proceed with the real meal deal.

Well not much has changed except all that matters. After my previous meeting I started to change all my plans. The sitter for my cat, not canceling my gym membership, school schedules, even all the preparations for a month in the hospital. This took considerable work but was enjoyable as the chance to not undergo ACL reconstruction gave me some hope.

I went back to the hospital last Friday. After hours of drawing blood, snapping x-rays, doing ECGs, and other preparations for surgery, I sat down with the doctor again. The three main doctors who are working on me sat down prior to that appointment and discussed my situation. They created a revised plan.

I am now going in to the hospital on the 20th. I will have 2 days of observation before they operate under general anesthetic. They will proceed as planned with the diagnostic surgery, however this is where the scenario changes. They decided that it is best, if determined that I require reconstruction surgery, to continue on at that point and do the entire surgery.

Now, there is no doubt in my mind, that if the surgery is required that I will get it done. That is not an issue. Hell, even doing the surgery as a continuation makes sense to me. That is about as far as I get in understanding this situation.

What I have not been able to get my head around is why it changed and changed again. It seems like I was offered a false hope, on which I proceeded to (as I do) plan the next large chunk of time. I have a lot on my plate, but I managed to turn everything around to the new plan, but now it has gone back to the original...sort of. And I am at a loss. I have to do full preparations for both possible outcomes, and in the 12 days between learning about the new new plan and the surgery I have very little free time. That is really just the stress though (and not to down play it as it really is a lot of fucking stress), the worst part is the anxiety.

If you haven't put the pieces together yourself yet, let me do it with you. I will go in on the 20th. I will go under on the 22nd. I will wake up on the 22nd and learn what they have done to my knee, and whether I am in the hospital for a week or a month, and whether I need only medication or a years worth of rehab. Pretty much I know nothing, and that isn't going to change. Some of my friends here don't seem to understand that that causes a lot of angst for me. However, anyone who truly understands my personality also understands that I don't do very well with uncertainty. I like schedules (as precise as possible most of the time), organizing, and preparing far in advance. So 3 days ago I found out that 9 days from now my entire life is a big question mark.

So I am trying to hold myself together as everything is up in the air. I don't want to experience the moment, but since I must I just wish the waiting to be over, when I wake up (groggy from the sleepy juice) and see whether I have a cast on my leg or not.

Cast = 1 month. No cast = 1 week.

That equation is my life for the next 9 days, and all I wish is that I could forget about it till then.

If anyone is familiar with Kafka, I think I understand on a very personal level some of the feelings he had. A total lack of control juxtaposed with the power that the doctors have over my life and schedule. I feel very powerless over something which I am used to having full control.

I thought we had moved past this...

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...but I now see the true hypocrisy of the American War Machine. It is unbelievable to me that these flimsy excuses are not only still being used, but also seem to hold some sort of clout with the public. How in whatever-(if any)-deity-you-believe-in's-name does this encourage countries like the North Korea and Iran t0 pursue less aggressive stances? In the name of sheer defence of their own national sovereignty, I can understand why these nations would pursue their own nuclear arsenal. We have already seen a drastic change in the respect that North Korea has gotten since they joined the Atomic Club. I really wonder what definition of nonproliferation is being considered.

World War 2 was a spectator sport of appeasement for a considerable time. How long until we recognize the aggressive stance that the USA is taking towards the rest of the world as the possible spark in the very dry brush pile? How long until someone (and really who can do it?) stands up and makes the States accountable under the Nuclear Nonproliferation and Disarmament Treaty? It seems to me like someone has made the bully in to the Hall-monitor, and it's only a matter of time until someone starts something serious.

The future of the World has always been uncertain, but the uncertainty now seems to be what will get us first climate change or war. I for one, feel these two are inexorably linked.