Saturday 27 June 2009

I am a Proponent of Privatized Medicine Due to the Following:

Unlike many Saturdays, today was intended for efficient productivity. I awoke this morning at 6:30 am and was on the elliptical trainer at the gym by 7:00. After exercise, I came home to shower and head towards an area called Sinchon. The reason for my adventure to Sinchon early this morn was because through my employer-granted insurance, I was entitled to a free doctor's examination which included blood, urine and x-ray tests. Just to ensure that I am in working order and it was free of charge, I thought it was a good idea to have done. This test was only available at Sinchon Leader's Hospital. What is absolutely hilarious is that the name of the hospital is in English, yet not one of their employees are capable of speaking English. It was the epitomy of what "Leaders" in healthcare should be.

I made it to Sinchon on an old rickety bus by 9:45 a.m. I arrived to the hospital by 10:45 a.m. Completely shank directions to this establishment were given to me and I stopped for directions approximately five times. Now, I was positive this hospital was on a particular street. Each person I asked for directions, or "helpers" told me to walk down (in opposite directions) for 5 minutes. After dealing with those five Koreans who passed along completely false information, I hailed down a cab driver. I showed him my paper with the Korean name of this place. Surprise! I was in the cab for 50 seconds and my total was still $2.40. Whatever. I hopped out of the scam car and found myself in a fairly low-end healthcare facility. Another surprise, 1st floor did not host the reception desk or signs...in English (aka current "Language of the World"). I pressed the "Up" button on the elevator and decided to take a guess and head to the 4th floor. Hand motions and slow talking with employees wearing scrubs directed me to the 2nd floor. The document which had the service I was to receive was crumbled and sad looking. Anyway, I handed that to the receptionist. In return, she gave me another document asking health history and personal information. This was anticipated, the only problem is that I do not read, speak, hear or understand Korean. Excuse me for saying this, but I was entirely prepared to punch someone's face.

I was told to sit down (not escorted nor directed). A woman then summoned me and I followed her to the desk of the meanest, baldest little Korean man I've ever met. He gave me a cup to conduct the urine sample. He scribbled Korean on the cup, and I am positive that it translated to "Stupid girl with orange hair." I went to the restroom and while I took a deep breath and tried to reassure myself that this bizarre "healthcare" situation would be over in 20 minutes, my hands forgot they were holding my pee cup and I dropped it in the toilet.

With my head hung low and troubled because I had no idea how to tell this mean little Korean man that I dropped my pee cup in the toilet, I went back to his desk. He gave me the eye, did not understand a word I had told him and proceeded to stick me with a needle for the blood sample. Next, he scooted me in to have my height and weight measured. After that, he threw me at the woman who took x-rays. After the x-ray, low and behold, this mean little man found an English speaker.

She said, "And where is your urine sample?

I replied "It fell in the toilet."

"Why did you do that?"

"It was completely unintentional. How difficult is it for you to give me another pee cup?"

Seriously. I wanted to find that same cab driver to rip me off again and drive me to the airport with nothing but the clothes on my back.

The woman hurled another pee cup my way and I went to the bathroom. I have never had this problem in my life, but today when I was told to pee on command, it totally wasn't happening. I felt like an abused animal at the circus who was whipped and cursed at (in Korean) and then told to sit, beg, do a somersault and then urinate into a cup.

I finally produced 3 cm. of urine for the mean little bald man and ran out of Sinchon Leader's Hospital like the dancing monkey who escaped the Barnum and Bailey Circus.

This, my friends, is my essay of complete distaste for socialized medicine.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Ugh. I'm glad you made it out of there alive. ♥