This weekend I'll be once again locked away for three days writing/proofreading/recording the entrance exam for my school. This is to prevent me making mucho dinero by selling it to potential test takers or hagwons (this happened a few years ago, which is why the rest of us must suffer no internet/cell phones for three days).
Last year it was three full days of the white foreigner's plight--to be constantly watched and commented on, but not interacted with; to be both never alone and yet very lonely and isolated. I can take this treatment for about 8 hours before shutting down completely...
This year, there are more people who will be with us than just our school's English teachers, so I anticipate this situation to be even more exaggerated. And while last year's vice principal was accommodating of my vegetarianism and very well organized, I don't know how the current VP will manage the weekend.
I'm hoping it will be ok.
Tell you in three days.
Friday, December 11, 2009
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
Winter/Hiking/Recovery
Winter in Daegu is cold. Usually bitter cold with wind making it feel colder. However, winter is also sunny and bright, with clear blue skies and lots of sunshine. Often, when I look out the window (if the room I am in is adequately heated), I forget that it is winter and bitter cold and that the sun sets at the ungodly early hour of 5 pm and doesn't rise again until a bit after 7 the next morning, and I want to go hiking.
I love hiking. Min Gi and I went hiking on our first date and have been hiking on many mountains in the area since then. I had a plan to hike two of the biggest mountains in South Korea before I left, but alas, my health problems have made hiking pretty much impossible for the last few months. It has been hurting our relationship a little, although thankfully we've learned through this illness that we're a pretty strong unit.
Last night, I had a dream that we went hiking. We were the only two people on the mountain. When we got to the top, it was a glorious, deep sky blue, not a cloud in sight, and we could see spreading green below us for miles and miles. I woke up sad--mourning for my lost ability to go more than 50 meters uphill without breathing heavily, for that feeling of peace at the top of a mountain (I wonder if there is a word in Korean for that feeling... I know there's one for the color--푸르디푸른)
Recovering from an illness is daunting. I remember being healthy, but being so obsessed with the 10kgs I wanted to lose that I never appreciated it. My body used to be so strong. And strength is beautiful. The last few weeks have been hard not only because I can't exercise as I want, but because when I look in the mirror, for the first time since high school, I truly hate what I see reflected back at me.
Alas, this is my last week on the prednisone. My moon face is "waning." I have been able to exercise and dance the last few weeks. I just have to stop being depressed that I can't instantly do all the stuff I used to do. I have to accept that it will take time to be able to kick that high, run that far, and climb that mountain, again.
Patience, when the day is this short and the air this cold, is hard.
I hate winter.
I love hiking. Min Gi and I went hiking on our first date and have been hiking on many mountains in the area since then. I had a plan to hike two of the biggest mountains in South Korea before I left, but alas, my health problems have made hiking pretty much impossible for the last few months. It has been hurting our relationship a little, although thankfully we've learned through this illness that we're a pretty strong unit.
Last night, I had a dream that we went hiking. We were the only two people on the mountain. When we got to the top, it was a glorious, deep sky blue, not a cloud in sight, and we could see spreading green below us for miles and miles. I woke up sad--mourning for my lost ability to go more than 50 meters uphill without breathing heavily, for that feeling of peace at the top of a mountain (I wonder if there is a word in Korean for that feeling... I know there's one for the color--푸르디푸른)
Recovering from an illness is daunting. I remember being healthy, but being so obsessed with the 10kgs I wanted to lose that I never appreciated it. My body used to be so strong. And strength is beautiful. The last few weeks have been hard not only because I can't exercise as I want, but because when I look in the mirror, for the first time since high school, I truly hate what I see reflected back at me.
Alas, this is my last week on the prednisone. My moon face is "waning." I have been able to exercise and dance the last few weeks. I just have to stop being depressed that I can't instantly do all the stuff I used to do. I have to accept that it will take time to be able to kick that high, run that far, and climb that mountain, again.
Patience, when the day is this short and the air this cold, is hard.
I hate winter.
Friday, December 4, 2009
Pre-wedding discussions.
"How many kids do you want to have?"
He thinks about this a minute. "Well... I don't know if my brother will have kids, so we should have more than two."
"What does that have to do with us?"
"It is family!"
"Um... so you're going to be a stay-at-home dad and raise our hundreds of children we must have to carry on the family name?"
He thinks about this. "But I want to work."
"So do I." Commence silly staring contest, both of us struggle not to laugh. I win.
"Ok. Maybe I will stay home. Will you still cook?"
"Sure."
He thinks about this a minute. "Well... I don't know if my brother will have kids, so we should have more than two."
"What does that have to do with us?"
"It is family!"
"Um... so you're going to be a stay-at-home dad and raise our hundreds of children we must have to carry on the family name?"
He thinks about this. "But I want to work."
"So do I." Commence silly staring contest, both of us struggle not to laugh. I win.
"Ok. Maybe I will stay home. Will you still cook?"
"Sure."
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Korean "Core Values"
I've blogged about my American Culture co-teaching class this year multiple times. It's been a big challenge for me, since I'm not really trained as a social studies teacher, but also the class I've learned the most from teaching this year.
In class, we've been using a textbook, American Ways: An Introduction to American Culture by Maryanne Kearny Datesman, JoAnn Crandall, and Edward N. Kearny, that asserts three basic "core values" that traditionally all Americans share and value and three consequences of those values that also have become essential defining characteristics of American culture. Although not all-encompassing, I believe that they are a fair assessment of traditional American ideology.
The values are individual freedom, equality of opportunity, and the pursuit of material wealth (I would probably call this "prosperity," as the American Dream is not exclusively about materialism, but whatever) and the three American traits that stem from these values are self-reliance, competition, and hard work, respectively. Say what you will and feel free to disagree, but most Americans (myself included) hold most of these values near and dear--especially individual freedom and self-reliance.
Throughout the year we have studied how these values help us understand the features of American culture, such as religion, family, education, and diversity. It's been a nice framework for the students because it was a way to connect each individual unit together (something not commonly done in Korean courses where students tend to memorize for a test and then promptly forget everything they've learned). Sometimes we've had to introduce new values (such as "can-do" optimism and inventiveness), but generally they were either not as essential to the American character or they were not really as universal for Americans.
The last chapter in the text deals with the future of these values (which have, of course, changed slightly from how they were originally conceived) and modern challenges to America (such as health care and illegal immigrants). Reflecting on the idea that one of the main reasons to study another culture is to learn about our own, I asked the students this week to come up with Korea's "Core Values."
I was impressed. These kids have moved from thinking about Korean culture in terms of "kimchi" and "hangeul" at the beginning of the year, to being able to express and reasonably explain in a very thoughtful, critical way the main precepts that create the Korean identity. This week, I've learned a lot about Korean culture from these bright budding young sociologists and anthropologists--some things I already knew, but hadn't really found a clear way to express. For example, this post from a little over a year ago sums up a lot of my thoughts along these lines.
So, from the mouths of babes, here are some of the core values they identified, along with my attempt to re-create their explanation of it:
1. Confucianism/Neo-Confucianism -- The influence of Confucian values, such as respecting elders (they often called this a separate value of "Politeness" or "Courtesy," defining relationships (and the obligations within that relationship) clearly and hierarchically, and the prizing of scholarship as a mark of success were all cited by students as part of Korean values from the Joseon dynasty and could be a problem in the 21st century as the population ages (due to a low birth rate).
2. Sense of Community/Jeong (정, hanja: 情)/Cooperation -- This concept, students explained, comes from Korea's agricultural roots where the community would share their land to grow food and divide food according to the needs of the families in the community. In modern times, students pointed out that this leads to Korean people actively seeking group relationships and maintaining these networks with great care and that, if taken too far, sometimes creates the pervasive regionalism in politics and tendency for companies to only ever hire graduates of one or two universities. (Although many students were quick to point out that South Korea is NOT Communist, I do think that perhaps the existence of this concept in both Koreas' histories probably provided some fertile ground for Marxist ideals back in the 40s and 50s.)
3. Patriotism/Korean National Identity -- This is one of the more modern values they identified, although many students also connected it back to Confucianism. Like #2 where Koreans value group identity, they see the nation of Korea (well, South Korea... and sometimes if the political rhetoric suits the occasion, unified Korea) as one big group. Therefore, the successes and failures of each Korean personally affects Koreans more than it might other nationalities. This value was blamed for the homogeneity and racism that sometimes manifest here, but also cited as inspiring the unparalleled national and economic development of South Korea over the last 60 years.
Other contenders for a "core value" were: Education Fever/Eagerness (one student argued that this might come from a false belief that education means equal opportunity), The Faster the Better (빨리 빨리)/Convenience, Diligence/Hard Work, Conservatism/Traditions/Love for "Original" Things, and Family/Child-centered.
Not the work of a Ph.D. scholar, but not bad for high school kids in a 20 minute discussion group.
In strangely related news, the Korean expat blogosphere (yes, this is a thing that actually exists... like some grotesque hybrid between real blogging and the insanity that is Korean internet culture, which I briefly discussed in this post), has been a-twitter with the proposal by one politician to require a Korean culture class for foreign teachers issued an E-2 visa. If you are curious about the issue and subsequent "netizen" attempts to blow this issue out of all proportion, I recommend Brian's entry about the subject.
Perhaps we should enlist my students to write the curriculum.
In class, we've been using a textbook, American Ways: An Introduction to American Culture by Maryanne Kearny Datesman, JoAnn Crandall, and Edward N. Kearny, that asserts three basic "core values" that traditionally all Americans share and value and three consequences of those values that also have become essential defining characteristics of American culture. Although not all-encompassing, I believe that they are a fair assessment of traditional American ideology.
The values are individual freedom, equality of opportunity, and the pursuit of material wealth (I would probably call this "prosperity," as the American Dream is not exclusively about materialism, but whatever) and the three American traits that stem from these values are self-reliance, competition, and hard work, respectively. Say what you will and feel free to disagree, but most Americans (myself included) hold most of these values near and dear--especially individual freedom and self-reliance.
Throughout the year we have studied how these values help us understand the features of American culture, such as religion, family, education, and diversity. It's been a nice framework for the students because it was a way to connect each individual unit together (something not commonly done in Korean courses where students tend to memorize for a test and then promptly forget everything they've learned). Sometimes we've had to introduce new values (such as "can-do" optimism and inventiveness), but generally they were either not as essential to the American character or they were not really as universal for Americans.
The last chapter in the text deals with the future of these values (which have, of course, changed slightly from how they were originally conceived) and modern challenges to America (such as health care and illegal immigrants). Reflecting on the idea that one of the main reasons to study another culture is to learn about our own, I asked the students this week to come up with Korea's "Core Values."
I was impressed. These kids have moved from thinking about Korean culture in terms of "kimchi" and "hangeul" at the beginning of the year, to being able to express and reasonably explain in a very thoughtful, critical way the main precepts that create the Korean identity. This week, I've learned a lot about Korean culture from these bright budding young sociologists and anthropologists--some things I already knew, but hadn't really found a clear way to express. For example, this post from a little over a year ago sums up a lot of my thoughts along these lines.
So, from the mouths of babes, here are some of the core values they identified, along with my attempt to re-create their explanation of it:
1. Confucianism/Neo-Confucianism -- The influence of Confucian values, such as respecting elders (they often called this a separate value of "Politeness" or "Courtesy," defining relationships (and the obligations within that relationship) clearly and hierarchically, and the prizing of scholarship as a mark of success were all cited by students as part of Korean values from the Joseon dynasty and could be a problem in the 21st century as the population ages (due to a low birth rate).
2. Sense of Community/Jeong (정, hanja: 情)/Cooperation -- This concept, students explained, comes from Korea's agricultural roots where the community would share their land to grow food and divide food according to the needs of the families in the community. In modern times, students pointed out that this leads to Korean people actively seeking group relationships and maintaining these networks with great care and that, if taken too far, sometimes creates the pervasive regionalism in politics and tendency for companies to only ever hire graduates of one or two universities. (Although many students were quick to point out that South Korea is NOT Communist, I do think that perhaps the existence of this concept in both Koreas' histories probably provided some fertile ground for Marxist ideals back in the 40s and 50s.)
3. Patriotism/Korean National Identity -- This is one of the more modern values they identified, although many students also connected it back to Confucianism. Like #2 where Koreans value group identity, they see the nation of Korea (well, South Korea... and sometimes if the political rhetoric suits the occasion, unified Korea) as one big group. Therefore, the successes and failures of each Korean personally affects Koreans more than it might other nationalities. This value was blamed for the homogeneity and racism that sometimes manifest here, but also cited as inspiring the unparalleled national and economic development of South Korea over the last 60 years.
Other contenders for a "core value" were: Education Fever/Eagerness (one student argued that this might come from a false belief that education means equal opportunity), The Faster the Better (빨리 빨리)/Convenience, Diligence/Hard Work, Conservatism/Traditions/Love for "Original" Things, and Family/Child-centered.
Not the work of a Ph.D. scholar, but not bad for high school kids in a 20 minute discussion group.
In strangely related news, the Korean expat blogosphere (yes, this is a thing that actually exists... like some grotesque hybrid between real blogging and the insanity that is Korean internet culture, which I briefly discussed in this post), has been a-twitter with the proposal by one politician to require a Korean culture class for foreign teachers issued an E-2 visa. If you are curious about the issue and subsequent "netizen" attempts to blow this issue out of all proportion, I recommend Brian's entry about the subject.
Perhaps we should enlist my students to write the curriculum.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Small Victories.
Well, it's the end of November. Just one month left in 2009.
I returned to TKD this evening after more than two months away. My leg hurts a lot, but it's nice to be able to work out again, even if it's still less than what I was able to do before. I hope to recover by resting well tonight and then going back again tomorrow.
I plan to continue the MWF yoga (although I skipped it this morning because of a monster headache).
The wedding plans are coming together. It's pretty exciting. I'm looking forward to seeing my family and showing them this place that's been my home for the last two and half years. I know they'll love it, though perhaps not as much as I do.
Wow, the leg really hurts. Time to heat it.
I returned to TKD this evening after more than two months away. My leg hurts a lot, but it's nice to be able to work out again, even if it's still less than what I was able to do before. I hope to recover by resting well tonight and then going back again tomorrow.
I plan to continue the MWF yoga (although I skipped it this morning because of a monster headache).
The wedding plans are coming together. It's pretty exciting. I'm looking forward to seeing my family and showing them this place that's been my home for the last two and half years. I know they'll love it, though perhaps not as much as I do.
Wow, the leg really hurts. Time to heat it.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Cooking for my In-Laws.
Today, Min Gi and I invited his mom, brother, and sister-in-law over to our place for lunch. As I said earlier, I love cooking for Min Gi, but cooking for your future Korean mother-in-law is a daunting task. Especially since this was just our second time meeting.
Jeanny posted earlier this week about the differences between Koreans' and Americans' approach to food, and I agree with her general assessment that Koreans just have this worship of food that Americans are lacking, possibly due to our love of convenience and speed. So, I am at a disadvantage here, being non-Korean, growing up with (very busy) American parents who always made sure we were fed, but didn't really make that much from scratch (the main exception being my dad's weekend breakfasts, which are heavenly).
I decided I would make a version of tofu-soybean-paste soup (된장국) that I often make that I taught myself my first year living in Korea, rice (of course), a Korean noodle dish using sweet potato noodles called japchae (잡채) which I had never made before nor witnessed being made, and a Korean style green onion fried pancake called pajeon (파전) which I had also never made before, but watched Min Gi make it ages ago. I spent the morning cooking (while Min Gi slept off his hangover--eyes rolling), and still was pretty nervous cooking all Korean food for Koreans, while modifying it to be vegetarian.
I based my own recipe for japchae largely off of this recipe, as it had lots of veggies, and I am pro-vegetable. However, attempting a dish you've never seen made before is tough, so I am much indebted to Jeanny, Amanda, William, and this blogger of "Korean Cuisine" (who also inspired me to use up the last of the broccoli in my fridge and get some shiitake mushrooms to make two dishes of unplanned Korean side dishes--banchan) for their advice and pictures/recipes about making japchae.
Our guests arrived 30 minutes early (wow! luckily I was nearly finished), so I didn't get a chance to take a picture of the soup or the pajeon (which came out a little underdone, but still yummy and the sauce recipe from this site was pretty tasty) because everyone DEVOURED the food in a short time. They genuinely seemed to enjoy it, and I got many compliments from his brother (Min Soo) and sister-in-law (In-Shil). They had Min Gi help them be able to say "Excellent!" (to clarify In-Shil made hand gestures for "Good, Great, Wonderful, Excellent" with "Excellent" being at the top).
Min Gi's Mom (who I will call Ohmma in this blog as it is what we call her--the Korean word for "Mom") kept trying to help, but we finally got her to relax and enjoy the meal. She seemed impressed that I'd cooked Korean food at all. After we began eating she launched into a speech to In-Shil and I about how happy and lucky she is to have such nice girls for daughters-in-law. I was moved. As the meal progressed (and I assure you that I also found it quite delicious), I began to feel like I was having the Thanksgiving gathering that I had missed so much on Thursday.
And just like that... Min Gi's family is becoming my family, too.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Hospital Series: Admission
I've been out about a month now. I no longer have bruises on my hands from the IV sites. I can walk up a flight of stairs again (actually all four at school) without getting winded. However, I want to capture what my 10 days in the hospital were like. I will collect all of these, as an essay, eventually under the title "The Thinking Bed," but as few expat bloggers (thankfully) get the full-on life in a Korean hospital experience, I thought you might like to see some of the early drafts:
"It's your 'thinking bed.'" Min Gi smiles as he rolls the lever to lower the hard metal hospital bed into a position to prepare me for sleep. I can see the worry lines forming under his grey wool cap. They are not natural. They are my fault.
"What do you mean? I'm so tired and so hungry, I can't think." Hungry is the wrong word. I have not eaten food in four days. The white lipid solution hooked permanently into a tender vein on my right hand keeps me from feeling the need for oral nutrition, but the desire for food--the sensual dreams about eggplant and pasta, the urgent need to tear off the head of my roommate's five-year-old granddaughter to steal her pastry, the incredible loneliness of hospital life without even the punctuation of meals to break up the intolerable tedium--it gets to me.
Again, he smiles, and touches my hand. "You'll see. When you feel better, you'll see."
***
I have a condition called ulcerative colitis. It's been manageable since I first got it in May, but October was a stressful month, and the condition has worsened to the point that I'm in what's called a "severe flare," characterized by 10-15 bowel movements a day with the presence of blood and mucous. I also have a fever and constant pain associated with the inflammation in my colon. It is difficult to maintain nutrition and hydration with this condition, and so I am lethargic. The doctor has tried to treat the condition with oral steroids, but it is not working, so I agree to enter the hospital for him to treat me (he wanted to admit me Friday, but I was worried about missing work so I gave the drugs one more weekend to work; they didn't).
I'm terrified. Although Keimyung University's Dongsan Hospital has a wonderful international clinic, I know that I'll probably be the only foreigner admitted to the hospital. That all the things about living in Korea that are difficult--the language barrier, the staring, the outsider-ness--will be worse and I'm so sick that I don't even know if I can communicate in this language I've been studying. And even apart from the expatriate issues, hospitals themselves are cold and institutional. I'll be at the mercy of doctors and nurses, in the way a prisoner might be at the hands of a warden.
I'm also paranoid about my job. I have good relationships there and an official 15 paid sick days in the contract, but I know foreign teachers who have been fired for a lot less than taking a few days of necessary sick leave. Korea has a strange attitude towards health--both prizing it highly and refusing to miss even one day of work to recover. It seems that most people in Korea either take one day off or six months off--nothing in between for illness.
I feel guilt, too. Because I've been sick for two weeks already, I know my job performance has been off its usual game. And when I go into the hospital, William will have to cover everything for me. It's not fair to him--and I'm really angry at myself that there's nothing I can do to help this.
But since I'm already a victim of my own body, I finally judge that my health is too important. One of the vows I will promise to Min Gi in two months with be to "take care of myself and my responsibilities, so that I can take care of you and our family." In the end, it is this promise that I must fulfill. I can't work if I don't get better.
***
Day 1--Monday, October 12
At five a.m., I send a pathetic e-mail to my co-teachers telling them of my situation and asking for a ride to the hospital in the morning. I pack a bag with some fresh underwear, books, a towel and shower shoes, and my laptop (loaded up with TV shows and movies). At nine a.m., I call the international clinic to ask them about my situation. Nurse Kim consults my GI doctor, Professor Kim, who instructs me to be admitted through the ER for testing until a bed becomes available.
Ms. Lim, my amazing co-teacher of American Culture, takes her lunch to drive me to the ER. She is worried. I babble on and on about how scared I am and the disease and how sorry I am that she has to cover my classes alone. She wishes me a speedy recovery and returns to work.
At 10:30, Nurse Kim escorts me to the ER. The ER is mostly empty at this time. There are a few ajumma and ajosshi in hiking clothes helping one another with minor injuries sustained on the mountains that morning. Nurse Kim finds a resident whose English is passable--her name is Yoon Young, though I don't call her this--and explains my situation. Yoon Young quickly and efficiently moves me through a barrage of tests--bloodwork, x-ray, EKG--and hooks me up to an IV to maintain my hydration and tells me not to eat or drink anything else. The nurses in the ER are efficient, but whenever they touch me with a needle, it hurts. A lot. My left hand is so bruised from the blood culture test that it swells up purple. At this point, I'm feeling so low and tired that I don't even care that I can't eat or drink.
Around noon, a translator from the international clinic comes by to explain that, in order to be admitted, I need to have a Korean person sign a responsibility of payment form.
"But I'm going to pay for myself."
"It is hospital policy. Can your fiance or his mom come sign?" His mom???
I call Min Gi and hand her the phone. He has to leave work to come be responsible for me, the stupid foreigner. I'm kind of angry about this (is my word not good enough? I'm a resident here!), but decide to just let it go.
Min Gi takes care of all the paperwork and stops by to see me around 1:30 p.m. I'm on a curtained-off, uncomfortable bed with a painful IV drip in my hand, wishing I could sleep for more than five minutes at a time. I don't really remember what he says or does, but I remember being grateful to him. So grateful. He promises to come by again later.
The nurses start the enemas in the afternoon. Humiliation doesn't begin to cover my afternoon spent getting the nurses to help escort me back and forth to the tiny guest toilet in the ER waiting room and then grimacing in pain for hours on the bed.
A few times I ask about when I'll be admitted. The translator returns to ask about what kind of room I want. A standard room holds 6-8 patients. For many, many reasons (not the least of which is that I need freer access to a toilet nearby considering why I'm being admitted, nor do I wish to be the object of amusement as a foreigner in a room of 50-70 year old Korean women and all their thousands of visitors), I don't want the standard room. The translator discusses the prices of private rooms (between 140,000 and 400,000 won/night--no thanks!) and 2- and 3- bed rooms. I decide it's worth it to pay 70,000 won/night to have only one roommate.
Min Gi disagrees when I call him to discuss it, but I reassure him that even though he signed the papers that afternoon, I have the money from my airfare reimbursement and "severance" bonus from my contract renewal, and that it is worth it to me. It's our wedding budget. Oh well, I guess we just won't get to do anything fun this winter. It's going to be ok. (In the back of my mind: Unless you lose your job because of this.)
In the evening, the ER gets busy. I hear wheezing not 10 inches beyond the curtain next to my head. A woman cries while she vomits on the floor two beds over. I hear her husband call for a nurse to clean it up. People in various states of injury are wheeled in and out.
At around 4:30, I begin to panic that my doctor will leave for the day before he sees me. I'm getting weak from not eating or taking my meds and having so much exiting my body every 20-30 minutes. I call over a nurse who checks my IV. It's not filled up as much as she'd like so she pumps at one of the levers and pain shoots down my veins, paralyzing my arm. I cry out. She gives me a sympathetic, but all-business look and brings over Yoon Young.
She checks my chart. "You will get a sigmoidoscope."
"When?" I manage. My voice sounds weak.
"Soon." She walks away quickly.
About 30 minutes later, an orderly arrives and starts to move my bed through the now-emptied hallways of the hospital. The orderly doesn't say a word to me. Just hands me my IV bags to hold for the trip. I've been in this part so many times for my regular checkups with the GI doctor, but now it looks haunted and menacing as I stare at the ceiling from my gurney. The people who attached the ceiling tiles didn't evenly space the tacks that are holding them in. There are chaotic and random triangles of every different size and angle at each new joint.
I cannot, I will not, I do not want to tell you about the sigmoidoscopy. I have never felt such pain in my life. I was crying and moaning the whole time. Humiliation is the worst part of this disease. Pain is usually second place to that. But honestly, during those 10 minutes, I didn't even care that I was being anally raped by a video camera--I just wanted the pain to stop. I would have done anything, been anything, paid anything for it to end. I felt bad for how awful I must have made that technician feel.
I lay staring at the chaos triangle patterns on the ceiling, defeated.
The orderly took me back to the ER. I saw a man being rushed through the door as the nurses and doctors were performing CPR on him. I knew he was going to die. I didn't care. Min Gi came. I didn't care.
A sobbing boy of about 11 was lying in the next bed over with his parents. He had broken his leg. The doctor began to remove the old dressing and reset it for a new cast. The boy began screaming with pain. His screams echoed inside my ulcerated colon. Every time he wailed, waves of pain radiated through my digestive tract. I couldn't take it anymore. My apathy broke, and I hated this boy. This 11-year-old boy in agonizing pain and his terrified parents. I wanted them to go away. I hated them. I told Min Gi to get me admitted to a bed, NOW.
Pain makes me a mean, petty, hateful person. I don't like it.
Somehow, by 7:30, Min Gi had achieved what I had failed to for the last 9 hours and got someone from the GI department to see me--a young Dr. Park, a tubby, enthusiastic resident whose English was passable, though not as good as Yoon Young's, and who giggled every time he got frustrated trying to explain something to me in English, though patiently persevered until the communication was successful.
Within 20 minutes of my consultation with Dr. Park, I was out of the ER, whisked away to the sixth floor, and changed into the unflattering but comfortable hospital uniform, where a tall, friendly nurse was taking my vitals and explaining the brochure about the rules of the hospital ward to Min Gi.
In the quiet of the semi-private room I now shared with a 60-something pre-op ajumma, my body began to release the child's screams, the probing camera, the proximity to death and illness that was the emergency room. I began to relax.
Suddenly I was hungry. And tired.
Next installment: Room 6012.
"It's your 'thinking bed.'" Min Gi smiles as he rolls the lever to lower the hard metal hospital bed into a position to prepare me for sleep. I can see the worry lines forming under his grey wool cap. They are not natural. They are my fault.
"What do you mean? I'm so tired and so hungry, I can't think." Hungry is the wrong word. I have not eaten food in four days. The white lipid solution hooked permanently into a tender vein on my right hand keeps me from feeling the need for oral nutrition, but the desire for food--the sensual dreams about eggplant and pasta, the urgent need to tear off the head of my roommate's five-year-old granddaughter to steal her pastry, the incredible loneliness of hospital life without even the punctuation of meals to break up the intolerable tedium--it gets to me.
Again, he smiles, and touches my hand. "You'll see. When you feel better, you'll see."
***
I have a condition called ulcerative colitis. It's been manageable since I first got it in May, but October was a stressful month, and the condition has worsened to the point that I'm in what's called a "severe flare," characterized by 10-15 bowel movements a day with the presence of blood and mucous. I also have a fever and constant pain associated with the inflammation in my colon. It is difficult to maintain nutrition and hydration with this condition, and so I am lethargic. The doctor has tried to treat the condition with oral steroids, but it is not working, so I agree to enter the hospital for him to treat me (he wanted to admit me Friday, but I was worried about missing work so I gave the drugs one more weekend to work; they didn't).
I'm terrified. Although Keimyung University's Dongsan Hospital has a wonderful international clinic, I know that I'll probably be the only foreigner admitted to the hospital. That all the things about living in Korea that are difficult--the language barrier, the staring, the outsider-ness--will be worse and I'm so sick that I don't even know if I can communicate in this language I've been studying. And even apart from the expatriate issues, hospitals themselves are cold and institutional. I'll be at the mercy of doctors and nurses, in the way a prisoner might be at the hands of a warden.
I'm also paranoid about my job. I have good relationships there and an official 15 paid sick days in the contract, but I know foreign teachers who have been fired for a lot less than taking a few days of necessary sick leave. Korea has a strange attitude towards health--both prizing it highly and refusing to miss even one day of work to recover. It seems that most people in Korea either take one day off or six months off--nothing in between for illness.
I feel guilt, too. Because I've been sick for two weeks already, I know my job performance has been off its usual game. And when I go into the hospital, William will have to cover everything for me. It's not fair to him--and I'm really angry at myself that there's nothing I can do to help this.
But since I'm already a victim of my own body, I finally judge that my health is too important. One of the vows I will promise to Min Gi in two months with be to "take care of myself and my responsibilities, so that I can take care of you and our family." In the end, it is this promise that I must fulfill. I can't work if I don't get better.
***
Day 1--Monday, October 12
At five a.m., I send a pathetic e-mail to my co-teachers telling them of my situation and asking for a ride to the hospital in the morning. I pack a bag with some fresh underwear, books, a towel and shower shoes, and my laptop (loaded up with TV shows and movies). At nine a.m., I call the international clinic to ask them about my situation. Nurse Kim consults my GI doctor, Professor Kim, who instructs me to be admitted through the ER for testing until a bed becomes available.
Ms. Lim, my amazing co-teacher of American Culture, takes her lunch to drive me to the ER. She is worried. I babble on and on about how scared I am and the disease and how sorry I am that she has to cover my classes alone. She wishes me a speedy recovery and returns to work.
At 10:30, Nurse Kim escorts me to the ER. The ER is mostly empty at this time. There are a few ajumma and ajosshi in hiking clothes helping one another with minor injuries sustained on the mountains that morning. Nurse Kim finds a resident whose English is passable--her name is Yoon Young, though I don't call her this--and explains my situation. Yoon Young quickly and efficiently moves me through a barrage of tests--bloodwork, x-ray, EKG--and hooks me up to an IV to maintain my hydration and tells me not to eat or drink anything else. The nurses in the ER are efficient, but whenever they touch me with a needle, it hurts. A lot. My left hand is so bruised from the blood culture test that it swells up purple. At this point, I'm feeling so low and tired that I don't even care that I can't eat or drink.
Around noon, a translator from the international clinic comes by to explain that, in order to be admitted, I need to have a Korean person sign a responsibility of payment form.
"But I'm going to pay for myself."
"It is hospital policy. Can your fiance or his mom come sign?" His mom???
I call Min Gi and hand her the phone. He has to leave work to come be responsible for me, the stupid foreigner. I'm kind of angry about this (is my word not good enough? I'm a resident here!), but decide to just let it go.
Min Gi takes care of all the paperwork and stops by to see me around 1:30 p.m. I'm on a curtained-off, uncomfortable bed with a painful IV drip in my hand, wishing I could sleep for more than five minutes at a time. I don't really remember what he says or does, but I remember being grateful to him. So grateful. He promises to come by again later.
The nurses start the enemas in the afternoon. Humiliation doesn't begin to cover my afternoon spent getting the nurses to help escort me back and forth to the tiny guest toilet in the ER waiting room and then grimacing in pain for hours on the bed.
A few times I ask about when I'll be admitted. The translator returns to ask about what kind of room I want. A standard room holds 6-8 patients. For many, many reasons (not the least of which is that I need freer access to a toilet nearby considering why I'm being admitted, nor do I wish to be the object of amusement as a foreigner in a room of 50-70 year old Korean women and all their thousands of visitors), I don't want the standard room. The translator discusses the prices of private rooms (between 140,000 and 400,000 won/night--no thanks!) and 2- and 3- bed rooms. I decide it's worth it to pay 70,000 won/night to have only one roommate.
Min Gi disagrees when I call him to discuss it, but I reassure him that even though he signed the papers that afternoon, I have the money from my airfare reimbursement and "severance" bonus from my contract renewal, and that it is worth it to me. It's our wedding budget. Oh well, I guess we just won't get to do anything fun this winter. It's going to be ok. (In the back of my mind: Unless you lose your job because of this.)
In the evening, the ER gets busy. I hear wheezing not 10 inches beyond the curtain next to my head. A woman cries while she vomits on the floor two beds over. I hear her husband call for a nurse to clean it up. People in various states of injury are wheeled in and out.
At around 4:30, I begin to panic that my doctor will leave for the day before he sees me. I'm getting weak from not eating or taking my meds and having so much exiting my body every 20-30 minutes. I call over a nurse who checks my IV. It's not filled up as much as she'd like so she pumps at one of the levers and pain shoots down my veins, paralyzing my arm. I cry out. She gives me a sympathetic, but all-business look and brings over Yoon Young.
She checks my chart. "You will get a sigmoidoscope."
"When?" I manage. My voice sounds weak.
"Soon." She walks away quickly.
About 30 minutes later, an orderly arrives and starts to move my bed through the now-emptied hallways of the hospital. The orderly doesn't say a word to me. Just hands me my IV bags to hold for the trip. I've been in this part so many times for my regular checkups with the GI doctor, but now it looks haunted and menacing as I stare at the ceiling from my gurney. The people who attached the ceiling tiles didn't evenly space the tacks that are holding them in. There are chaotic and random triangles of every different size and angle at each new joint.
I cannot, I will not, I do not want to tell you about the sigmoidoscopy. I have never felt such pain in my life. I was crying and moaning the whole time. Humiliation is the worst part of this disease. Pain is usually second place to that. But honestly, during those 10 minutes, I didn't even care that I was being anally raped by a video camera--I just wanted the pain to stop. I would have done anything, been anything, paid anything for it to end. I felt bad for how awful I must have made that technician feel.
I lay staring at the chaos triangle patterns on the ceiling, defeated.
The orderly took me back to the ER. I saw a man being rushed through the door as the nurses and doctors were performing CPR on him. I knew he was going to die. I didn't care. Min Gi came. I didn't care.
A sobbing boy of about 11 was lying in the next bed over with his parents. He had broken his leg. The doctor began to remove the old dressing and reset it for a new cast. The boy began screaming with pain. His screams echoed inside my ulcerated colon. Every time he wailed, waves of pain radiated through my digestive tract. I couldn't take it anymore. My apathy broke, and I hated this boy. This 11-year-old boy in agonizing pain and his terrified parents. I wanted them to go away. I hated them. I told Min Gi to get me admitted to a bed, NOW.
Pain makes me a mean, petty, hateful person. I don't like it.
Somehow, by 7:30, Min Gi had achieved what I had failed to for the last 9 hours and got someone from the GI department to see me--a young Dr. Park, a tubby, enthusiastic resident whose English was passable, though not as good as Yoon Young's, and who giggled every time he got frustrated trying to explain something to me in English, though patiently persevered until the communication was successful.
Within 20 minutes of my consultation with Dr. Park, I was out of the ER, whisked away to the sixth floor, and changed into the unflattering but comfortable hospital uniform, where a tall, friendly nurse was taking my vitals and explaining the brochure about the rules of the hospital ward to Min Gi.
In the quiet of the semi-private room I now shared with a 60-something pre-op ajumma, my body began to release the child's screams, the probing camera, the proximity to death and illness that was the emergency room. I began to relax.
Suddenly I was hungry. And tired.
Next installment: Room 6012.
Thursday, November 26, 2009
It's hard to be thankful this year...
...when you got diagnosed with an incurable disease.
(I am thankful that my health is recovering).
...when your fiance leaves you alone in a foreign country on a holiday because he's having dinner with co-workers, and you're lonely and sad.
(I am thankful for Min Gi--truly, he's amazing).
...when your family has faced more than their fair share of health crises this year.
(I am thankful my dad is now cancer-free and mom is recovering from both of her September surgeries).
...when you get hit on the head with a plastic gavel by one of your favorite, but highly misguided students who lost his mock-trial case for lack of preparation.
(I am thankful for my job which makes me laugh).
...when the world economy crashes and ruins your plans to get out of debt once and for all.
(I am thankful the Korean economy is recovering and the exchange rate is finally more reasonable).
Yes, guys... it's been a rough year. I remain hopeful that with a marriage in January, awesome honeymoon in February, and a big repatriation adventure for August and beyond, 2010 will leave me with a lot more to be thankful for. Don't get me wrong, I AM grateful for the good things in my life, but darnit... it can be tough sometimes.
(I am thankful that my health is recovering).
...when your fiance leaves you alone in a foreign country on a holiday because he's having dinner with co-workers, and you're lonely and sad.
(I am thankful for Min Gi--truly, he's amazing).
...when your family has faced more than their fair share of health crises this year.
(I am thankful my dad is now cancer-free and mom is recovering from both of her September surgeries).
...when you get hit on the head with a plastic gavel by one of your favorite, but highly misguided students who lost his mock-trial case for lack of preparation.
(I am thankful for my job which makes me laugh).
...when the world economy crashes and ruins your plans to get out of debt once and for all.
(I am thankful the Korean economy is recovering and the exchange rate is finally more reasonable).
Yes, guys... it's been a rough year. I remain hopeful that with a marriage in January, awesome honeymoon in February, and a big repatriation adventure for August and beyond, 2010 will leave me with a lot more to be thankful for. Don't get me wrong, I AM grateful for the good things in my life, but darnit... it can be tough sometimes.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
What's for dinner?
As I said in my previous post, I'm really enjoying cooking healthy meals for my biggest fan, Min Gi. However, cooking in Korea can be a lot of scouring for ingredients and finding deliciously acceptable substitutions. My creations are usually veggie-heavy and a mix of different cooking techniques and various spices I've accumulated in my kitchen (most are from Costco or the Global Market next to Keimyung University--they have so many Indian ingredients and Southeast Asian stuff--it is AWESOME).
This week, I made my second attempt a Spanish-style lentil stew, loosely based on this recipe. The first had come out a little bitter (perhaps not enough tomatoes and too much vinegar). However, this batch was AWESOME--I wish I'd taken pics, but it was so delicious, we just ate it all.
So what's for dinner tonight?
Vegetable Curry.
I fried up an onion and some mushrooms with garlic and tons of Indian spices (curry powder, coriander, turmeric, cumin, and cinnamon), then boiled it in a small amount of water with some cubed potatoes, carrots, and zucchini. I added broccoli and tomatoes a little later, transferred it back to the fry pan and cooked until the broth was thicker.
The result? Delicious.
Now if only Min Gi will show up to help me eat it! Darn him and working later and farther away than me!!!
This week, I made my second attempt a Spanish-style lentil stew, loosely based on this recipe. The first had come out a little bitter (perhaps not enough tomatoes and too much vinegar). However, this batch was AWESOME--I wish I'd taken pics, but it was so delicious, we just ate it all.
So what's for dinner tonight?
I fried up an onion and some mushrooms with garlic and tons of Indian spices (curry powder, coriander, turmeric, cumin, and cinnamon), then boiled it in a small amount of water with some cubed potatoes, carrots, and zucchini. I added broccoli and tomatoes a little later, transferred it back to the fry pan and cooked until the broth was thicker.
Now if only Min Gi will show up to help me eat it! Darn him and working later and farther away than me!!!
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