A couple of nights ago, I was struck with a pretty bad fever. Me and the Meg were readying ourselves for the bedtime when all of a sudden my nerves when CRAZY! Everything from my waist up was shivering uncontrollably. My jaw muscles were crazy tight - I'd never heard, or felt, my teeth rattle like that, it was scary. I laid down next to Meg and she helped calm me down. Later that night, Meg checked my temperature and the thermometer read 38.7. Now that's Celsius and translates to about a 102 in Fahrenheit, if we round off. I kicked the blankets off and that cooled me down. By the time I woke up, I was a 37.4C/99F. I decided that to go out to work was not out of the question. I was a little achy, but fine.
This pleased not the Megumi. Poor girl was worried, even though I said I was fine. She thought it was the flu and that I was going to end up killing the entire Web School Staff. After work, we went to a clinic, which was an interesting adventure.
First of all, just like any clinic in Japan, one must remove their shoes, and put on some slippers. This is not necessarily a problem, but the clinic was full and getting around all those piles of shoes spread about the entrance way - climbing Everest must not be so tough. I felt bad for all the old ladies who had trouble walking already, then had to learn acrobatics real fast to get their own loafers.
The clinic itself was in no way contradictory to what is ingrained into the collective image of society. It was cramped with three long, vinyl couches of the most uncomfortable nature, and of the not so nicest colors. The floor was 'well-traveled' and the lights...oh, the lights. Fluorescent lights that barely lit the time room, and made everyone look sicker that they probably were. No space was wasted, as people crammed themselves into whatever piece of land they could find.
The Japanese answer to any sickness is the IV. Do they love their IV treatments. Old ladies, whose skin looks as though it'll tear open with a single sneeze, pressing cotton over their bleeding punctures holes. Delicious. Now Meg has admitted that when she first went to that particular clinic, she was a little untrusting. I could see why.
When I finally got in to see the doctor, he looked like every tired, yet positive clinic doctor I have every seen on TV. His white doctor's coat draped over his blood-red polo shirt, which is tucked into his baggy pants. His hair was gray and would put any 70's afro to shame. He never left his chair, even when his multitude of overly thin nurses buzzed about, looking for answers.
He checked my throat. Then one of the nurses, to my surprise and slight discomfort lifted my shirt for me so the doctor could check my heart and respiratory workings with his stethoscope. I was looking around like a confused puppy at the vet.
--"What? Where am I? Why does it smell like 'not safe'? Where's my lady? There she is. Why isn't she helping me? I wonder what bugs I'll eat today. Need...to...lick...down there..."--
Anyway, it turned out fine. No horribly debilitating flu. Not even an IV. I was one of the lucky ones. Still have a slight fever. But nothing at all to worry about. Did I mention how much I love my wife? Yeah. I can be a bit selfish, though I don't mean to be, yet she is so selfless. I'm luckier than I maybe should be. Love Love Love.
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You may have noticed the language translation flags at the top and bottom of my brogs. They come quite in handy, and are often hilarious to read. Yay! Foreignness!
Also, I updated my
portfolio site, too, a bit. Che-Che-Check it out!
Laterz...
Mike, the sewers are beneath me, literally, the RocketRat
