The Physical

Over 3 weeks have passed since I've been in China and it is just today that I received my teaching schedule. There were a few items on the agenda that needed to be completed before our classes could be scheduled... This is where today's story begins.

All foreign workers in China must pass a physical exam before they begin work (as mandated by the Chinese government). Ok, no problem. This will be an adventure. And it was. Our boss, Mr. Wang, met us at our apartment complex bright and early. We began filling out a few forms, which tested our skills in converting our height and weight from standard to metric. Out came the cell phones (calculators have been replace). After attaching 4 very flattering visa photos to the forms, we piled into the mini -- very mini -- van to make our way into Chongqing.

Traffic was congested. (What else do you expect in a country of 1.3 billion?!) And, consistent with every other ride I take, the same 3 thoughts run through my head as the driver nonchalantly pulls into the oncoming traffic lanes so as to pass the cars in front of us: "I'm going to die", "no one here could ever pass driver's ed", and "I now understand Asian drivers in the US". (The last not being a stereotype but a deeper understanding of cultural differences -- we were taught to drive differently. In some ways I believe drivers here are more talented. But enough of that...)

40 minutes later we arrived at the International Health Center for Foreign Workers in the Harmonious People's Republic of China (or some such fancy and harmonious name). We had no idea what to expect. We soon found out that it was like stations in elementary school PE class. Station 1: registration. Mr. Wang shoved me ahead in clump of people (there are no lines in China) and I stood there before the receptionist as she entered my entire form into the computer and took my picture with a webcam that looked like an Academy Award. Do they really need another photo of me?

"Rotate!" Onto station 2: 2nd registration. I have no idea what transpired at this counter but I guess it was necessary. The patient before me had this laser gun pointed at them. I think it was for taking temperature...but they didn't use it on me. Apparently I didn't need my temp taken. (Just remember this for later...)

"And Rotate! Double Time!" I guess I didn't need station 3 because I went straight to station 4: payment. As I'm getting my receipt, Robb walks up and Mr. Wang announces to me, "And now it's time for your HIV test". "Oh! really?" I respond with a look of surprise and suppressed laughter. Robb began to snicker. "Come on. You too, buddy." As we walked the steps up to the subset of stations, all I am thinking is "I hope I don't pass out". It was as if they knew...

All I see when I get to the 2nd floor is this huge white sign with blue letters spelling out "BLOOD CENTER". There were about 18 inches that separated the waist high counter and the wall of Plexiglas coming down from the ceiling. A few lab technicians stood on the other side. A stool stood on my side. You have to be kidding me. "Ok, have a seat." Nope, they're not kidding. I sit down at this fast food blood draw and place my arm under the Plexiglas. Well, at least there's not a lot of people watching... I swear they know my thoughts. All of a sudden this crowd of Asians builds behind me, waiting there turn. The irony of the day kills me.

As I come back to life I'm handed a little flimsy plastic cup with a tab for a handle. Pee test. This is a first: taking a pee test over a squatter. Interesting. Then I'm instructed to place my full cup (which has no lid, mind you, but only a tiny barcode indicating that this pee belongs to me) onto a tray next to half a dozen other pee samples. Oh, and no one's there to monitor this either. Evil thoughts of bumping the tray and mixing the pees run through my mind. My dark giggle is quickly interrupted by Mr. Wang's directions, "This way. You need to get 6 signatures." I have one: pee/blood.

Next station: ECG. I had never had one of these done before -- exciting. I laid down on the table and the doc attached all the clamps to me. At this point my mind searches rapidly for any Chinese words that could convey "I would prefer not to be electrocuted". The giggles return just until them put the clamps on my chest -- those actually hurt slightly. The machine is turned on and she monitors the waves. And then it is turned off. I'm not sure but I think that they're suppose to last longer than 6 seconds...but I could be wrong...

"Rotate!" EENT: same concept as the ECG...6 second examination. I distinguished 8 shapes on one of those E, M, W, 3 chart. It was unconventional though -- I sat in a chair and looked through a mirror 8 feet away to see the chart that was hanging on the wall behind me. 2 colorblindness tests followed: "I see an '8'", "I see an 'N'".

"Rotate!" The next doctor had me lay on a table as she poked me in the stomach. (I have no idea what she was looking for.) Then came the familiar tests: listening to my heart and lungs, blood pressure, pulse. I don't remember her taking my pulse but I watched her enter it into the computer. She came to the box in which she had to enter my temperature. As you recall, no one took it when I signed in, so she made it up. I suppose I was around 37 degrees. Why not? It gets even better. The technologically challenged doctor kept entering "/" before my temp and a warning box would appear saying, I'm guessing, "invalid entry" in Chinese. After a minute of watching her go back and forth between the entry page and the warning display, I motioned that I could help. Between my limited Chinese and advanced knowledge of international charades we managed to communicate. "Meiyou" ("no") followed by diagonal karate chops was apparently enough.

"Rotate!" Station 4 was my favorite simply for the email opportunity it presented. "Hi Mom & Dad. Just wanted to let you know that I had my ultrasound today and they said everything looked good." The giggles returned and I contemplated the exact wording as the tech placed the cold camera and goop on my stomach. "Wow. Didn't think I'd be having one of these tests anytime soon."I think Robb and Andrew had more fun with it though. Andrew walked out of the room nodding his head, "Well...twins."

"Rotate!" The 6th and final signature came from an x-ray technician. I knew it was a chest x-ray. Alright, pretty simple. Stand and take a photo. No. Of course not. With my forehead against the wall and my arms bent like a chicken (apparently not bent well enough because the tech had to pull my elbows further back) the picture was taken. I put my shoes back on and recapped all that had transpired in the last 60 minutes...

Once again, I giggled to myself.