Eye Exams in Japan

When I arrived at the hospital for my mandatory medical check last Friday morning, it was cold and wet and early. Undeniably ugly weather for an undeniably ugly activity.

I guess I should back up and explain. I hate doctor's visits. 

Usually, I tend to be upbeat about most new activities I try here in Japan. I go into it with a "can-do" attitude that I like to believe makes everything feel accessible and fun. There aren't many things that can wipe a smile off my face.

However, being poked and prodded and touched by people wearing stethoscopes is one of those few things. I just don't like it. 

Add the whole "not understanding anything your doctor says" into the equation, and things turn downright nightmarish.

But I digress. My really good friend and coworker Haruka and I had our mandatory medical check-up scheduled for the same day last Friday so that she could translate instructions for me (and I suppose, provide moral support). So we arrived to our doctor's appointment at the same time, skipping and hopping through the rain so our shoes wouldn't get wet.

We squeaked into the empty beige hallway and turned in our insurance cards, health questionnaire, and urine samples (which you do at home by yourself here) to a receptionist, and were asked to take a seat to wait.

It was too early and I was apprehensive about the whole situation. Haruka, similarly unhappy about doctor's visits, was fairly quiet. I think at one point we might have discussed breakfast, since we weren't allowed to eat food before our appointment and I would describe us both as voracious eaters. But otherwise, this was a quiet time.

Then a nurse called my name. Or something close to it.

"Kin-ka-do san?"

"Hai!" I shouted, jumping up like a red hot poker had just singed my knee. Haruka followed me into a tiny room with plastic teal curtains. There were several needles on the table.

I realized I was about to have my blood drawn. My mouth creases into an unpleasant grimace.

I sit down. The nurse says something to me, but my panic and fear and sleepiness all culminate in a total loss of my Japanese abilities. Haruka translates.

"First time?"

"Gurp," I say. "I mean, no." I hold up two fingers (I've done it twice before).

"Ohhh," says the nurse, who is all calm and smiles. "Do your best," she says nicely. I appreciate this.

I continue to appreciate it as Haruka runs away and a needle is inserted into my vein, sucking out my red gooey life force. I slam my eyes shut in terror. Still appreciating as hard as I can.

Next, the eye exam. I walk into a new room and I'm told to sit and wait as Haruka goes first, covering one eye and calling out what she sees in front of her. I zone out and check my Instagram.

Then one of the two equally friendly doctors calls for me to take my turn. I sit in the chair and look at the chart in front of me. They tell me to cover my right eye. I do.

But I am confused.

For some reason, I was expecting to see something like this:

I instead found myself confronted with this:

In panic and confusion, I scream out, "THEY'RE ALL C!"

The doctor gapes at me, then double checks the chart. Then she laughs and realizes that I do in fact come from another planet where everything is different and eye exams make no sense. 

She explains to me that what I should be saying is left, right, up and down (in Japanese), depending on where the chunk is removed from the "O." Realizing how crazy I must have sounded, I laugh my way through the entire exam and couldn't read the bottom line of the chart because were crazy-laugh tears flooding my eyeballs.

Yes, it was strange and embarrassing. But there was only one more station to visit after that, and there's no way it could get any worse, right?

Oh ho ho. How wrong you are.

So next, I sat and waited at our final station, not knowing what to expect. Haruka had gone in before me, and didn't leave any sort of clue as to what was coming up next. I assumed it was some sort of lady exam, like maybe a gynocologist. I figured that was the sort of thing that would sneak up on me when I least expected it.

Haruka walked out and the doctor (this time, a man) gestured for me to walk in. On guard, I scooted in quietly. What new experiments could this section hold?

He asked me in a very friendly way (are all Japanese doctors this amazingly friendly?), "Japanese is okay? You understand?"

I said, "Uhhhhhh. Maybe?"

He laughed. He said something in Japanese that I didn't understand. I tilted my head like a confused dog.

He repeated it, this time in broken English. "Clothes? Remove?"

"Oh!" I shouted, as I quickly began to take off my shirt.

"Ah!" he cried, covering his eyes (in a very friendly way). He gestured to a changing room behind me and pointed to a robe.

"Oh!" I shouted again, pulling my shirt back down. "Sorry!" 

I went into the changing room and took off my shirt, and put on the robe. I assumed this was some sort of breast exam, so I didn't bother to tie the straps in the front. I mean, those would just get in the way right?

I awkwardly walked out again and the doctor gestured to my robe. I pulled it apart so he could perform the exam.

"Ah!" he cried again, as he grabbed the robe, tying the straps in the front for me. He pointed to a X-ray machine behind him, saying, "Umm....

It was at that point that I realized the doctor might have thought I was trying to show him my boobs for no reason, when he just wanted me to take an X-ray.

"OH! Ah! Sorry!" I cried, running to the X-ray machine, robe flapping in the breeze.

It was an ordeal, albeit a hilarious one. 

And you'll be delighted to know that I got the results back later that day. Apparently, I'm perfectly healthy. 

So at least there's that.