Well, here I sit at 5:00 am on Thursday morning. I’ve caught some terrible form of wheezing, congested “something” that just won’t go away. It’s one of those “don’t-laugh-or-you’ll-hack-up-a-lung” sort of coughs. Give room for just one cough and you’re in for a 10-minute coughing spasm. I coughed so hard yesterday I literally almost threw up. I’ve been this way for over a week and was starting to seriously worry about pneumonia. I’ve been lying in bed for about an hour trying desperately not to cough. Finally, to spare Monique, I decided to at least retire to the office at the other end of the (yes, still cold) house. Figured while here, I’d capture some thoughts that have traced my mind recently.
By the way, for those who may be wondering if after a week of this I’ve finally gone to a doctor yet, the answer is “I finally did yesterday”. Why the delay? As previously reported, “going to the doctor” is a significant event that means just what you’d expect from nationalized health care. The “hospital” seemed more like a clinic. It was neither clean, nor warm, nor private, nor comforting. Here’s how it went down…
You have to wait in line for everything, but lines here can actually mean shoving matches to see who yells the loudest or butts in the best. To overcome that they’ve instituted a “take a number” policy exactly like what you’ve seen at the DMV. First, at the podium as you come in you have your temp taken and tell them your symptoms – in front of everyone – glad I didn’t have explosive diarrhea. From this you will get a colored slip letting the cashier know what treatment you will be getting. Then proceed to the cashier to pay for the visit. Be sure to get your registration form stamped to prove you have paid. Go to the appropriate waiting room based on temp or problem and take a number. Once your number shows up on the board get cursory look-see by doctor. This takes place in a 3’ x 5’ office cubicle with nothing more than a desk and a stool. In this case there were 5 other cubicles all clumped together and the next person waiting was a foot and a half away watching the strange foreigner over the wall – at least she was outside the cube – this was, after all, MY time with the Doc! Once again, glad I didn’t have to tell them some horribly embarrassing personal symptom I was experiencing! Once Doc decides what you need (tests, etc.) you go back to the cashier to pay for tests before tests are administered. No waiting in line here, just wave your paperwork more aggressively than the next person and you get waited on. Once stamped, go back to the test area and wait in line there. Hang around the open test area to wait for tests to be complete. Keep alert cause they don’t call your name, you have to keep asking. Once retrieved you personally deliver results back to the first doctor. There, no waiting in line again – just cut in line and interrupt whoever the doctor is visiting with (now I see the value of the cubicle system). In my case, I needed antibiotics. Fortunately I was able to request pills – which is not the norm. Normally antibiotics are administered intravenously with a slow drip over 2+ hours and have to be administered over a course of 3 days!!! I also received prescription for Tylenol and a Chinese medicinal tea which all required another visit to the cashier then on to the pharmacy line. All instructions were in Chinese so I had to cut back in line to ask for directions on taking the meds. Whew! All of this with a bunch of other (worse?) sick people as I waited my “turns”. Did I mention it was not clean in any way? Well, despite its shortcomings, I can now understand how this system works to limit health care costs by, among other things, ensuring only people who really NEED to see a doctor go see a doctor. Would you go through that for something minor?
OK, on to the “real” topic.
So I’ve been wondering what kind of a difference each of us makes in our daily routines. I’ve come to the conclusion that the degree and type of difference we make is totally up to us. It all started one day in our cafeteria when the server saw me coming through and provided a plate with a 2nd portion of the yummy boneless chicken thigh that was the main course. Gotta keep the American fat and happy! I looked up as I received the plate from her to see that EVERY ONE of the 30+ cafeteria workers was watching from behind their sanitary face masks. I stopped, and in Chinese thanked her effusively then asked how her family was. Well, the entire kitchen area erupted in laughter and chit-chat. The whole routine of food-swapping is pretty anonymous. They were shocked that ANYONE would talk to them, much less the foreigner. Since then no matter what line I get in – double helpings for Jay. Not a bad investment – a kind reply for a kind action. I feel like I have to be on alert at all times, but I don’t really mind. Some other instances where I feel I can make a difference by just being alert and (trying to be) kind:
Last week it was raining so hard after work that I hired a three-wheeled covered pedicab to take me to the subway where I would have a better chance of finding a cab home. These pedicabs are everywhere – hundreds … no thousands of them swarming the district where my office is – like mosquitoes or jet fighters zooming through traffic ignoring every traffic law there is. I always make sure to look the drivers in the face when I get in, and again when I get out to pay. Yesterday on the way back from lunch I also grabbed a pedicab from the subway station back to my office. How unlikely was it that I would get the same driver as last week? I recognized him and remarked about it. He was shocked that I would have remembered (you know, they DON’T all look the same – grin). We had a nice chat as he weaved through traffic. I don’t think we’ll be having his family over for dinner, but I feel like we made a connection.
Our office hires a gaggle of middle-aged cleaning women to empty trash, mop bathroom floors, sweep leaves off the pathways, etc. They also pretty much go about their business in anonymity. Quietly flittering in to empty the trash, etc. I’ve tried to make it a habit to stop them and ask about their family or holiday or the weather or whatever. They always seem surprised but unembarrassed – and certainly proud – to talk about their families. Nothing earth-shattering, but another small connection.
When I was staying at my teeny tiny hotel when I first got here, because I didn’t have a credit card that worked over here, I had to pay day by day – every day. One cute young woman at the front desk was named Li Dan Dan. One day she was courageous enough to try speaking English with me. All her colleagues giggled that she would make such an attempt, but from that time forward I would pause long enough to let her try to speak English – it was very poor. I’d work with her from time to time on how to pronounce “V” and “R” – two difficult sounds for the Chinese mouth. Each time as I entered the lobby late in the day I’d holler across the way “HELLO Li Dan Dan!!” – of course giggles and laughter. In the process I learned about her family, some of her aspirations, etc. I’d bet that if I bumped into Li Dan Dan somewhere else in the city today – say on the subway or whatever – we’d recognize each other and chat.
The list of people we can reach out to is almost endless. My cab drivers, the guards at our front gate, the lady at the news stand where I buy my cell minute recharge card, the girl at the store beside our office where I sometimes go buy a drink that is NOT tea (that’s all our vending machines at work have), the security bag screener or the safety-flag-waver at my local subway line, people who stare at you ON the subway, the myriad young men and young women who work on the same floor as me, the guy who floats past our house picking up trash out of the river, etc., etc. The investment is minimal. It usually requires just a smile, sometimes a wave or a “hello” or “ni hao”, sometimes its allowing the cab driver to keep the extra 1 or 2 kuai change – with the charge that he give it to his 13 year old daughter. Regardless, I am confident that in a weird small way I am doing my part to bring about international harmony.
My dad once taught me a message I will never forget. I don’t think he knew he was teaching a lesson. He was an executive at a company that had established a separate reserved parking area for the execs that was up close to the building. He may have even had a parking space with his name on it. Once when I left his office with him we had to walk way out to the end of the “common” parking lot to find his car. When I asked why he didn’t park up front, he simply said that there are a lot of diligent people who have to arrive WAAAY before he does, and that it only seemed right that people should be able to park first-come-first-served. He had arrived later than usual, thus the long walk. That subtle act – and its attendant message that we’re all pretty much equal – has always stayed with me. (Closed circuit note to my kids – after I die and you tell stories of stupid goofy things that I did, please at least remember that I tried to be a friendly guy)
I guess there is really nothing new or insightful about this. Perhaps that I am a bit more in the spotlight now, it has come to have more meaning for me. It would be easy to simply put my head down in this environment of vast humanity and just go about my business. It seems like that’s what everyone else does. With the ginormous number of times you see, talk to, bump into, or otherwise stand near someone, human interaction is so frequent that it is very “cheap” here – why invest even a moment with someone you will likely never see again? On the other hand, a look, a gesture, a nod, a word has started to make this interaction overload manageable – at least in my little Shanghai daily routine.
So can we make a difference? Yes. Just apply the same principle as when you cross the railroad tracks: “Stop, Look, and Listen”
(BTW, be sure not to confuse this with the principle used during a fire. If you “Stop, Drop, and Roll” people will look at you weird).
Love to all…
Jay
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