Well our time in Seoul has taken an unexpected turn…right to the Korean University hospital.  Basically, Saturday night I fell and dislocated my right knee – the knee cap decided to adjust itself all the way to the right, sticking straight to the right side.  The pain was excruciating, and I had a wonderful time popping it back into place.  I promise I’ll have another post about that story, but here I want to focus on our 6-hour stint in a hospital with no English-speaking staff.  It’s a very long story, so you’ll have to bear with me.

Sunday morning, my knee was so swollen and sore.  I couldn’t bend it, I could barely walk gritting my teeth against the pain, and so I lay in my massive room on my massive bed, wishing I were somewhere else.  Somehow, it got into my head that I could just wait this one out, let the swelling subside, and survive off advil.  At some point, I decided that I should at least investigate dislocated knee caps, and so I entered that terrible amusement park that is medical advice on the internet.

It wasn’t too pretty, but it did convince me that I should probably get it checked out, just in case there was sever ligament damage.  One of my biggest reservations about going to a hospital was that we don’t have Korean health insurance yet, and God only knows how much it would all cost.  The travel health insurance I have is far less than helpful – in order to even find a care provider in their network, I need to call during regular business hours, Monday to Friday EST…

My employer was also less than helpful.  I’m supposed to start teaching tomorrow, and his response to my plight was “Oh, this is very inconvenient.”  He also hinted that he might drive up here to “assess my injury.”  Dick.  He did call the Korea University hospital though and recommended I go there.

So with Rob’s and Brian’s help, I hobbled down the street to find a cab to take us to the hospital.  We had a great time trying to flag down cabs, most of whom didn’t want to deal with 3 white guys, especially when they realized how close the hospital actually was.  It wasn’t very impressive.  Finally, someone took pity on us and drove us to the Emergency room.

One of our guesthouse neighbors told us that there were English-speaking staff who could help us.  We didn’t encounter many of them.  The next 6 hours consisted of me being put in a wheel chair, asked to sign things, sitting for long periods in the waiting room, and then having my knee poked and prodded painfully while doctors spoke at me in Korean. 

It was clear that no one wanted to deal with me, and finally they just started pushing me around in the wheel chair without talking to me.  I’d be sitting in the waiting room, and suddenly I was traveling down the hall somewhere…for something…that I suppose I’d figure out eventually.  One time, they said something about painkiller medication, wheeled me to a backroom, pulled out a needle, and said “hip, hip.”  They told me to get on the bed and roll over, then jabbed me with the painkiller needle.  Excuse me miss, that’s definitely not my hip.

One of my favorite parts was when they took me back through the depressing infirmary to a small side room with hospital bed.  The woman finally spoke English to me, saying “head” and pointing at one end of the bed.  I clumsily climbed onto the bed, they wheeled a small table full of medical equipment next to the bed, and left without saying anything else.  Periodically, they’d return to add devices to the table, again without saying anything.  Looking at all the stuff they were putting on the table, I deduced that they were going to drain it with a syringe – stick a needle into my knee and extract liquid, blood, ground bone – something.  And still, no one had told me just what the fuck was going on.2 doctors finally came in and one sorta spoke English.  First, they asked if I spoke Korean, and when I said no, they both look crestfallen.  Not a good start.  Then, they asked me what happened, and so I explained for the 5th time since being in the hospital that my knee cap went sideways.  They both suddenly looked alarm and confused, and spoke to each other in Korean.  Exact opposite of instilling confidence.  They also kept checking both of my knees – actually, they x-rayed both of my knees too – as if they needed to compare the two to figure out what was wrong.  Shouldn’t you know what a knee is supposed to look like?!?  And yes, for the last time, it really really hurts when you press on that spot!  Is there a doctor that specializes in Western knees?  And does anyone here speak English?  Again, opposite of confidence. 

When they were done, the room was a mess (also opposite of confidence) and my leg was in a cast, drained of the blood that had seemed into my knee area.  I was told that they were going to keep me there overnight and they’d run more tests in the morning, to figure out the extent of ligament damage.  I cringed at the thought of footing that bill – so far, I had accrued about $400 in fees.  What followed was a wonderful game of “somebody else’s problem.”

They left me here, telling me only that I couldn’t eat or drink anything.  After that, everyone simply ignored me.  I swear the whole evening they were playing rock, paper, scissors to see who would have to go deal with me.  When I finally flagged someone down and asked them about going to the bathroom, they looked kinda confused (WTF? that should be an obvious need for a hospital patient), then a little uncomfortable, then they brought me a little jug.  They still insisted I shouldn’t eat or drink anything (even water), but no one explained why.

Rob and Brian left to get me my laptop and book, and just after they left, the doctors returned and told me I was discharged and I should return to talk with an orthopedic surgeon on Tuesday.  It was so clear that they were just passing the buck, sorta speak, and they were absolutely done with me.  The annoyance of the language barrier had passed that certain threshold.  It all blew me away – I didn’t understand how someone at the hospital wouldn’t speak English to me.  The receptionist did speak English well, but they never called on her to translate anything.  Rob’s suspicion was that they could speak English but were simply too tired and busy to bother speaking English.  I think that’s quite plausible.

I asked for a set of crutches to get around, but they said that the hospital store was closed.  I looked sorta incredulous and asked slowly, well how do I get around?  How do I make it back to my gue
sthouse?  They said, ok wait here, we’ll find a solution.  30 minutes later, they returned, apologized, and told me they didn’t have anything, not even a cane.  But on the bright side, I could eat and drink again, for whatever unexplained reason.  So I gathered my things, climbed into the wheel chair, and wheeled myself out to wait for a cab. With Rob’s help, I made it back to my room, conveniently located on the 4th floor, and now, this is my life until Tuesday. I was quite sad to come back home – at the hospital, my room was bigger, it smelled better, and the hospital bed was pretty comfortable.  I will probably slowly go insane here.  At least my leg doesn’t hurt, and supposedly I’ll have some answers on Tuesday. 

By the way, if you’re reading this, are located in Seoul, speak English and Korean, and are free Tuesday at 10am, I will buy you lunch if you’d like to accompany me to the hospital so I can understand what the hell is wrong with my knee.  Anything you ask – no form of compensation is too much to avoid another misadventure in a hospital with no English support.  Also, I have so so so much respect for immigrants in the U.S. that don’t speak English…it’s not a comforting experience going to the hospital.