The Elephant Man

With fortuitous (or not so fortuitous) timing, considering that I am giving a class about doctors and health tomorrow, I came down with a bit of a cold last night. It's probably just an effect of the Taiwanese weather, though Ruby lost no opportunity to blame it on the "bad pollution" inside the local internet cafe where I compose these blog posts. Now, my cold is not very severe; it's the kind of thing that, back home in America and away from an oversolicitous director of studies, I would probably self-medicate with Robitussin and orange juice. But Ruby, who takes the philosophy that "your health is our wealth," insisted that I seek medical care.

As Ruby has only moved to Taoyuan herself recently, she had to ask the adult student I had this morning for a recommendation. One was given, and at 3:00 this afternoon, I had my first encounter with Taiwanese medical care in the form of Dr. Su, who keeps an office on the block between my apartment and the school.

When I walked into Dr. Su's office, which was just as he opened for the afternoon (I take it Wednesdays he takes a half-day), I stood in line for a moment to take a number. I was there early and so got number six. At the counter, I was asked for my national health insurance card. Since my visa situation has yet to be resolved, and I have yet to get my work permit and residency visa, I don't have one. So I had to pay more (covered by the school): 500 NT (about $15-16 U.S.). This was the full price without insurance. This compares very favorably with the $600 U.S. bill I got once getting checked for pneumonia in a Brooklyn hospital.

Dr. Su is clearly an avid collector of elephant figurines. I'm not sure if they're just sort of his thing, or if this is an attempt to provide amusement for child patients. In fact, I half guessed he might be a pediatrician; the student who gave Ruby this recommendation is a housewife with two children, and I expect that when someone needs to know a doctor, her first instinct would be to recommend her children's pediatrician. I thought about saying something to Ruby and Eve about this before I went back, but thought better of it.

Dr. Su gave me the standard examination of eyes, ears, and throat, followed by a tap of the lungs. He said it was, as I suspected, a cold. He asked if I have any allergies; as far as I know, I don't. So he chalked it up to the weather getting colder in Taiwan, to which I did not disagree.

He squirted some kind of fluid into my mouth and nostrils and had the nurse put me through a treatment with some sort of inhaler. I've never seen the like in an American doctor's office. The thing was maybe the size of a waffle iron, and some sort of medicine was poured into it before the machine was turned on so I could inhale for five minutes. I think it did actually do something to make me feel better, though I don't really know what.

I was prescribed four different medications: one in case the thing develops into a fever (unlikely, as I'm feeling better already), one to take four times a day (meals and bedtime), and a couple of others. This all strikes me as complete overkill for the common cold. But I'll take them dutifully until I'm fully better.

On my return to the office, Ruby told me to avoid drinking cold water but drink plenty of hot water. I have never heard of any connection between cold liquids and the common cold, but belief in the benefits of drinking hot water--yes, hot water, not tea or coffee but plain hot water--seems to be widespread in Taiwan. Some of the students in my adult intermediate class saw my bottle of water at our first class meeting and told me I should switch to hot water for my health. I don't know whether this is a folk remedy or something that just isn't widely known about, or believed, in America. I don't think cups of plain hot water will ever be, pardon the pun, my cup of tea. But I told Ruby I would switch to hot water to humor her and got on about my lesson.

This whole little episode feels instructive. Americans tend not to worry much about this kind of minor cold. We take Robitussin or Contact and wait for the thing to take its course, but don't really bother with seeing a doctor for this kind of thing. I had never attributed that to the American health care system, but perhaps I should. I'm left wondering how many colds in America turn into something worse specifically because, unlike the Taiwanese, we have very expensive medical care.