TheBanyanTree: Transition 15, Part 2

[Pat M]

Transition 15, Part 2
Coincidence - Seeing a doctor in China & visiting Zhang Kang





       When I turned on the computer the following morning, the first thing
I saw was a message from Ron Brown, the man in charge of Agape's China
medical mission. He wrote:



*"Zhang Kang has arrived at the Xijing hospital for surgery. Do you have any
funds to assist the family. The family has raised 10,000 toward his surgery.
We will pay 15,000 toward his surgery. May I hear from you. We will need to
complete his surgery this week."*



To date, I'd only received $150. in donations (deposited to my Canadian bank
account) but that didn't matter; I'd pay the needed 3000 yuan (about $400)
even if I had to cover the additional $250 myself.

I couldn't stop thinking how coincidental it was that I should receive this
email the very day I had already planned to go to the hospital. Now, I could
visit Zhang Kang and pay for his surgery as well as find out my test
results, all in the same trip. Great!

Amy was going to accompany me to Xian because Frank had to leave the
hospital at three. I called to tell her about Zhang Kang and to firm up
plans.

"Let's have an early lunch today and catch the bus after that. We'll visit
Zhang Kang first and I'll pay the money. Then, I'll pick up my test results
and see the doctor." I paused. "Hmm, could you please buy some good books
for Zhang Kang this morning; I'll pay you back later. He's going to be in
the hospital a long time and will need something to do."

When I arrived at the college for lunch, Alice's nephew (my favorite dance
partner) was there. He had Alice's car.

Amy said, "He'll drive us to the hospital."

During lunch, Zhangho wore a worried expression. She was very animated and
loud as she and Amy conversed in Chinese.

Amy said, "She's worried that maybe they are bad people and are just trying
to get your money."

I said, "I don't see how if I pay the money to the hospital myself."

After lunch, I withdrew 3,000 yuan (five month's salary for Amy; half a
year's salary for Zhangho.) An hour later Amy and I arrived at Xijing
Hospital.

"Xie xie (thank you)," I said to Alice's nephew. "Zhi jian (goodbye)."

"Have you ever been here?" I asked Amy as we joined the surging masses en
route toward the hospital's main entrance.
"No," she said. "Most people can not afford to come here."
(There were obviously plenty who could, likely with a military connection.)

Inside, we set about trying to find out where Zhang Kang was. Without an
information desk, it wasn't easy; the hospital was the size of a small city.

"Stay here," Amy said. "I'll see if I can find anyone who can help."

When she returned she knew where to go. It took us a few minutes to reach
the cardiology building, an 8-story pastel pink structure. I expected to see
a reception desk in the foyer, but should have known better. Zhang Kang
could be anywhere in the building. Where to start looking?

Just then Frank called to say he'd arrived and was on his way.

We waited for him on the ground floor (in China, the ground floor is called
the first floor.)

When Frank arrived he spoke with Amy in Chinese. Then, he phoned Jackie to
confirm that the surgery would proceed once I'd paid the 3000 and to find
out where Zhang Kang was.

"He's on the sixth floor."
On the elevator, he, too, expressed concern about handing over 3,000 yuan.
"You don't want to pay and then find out the hospital wants more money."
I felt very fortunate to have both Frank and Amy looking out for my (and the
other sponsors') interests．

We easily found the room. It had three beds. Two were occupied by babies
(needing heart surgeries) and their parents. Zhang Kang's mother was resting
on the third bed. She sat up and straightened her clothes; she'd been
dozing. Zhang Kang wasn't there.

"Ni hao (hello)," I said, smiling broadly. She returned my smile and
greeting. Frank spoke with her on my behalf.

"She says Zhang Kang is upstairs for tests and should be back soon."

       While we waited, Amy and Frank chatted with her in Chinese.

"She has another child, a baby boy, and in her family of four the baby is
the only one without health problems." Amy said.

"Oh, I didn't know that. The baby wasn't there when we visited."

"She has diabetes and her husband has heart problems."

After about fifteen minutes, Zhang Kang's mother went upstairs. A few
minutes later, Zhang Kang slowly walked into the room, followed by both of
his parents. He was flushed and there were beads of sweat on his forehead.
He looked so ill that I felt alarmed; it occurred to me he might not survive
the surgery but I squashed the unwelcome thought. He would get through it;
he had to!

       "Amy, will you translate for me?"

       She nodded.

"I have some books for you," I said, and handed him the story books Amy had
chosen on my behalf. One was a thick book with many short stories; the
other, a book of science experiments for youngsters. I could see he was too
sick to read, but felt certain he'd enjoy them during his recovery．

    "Xie xie (thank you)," he said.

"I've also brought the final payment," I said excitedly. "I'm so happy
you're going to have your operation! Soon, you'll be able to run and play
just like the other kids!" I beamed at him and gave him a thumbs up.

Zhang Kang smiled; his eyes lit up. It was the first time I'd ever seen him
smile.

"The money is from many people, not just me, so I want to take some photos
of you for them."

Meanwhile, Frank spoke with Zhang Kang's father who produced the receipt for
the 10,000 yuan they'd already paid. Frank read it carefully.

"I need to speak with the nurse to find out how to make the payment," he
said, and left the room. When he returned he said, "As soon as the family
pays the final 3,000 yuan (the family must pay their portion of the money
first), Agape will pay 15,000 and the surgery will be scheduled."

Zhang Kang's father said something in Chinese.

Frank said, "Zhang Kang has to go back upstairs for his tests now."

       "Zhi jian (goodbye)," I gave him another emphatic thumbs up.

       As I watched him shuffle out of the room, more like an old man than a
fourteen-year-old boy, I felt very concerned. Let the operation be a
success, I prayed.

Zhang Kang's father, Frank, Amy andＩtook the elevator down and walked to
another building to make the payment. Frank took photos for the other
sponsors. Zhang Kang's father needed the receipt in order to schedule the
surgery, so I took photos of it before giving it to him.
"He is very thankful to you and the others. Can he have your address?" Frank
asked.
"Sure."
 By now, I was getting anxious to deal with my own health problems. With a
quick wave and a 'zai jian' we parted.
First stop was the MR building where the waiting room was jam-packed with
patients, many with sour expressions on their faces.

Frank made his way to the counter, again using his size and height to his
advantage. He returned with a large plastic bag containing my MRI results.

"The (MRI) machine broke down last night and all these people are waiting
for it to be fixed," he said. "You're lucky you had your test yesterday!"

Off we went to the VIP area again to see the nurse who'd helped us
yesterday. On the way, Frank pulled out one of three MRI negatives and
looked at it for a moment.

"They all just look like walnuts to me," he quipped.

I took a quick look. "You're right."

The nurse for VIPs looked at the blood test results, and the written
MRI report. Frank spoke with her in Chinese, then said, "They found one
problem with your spine but it isn't serious."

The doctor I'd seen the previous day wasn't in so she booked me in to see a
different specialist and directed her subordinate, a young, chubby nurse
with a permanent scowl, to take me to his office.

"I'm going to have to leave you now. Amy can take you to see the doctor,"
Frank said.

"Thanks for all your help, Frank. Take care. I'll talk to you soon."

The nurse led Amy and I to the doctor's office two floors below. She either
hated her job or had personal problems; she looked so unhappy. I couldn't
help thinking that if I had to work in the hospital with its milling crowds,
I'd be miserable too; I couldn't wait to be finished and out of there. The
hospital reminded me of the shopping malls in the west, a couple of days
before Christmas. There were so many people, it was hard to move.

The doctor's door was closed and there were a number of people waiting
outside it. The nurse knocked gently, then popped her head in and spoke with
the doctor. She closed the door again. It didn't open for a long time, and
the nurse's impatience showed on her face. As soon as I was shown into the
doctor's office, she made a hasty exit.

This doctor was younger. He had two interns in his office.

"Would you like to speak English or Chinese?" he said.

Wow!

"English would be good," I said, and handed him my medical record book,
blood test results, and MRI films.

"Blood is fine," he said.

He examined two of the three MRI films and read the MRI report that
accompanied them.

"There is a small abnormality here," he indicated a vertabrae. "It is minor.
May I do some tests?"

"Yes."

He took hold of my fingers and pulled on them.

"I've been worried I might have MS."

"Sorry, I don't know it."

"Multiple Schlerosis. It is a neurological disease," I said

"I'm a spine specialist. What are you doing here?" (The man was arrogant.)

A spine specialist? That was news to me. I guessed I'd been directed to see
him because the only problem found was spinal.

"The spine problem isn't giving you your symptoms," he finally said. "You
might have a B12 deficiency. I suggest you try taking some."

I wanted to ask him how I could be sure I was getting the right product.
China has a poor reputation for safety standards and to be honest, I would
prefer not to consume any medications purchased here. I found myself
stammering and unable to formulate a diplomatic sentence to express my
feelings without insulting his country. The best I could come up with was,
"How will I know I'm getting the right thing?"

"I'll write you a prescription for a special type of B12 called Methycobal
that is made in Japan. It's good for the peripheral nerves. Maybe it will
help."

MRIs pick up 95% of MS cases; I'd done my research and could live with those
odds.

I was staying in China!

***

-- 
If you don't use Picasa, China photos can be viewed at
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If you use Picasa, you must access the albums individually:

http://picasaweb.google.com/Ms.Pat.Martin/January2008To

http://picasaweb.google.com/Ms.Pat.Martin/China3ZhangKangSStory

http://picasaweb.google.com/Ms.Pat.Martin/China2

http://picasaweb.google.com/Ms.Pat.Martin/China

http://picasaweb.google.com/Ms.Pat.Martin/WangYani