Day 4 (October 25)

In addition to the mountains, the view from my hospital bed is dominated by the PL Peace Tower, an off-white, 180m tall memorial to war victims. Built in 1970, the gargantuan cenotaph looks like the by-product of an Antoni Gaudi design assembled at Willie Wonka’s Factory. On August 1st of every year, there is a huge festival dedicated to world peace, which concludes with one of the largest fireworks displays in the world. “We’ve got a great view here,” explains Murakami-san, the nurse in charge of my treatment for the day. “Let’s hope I don’t stay in here that long,” I quipped, hoping that my TB meds will kick in long before that. 

Rain fell steadily all day as I adjusted to my new life. I’m on the cusp of my first weekend in the hospital, and wondering if hoards of visitors will come through those doors at any moment. Not visitors for me, that is,  but supporters for the other two dozen patients that don’t seem to be getting any love. Kanako has already visited me three times this week (including today, where she brought me a pillow~!)

I still haven’t formally met my roommates yet. I’ve said hi to the guy next to me a couple of times, but the young man directly across from me seems very shy and reserved, and hardly ever comes out of his curtain-enclosed cubical except to go to the restroom. What is he doing in there anyway? Reading comics all day? It wouldn’t surprise me….

One thing that’s difficult to get used to is the acoustics. Japanese hospitals were not designed by sounds engineers, that’s for sure. Sound travels a long way down the hall, which makes it difficult to sleep when Seki-san is up at night. I don’t know the patients real name, but someone just down the hall has some serious respiratory issues, and their cough (seki) flares up at night, keeping half the ward awake. I’ve tried earplugs, but they only serve to amplify the ticking sound of my titanium aortic valve. Perhaps this new pillow will do some good.

PL Peace Tower