Day 52 (December 12)

Well, this is my final full day in the hospital, and Kanako, sharp-eyed as ever, pointed out that I will be released on Friday the 13th! Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers now can they?

I spent most of the day packing and sorting through my stuff and dreaming about life on the other side. The first order of business is to catch up on sleep, followed by gorging myself on every type of cuisine in hopes of putting back on some of that lost weight. Hiking will come next; perhaps this weekend if I’m feeling energetic enough.

While rummaging through my belongings, I decided to count the number of books that I’ve read since being hospitalized. Here’s the complete list, in random order:

• Dark Summit – Nick Heil
• The Wind is Howling – Ayako Miura
• Born to Run – Christoper McDougall
• It’s Not About the Bike – Lance Armstrong
• No Way Down – Graham Bowley
• Stranger in the Forest – Eric Hansen
• Against the Wall – Simon Yates
• Into Thin Air – John Krakauer
• Ultra Marathon Man – Dean Karnazes
• Mother Tongue – Bill Bryson
• Mountains of the Mind – Robert Macfarlane
• The Beckoning Silence – Joe Simpson
• Fresh Currents – Eric Johnston
• Tokyo Vice – Jake Adelstein
• Minus 148 degrees – Art Davidson
• A Walk for Sunshine – Jeff Alt
• The Lost Wolves of Japan – Brett Walker
• The Ultimate Hiker’s Gear Guide – Andrew Skurka
• The Mountain Monks of Mount Hiei – John Stevens
• Serious Creativity – Edward De Bono
• Touching the Void – Joe Simpson
• Lowside of the Road – Barney Hoskyns (still reading)

I think I averaged about 1 book every 3 days, which is a pretty good pace considering I was also doing a lot of writing and blogging during that time. Of course, I didn’t have much else to do while being confined to such a small space. I think it was a much more productive time than just wasting away the hours watching movies or playing video games.

The sunset this evening was spectacular – a perfect ending to my long period of isolation. I received two weeks worth of medication to take home with me and have to come back in exactly 2 weeks for an outpatient check-up. I hope they don’t find a reason to have me re-admitted!

My last sunset in the hospital

Day 51 (December 11)

The Christmas decorations are up in the hospital. As I type, I’m surrounded by an adorable collection of holiday plushies: Frosty the Snowman is holding down the fort with his buddy Rudolph, everybody’s favorite button-nosed reindeer. Santa, looking more than a little plump after raiding the hospital kitchen fridge after hours, sits nearby in a glazed look of agitation. He’s going to have to lose some weight if he wants to make all of those deliveries.

Christmas isn’t celebrated as a religious holiday here in Japan. Sure, there are decorations, tinseled trees, and carols everywhere you go, but if you ask the average citizen about the meaning of Christmas, they’re likely to reply with: “Isn’t it Santa’s birthday?” Christmas is all about eating cake, going on a date, and looking at colorful lights. Gifts are optional.

I received an early Christmas present this afternoon. Dr. Tamura stopped by to tell me I can be released anytime. We decided that Friday would do; I wanted to get the date set in stone before he changed his mind! So there you have it. I’ll be officially discharged the day after tomorrow. Jude if you’re reading this then you can go ahead and schedule your long-over hair cut.

It still hasn’t sunk in, but the end is in sight. Now of course, I’ll out of the fire but still in the frying pan so to speak, because the antibiotics will continue nonstop until at least the end of April. I don’t mind that, as I’ve been taking anti-coagulants daily for the last 6 years. So far the TB meds haven’t wrecked my liver so let’s hope it stays that way. I should be good to go as long as I avoid alcohol, which will be easy since I quite drinking completely when I had my heart surgery.

Kanako came by this afternoon and we celebrated with ice cream and Scrabble. Kanako said I looked incredibly happy today and I honestly do feel ecstatic. I doubt I’ll be able to sleep tonight but that’s fine with me, as the only thing I need to do tomorrow is to relax and pack my bags.

Frosty and Rudolph: partners in crime

Day 50 (December 10)

Since this is my 50th day of hospitalization, I thought I’d do something a little different. Below is a list of 50 things I have learned about Japanese hospitals:

1. Resistance to flatulence is futile.
2. Sometimes grown men do wear diapers.
3. Shit stinks. Literally.
4. Lights out comes much too early.
5. Light on comes much too early.
6. Hospitals are BYOE – Bring Your Own Everything.
7. You can never have too many books.
8. If the nurse says it’s gonna hurt, it probably will.
9. Needles are a necessary evil.
10. Medicine always has the most unpronounceable names.
11. The changing of the sheets is something to look forward to.
12. When the doctors says ‘soon’, they really mean they don’t know when.
13. Toasters make everything taste better.
14. The TV in the common room is always turned up way too loud.
15. Moaners will be moaners.
16. Don’t expect a good night’s sleep.
17. Bath time is something to be cherished.
18. Privacy can only be found on the porcelain throne. Unless you need assistance with that too.
19. The thermometer goes under the arm, not under the tongue.
20. Pain meds are your best friend.
21. Nurses will always come in unannounced. Keep your pants on to avoid being surprised.
22. There’s never enough storage space.
23. There’s a Nurse Ratched in every hospital.
24. Another man’s dentures are never fun to look at.
25. Japanese people really do love sleeping.
26. Routines aren’t designed to be broken.
27. White bread really should be outlawed.
28. My room is always too ‘bright’ for the nurses.
29. Water takes 3-1/2 minutes to boil in the microwave.
30. Pajamas are shockingly expensive.
31. A catheter really is the worst thing imaginable.
32. You can never have too many visitors.
33. Nurses wear white. Assistants wear pastel.
34. Pay phones are still very much in vogue.
35. No the windows don’t open. I already tried them all.
36. If given the choice, always go for the bed by the window.
37. No matter how bad you may feel, there’s always someone much worse off than you.
38. Don’t get sick on a weekend.
39. Fruit always tastes better in the hospital.
40. Even though everything is made of concrete, the fire department will still come to test the alarm systems monthly.
41. Don’t get your head stuck in the bed railings. At least that’s what the warning signs say.
42. Most of your fellow patients were probably born in the Taisho era.
43. It’s better to beg for forgiveness than to ask for permission.
44. Japanese people do not know how to whisper.
45. Beds always face east or west.
46. The tea they serve is always tepid and never potent enough.
47. A little bit of Japanese can go a long way.
48. If you need to have your pubes shaved, it’s better to get the male nurse to do it.
49. Don’t be afraid to use the nurse call button.
50. Blogging about your experience can help ease the emotional pain.

50 days and counting

Day 49 (December 9)

With more construction work continuing upstairs, I spent most of the day trying to get my mind off the noise. A lot of it blends into the background until you start focusing on it, by which it starts to drive you mad. My game playing roommate got a new video game in the mail and proceeded to play it the entire afternoon. Normally that wouldn’t be cause for concern but the new toy involves touching the screen or device with a finger, resulting in a tapping sound more annoying than a leaky faucet. That, together with the high-pitched buzzing of electric razors, left me with a terrible headache. I’ve never used an electric razor in my life – I think my ears must be particularly sensitive to the frequency of the pitch, as it sends me running down the corridors in much the same way your beloved pooch would respond to a Galton’s whistle.

Other than those minor annoyances, it was a relatively quiet day in terms of medical treatment. I didn’t see Dr. Tamura at all today, so there was no update on my prognosis. I’m still following the unofficial motto of this fine establishment: “Hurry up and wait.” The nurse did tell me that I have a blood test and X-ray tomorrow, which my doctor had told me about last week. And he seems to be keeping his word for once about not ordering another test of my sputum. Maybe I will be released later this week after all. Oh, no, I better not start thinking like that again or I will be in trouble. Ok, I take that last statement back.

The food has completely repeated itself, as I have now tried every single dish offered at the hospital. Some of the food isn’t bad, while most can be considered edible by most humane standards. There are a few things that I don’t care too much for, one of which being seaweed. I can eat dried seaweed until the cows come home but I can’t stand the slimy fresh stuff they slip into my miso soup and into some of my salads. If I was stranded on a desert island with a group of Japanese people then I’d definitely be the first one to die of starvation. My fellow refugees would be chowing down on seaweed and kelp to their heart’s content while I would be staring in a hallucinogenic trance brought on by hunger and dehydration.

Tomorrow is a day I thought I would not have to face. 50 days of hospitalization. A new record for me and a milestone I hope to never repeat.

Maple leaves showing their true colors

Day 48 (December 8)

I awoke to a beautiful day, with crystal clear skies and amazing visibility, so I took advantage of the weather to head out on a mid-morning reconnaissance mission. I was planning on visiting a nearby supermarket if the local baker was closed, but fortunately they were open, so I could get a resupply of brown rice bread to liven up the first meal of the day.

On the way back I took a detour to check out the maple leaves and the reflections in the pond. I was surprised to find that there were still some autumn colors, including some Japanese larch transformed into a brilliant brown. They’re what is known as a deciduous conifer, one of only a few ‘evergreen’ trees to shed their needles. The willow tree on the edge of the shore had just begun to turn a sunshine yellow, while the Japanese maple were a fiery red. Though the colors are brilliant, true foliage hunters have been disappointed by the poor condition of the leaves, dry and wilted from an unusually mild autumn. I don’t mind such imperfections, however, as they sure beat the beiges and whites of the hospital ward.

I spent the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon engrossed in a writing deadline, which I was able to deliver to the editor on time. I’m pretty happy with the way it came out, and if it all goes according to plan it should be in next weekend’s paper. It is a travel-writing article about a place I visited a year ago and I had honestly forgotten I submitted the proposal until receiving the commission yesterday morning. Such is the world of journalism, where editors are always pushed for time.

I’m currently reading a Robert Macfarlane book entitled Mountains of the Mind , an engaging history of man’s fascination with alpine peaks. While parts of the book veer off into fearful tangents of abstraction, there is one passage in particular that I think can not only relate to mountaineering, but also a lengthy stay in a Japanese hospital. The words in italics I have substituted from the original word mountain:

“Returning to earth after being in the hospital – stepping back out of the wardrobe – can be a disorienting experience. Like Peter, Edmund, Susan, and Lucy returning from Narnia, you expect everything to have changed. You half-expect the first people you see to grip you by the elbow and ask you if you are all right, to say ‘You’ve been away for years.’ But usually no one notices you’ve been gone at all. And the experiences you have had are largely incommunicable to those who were not there. Returning to daily life after a trip to the hospital, I have often felt as though I were a stranger re-entering my country after years abroad, not yet adjusted to my return, and bearing experiences beyond speech.”

It brings up an interesting point about my eventual reintegration into society. While all of my friends will be asking about my experience and concerned about my well-being, a lot of my casual acquaintances will have been completely unaware that I was gone at all. I’m pretty sure I’ll get tired of explaining to every single person about my hospitalization and will eventually just excuse my prolonged absence as being merely down to a case of “being busy.”

Larches in transition

Day 47 (December 7)

Each patient has their own approach to hospital life,  the results for which can be no more apparent than in fashion. About half of them opt for pajamas no matter what time of day, while others prefer the white-trash look of a matching tracksuit. Crocs seem to be the footwear of choice, though I’ve seen a few people crawl their way along the halls in bath slippers.

As for myself, I stroll around in either a pair of shorts or some beige sweatpants, topped with a quick-dry polyester hiking shirt. If I get cold, I’ll slip on a long-sleeve shirt or fleece top. On the feet sandals suit me just fine, a pair of fleece socks to keep the extremities warm. It was still summer when I checked in here, so I don’t have very many winter clothes with me, and no jacket or coat to speak of. I hope it’s a relatively mild day when I do finally get out of here.

I spent most of today on-line doing research for a newspaper article I’m working on for next weekend’s paper. I finally got the go-ahead for the piece which they want to fast track because it’s holiday related. I should be able to finish it tomorrow with an injection of inspiration added to the morning breakfast.

No visitors today, so I went for a bit of a walk outside, but had to cut it short because of the frigid temperatures. I wish I would’ve packed a knit cap with me to protect my ears from the arctic bite. My hair just doesn’t provide enough of a buffer unfortunately. I think my undoing was waiting until later in the afternoon when the sun was near the horizon. Tomorrow should be a bit better because the hospital is completely closed, so I won’t risk running into anyone if I head out earlier.

Today I walked briskly for 30 minutes non-stop, and I didn’t pass out or spit up any blood. I think that alone should warrant my immediate release. Forget about testing my nonexistent phlegm; just bring the Osaka city health department in here so they can see how healthy I am and how guilty they should feel for leaving me in here with these medical freaks of nature. I mean, the guy down the hall is still moaning nonstop like an injured goat, and I am the only person who doesn’t spend 90% of his time lying in a sedentary state of defeat.

My choice of footwear

Day 46 (December 6)

There are some things that you should never have to experience in life; one of which is watching a grown man wash his dentures in the bathroom sink! Even though each patient room is equipped with its own hot-water sink, some choose to do their business in plain view under the faucet that doesn’t even have hot water. I’m not sure which one is worse, the public denture washers or the poor chap who pulls his pants and underwear down to his ankles to urinate. I’ve been witness to both absurd habits and I can truly say I’ve been scarred for life.

Well, Dr. Tamura finally showed up today and told me that the health department wants to wait for the next culture results, which should be available next Wednesday or Thursday, which directly contradicts what Sakai-san said yesterday: the next results are due on December 20th. I asked Sakai and she seemed confused as to why Tamura would have said next Wednesday instead of two weeks from today. Maybe he’s just trying to give me another false sense of hope for early release. I think I’ll stick with the 20th. That way if I’m released earlier it’ll make me happy. So there you have it. I’d say I’ll be out on the 21st of December, which is exactly one month after they first promised I’d be released soon.

I got yet another surprise package from Grace today. The contents of the label said ‘books’ but I was happy to find food when I opened it: fresh pears, acai juice, and corn cake. Just another bit of incredible Brazilian hospitality and thoughtfulness. I’ll need to send her a very nice thank you present once I’m back in the real world.

Kanako stopped by again for a longer visit this time. She brought some homemade rolled sushi that her father made. We sat in the lounge downstairs eating it and talking without the hindrance of face masks. I am no longer contagious, so it’s unnecessary for me to wear a mask out in public, but she still needs to wear a mask in my ward because there are still dozens of people who are spreading germs around. I figure I’ve probably re-infected myself with TB at least 5 or 6 times since I’ve been admitted, but I guess it doesn’t matter once you’re on the antibiotics, as long as someone doesn’t give me the drug-resistant strain. We played a few rounds of Scrabble before she headed off to Taichi practice.

The other big news on the hall is that the pregnant girl with the horrendous cough finally gave birth. I’m pretty sure it was delivered via C-Section because she had a belly the size of a Charlie Brown pumpkin and looked as if she would explode any minute. The newborn child is kept in isolation and the new mother is chauffeured between here and the maternity ward every day to do the nursing and care. It must be frustrating to not be able to take care of your newborn 24 hours a day, but it’s a necessary evil to keep the child safe from infection.

Tomorrow is the start of my 7th weekend in the hospital. I’m wondering if I should try to do something different to mix things up, such as sneaking on a bus and going shopping in Tennoji or something. I’ll definitely try to make it down to the pond again to watch the ducks. The leaves have pretty much all fallen, so my hopes for enjoying the autumn colors have been dashed. Looks like I’ll either have to wait another year or head to the Southern Hemisphere this spring if I want to experience the foliage.

Ice cream time

Day 45 (December 5)

Dr. Tamura was out sick today. “Maybe he finally got TB,” I joked to Sakai-san, for which she sprang back: “well, in that case he can share a room with you and you can show him how to take the meds.” Her positive energy and sense of humor helps me get through each day. With my doctor out of commission I spent yet another day in limbo without a clear explanation of my holdup.

I’ve decided to stop getting my hopes up. Every time I start anticipating my immediate release my optimism gets crushed like a fresh clove being put through a garlic press. I keep getting, in the words of Lou Barlow, “set up for a let-down.” This is the third time that my doctor has said that I’m about to be released, and I keep falling into the same trap. I need to revert back to my reverse psychology , as it’s the only thing keeping me going. Ok, so I’ll just pretend that Dr. Tamura has set my release date for the 7th of March. That way if I get released before then I’ll be pleasantly surprised. Better said than done.

Kanako came by to visit briefly to offer some moral support. Instead of catching up, we spent our cursory time glued to the sheets in an afternoon nap. I was more than happy for a little cuddle with my soulmate and look forward to some more time with my main squeeze tomorrow afternoon. Kanako has a blood test tomorrow to check for TB infection. If she ends up with the disease at least we’ll be able to share a room and maybe we can even sublet the apartment to someone so we won’t lose out on rent.

I got another call from one of my universities, asking me to pay back part of my salary for the month of October since I didn’t work for the entire month. Why do they set payday so early in the month? I don’t mind paying the money back, as it’s a trivial amount, but I explained to the staff that I would be unable to give back the money now, as I’m still in the hospital. She was understanding, and can probably wait until the end of the fiscal year in March until she starts getting antsy.

Other than that, I finished reading yet another book and decided to start another one since my release is likely to be delayed at least 2 or 3 more times before I’m released. I’m wondering if I should go ahead and start decorating my cubicle with some holiday decorations to add a little flair. Maybe I’ll just plaster the walls with pictures of random people looking really happy together with their families, along side a picture of myself and then one of Kanako, a broken heart separating our photos as a symbol of our discontent.

The sunset was a brilliant display of vibrant color. Airlines at cruising altitude streaked across the darkening sky, chased by veins of billowing contrails reflecting portals of light back to earth like the beam of a giant flashlight. A thin crescent moon chased the shadow of the sinking sun, dragging a reluctant Venus along by an imaginary rope strewn arose the blackened depths of the solar system. I stood silently, face pressed against the refrigerated window panes taking in nature’s visual light show. That is, until the pharmacist cut short my hypnotic fixation. I actually told her to come back after the sun had finished setting, a request she actually accommodated. She didn’t have much to say that I hadn’t heard a dozen times before, and she seemed surprised that my nightstand was lined with fresh apples. I guess most patients don’t practice such healthy conventions, opting instead for the additive rich nutrients of a bag of potato chips.

The sunset

Day 44 (December 4)

Several people have asked me what it feels like being hospitalized. I can honestly say it’s one of the truest tests of patience you’re likely to encounter. Imagine being on a trans-atlantic flight that is in a holding pattern, circling the runway while waiting for permission to land. Now imagine that flight has 2 months worth of fuel in the tank and no hurry to make its final approach for landing. Passengers on the plane can alternate their time between their in-flight entertainment and a paperback novel. Alcoholic beverages have been stopped due to the proximity of the airport, but meals are still being served. You can get up, stretch your legs, and go to the restroom all you’d like, but there’s no way of disembarking until the wheels touch the ground and the pilot taxis into the gate. How long would it take you to snap?

This morning I got a surprise telephone call from my friend Andrew, who lives in Sydney, Australia. I’ve known him for years and he even helped me prepare for my wedding. We had tried to Skype but the timing just wasn’t working out, so he called my cell phone. At first he spoke in Japanese and I had the hardest time figuring out who it was until he broke into his familiar Aussie accent. We talked for about an hour and caught up about life. That definitely helped break up the monotony of the day.

In the afternoon, I received a cryptic note from Dr. Tamura informing that my release from the hospital will be “around” the end of next week.  Since my doctor had the day off, the note was delivered by the head nurse. The note was mysteriously written in English, so I have no idea if Tamura wrote it himself or had one of his assistants translate it for him (he doesn’t speak very much English at all). I will ask for a bit of clarification tomorrow and try to figure out the reason why I have to stay an extra week and a half even though I’ve been cleared for release. I guess someone at the health department is getting a kick out of watching me suffer.

The only logical explanation I can think of is that they want to wait for the next results of the bacterial culture to come through, which I’m pretty sure will be negative (since the microscopic test was negative). The test result should come either tomorrow or Friday, so there’s no reason to hold me any longer. My guess is that since the health department is only open from Monday to Friday they realize they can’t finish the paperwork this week and won’t start on it until next Monday, which will leave me high and dry and it yet another holding pattern in my never-ending saga. I’m pretty sure it would take less time to fill out the paperwork for parole than it would be to finish this long-drawn process for hospital release.

The only positive thing about the rest of the day is that I finished another writing project that was sent off to the editor of a magazine. That makes the third article I’ve written since being in here. At least my ridiculous predicament is providing plenty of creative inspiration.

The note from Dr. Tamura

 

Day 43 (December 3)

Mornings here are the toughest part of hospitalization for me. I absolutely despise getting up early. Unless I’m getting paid or if I’m headed out on a hike, I prefer to lie in bed until at least a reasonable hour of 8am. Anything earlier than that is bordering on the obscene. Now that the sun is rising later and later, when they turn on the hallway lights at 6am a bright fluorescent glow drifts over my sleeping space, nudging me awake. I groan, covering my eyes with a fleece jacket before once again joining the world of dreams. At 7am, the nurse comes in to say Good Morning and to ask us if there’s been any change in our condition. Is this really necessary? I mean they could enter the room quietly, sneak into our sleeping space, and softly and stealthily check for a pulse. Better yet, just hook us up to cardiac monitors and only enter the room when we use the nurse call button. Isn’t that the purpose for the button? I always feign sleep so when the nurses enter my space they always end up saying “Good Mor….Oh, he’s still asleep!”, before walking away dejectedly. I manage a few more winks before 7:30am, when the trash lady comes in to say “Sorry” for taking out our garbage. If I’m feeling particularly heavy-eyed, I’ll sneak in another nap before breakfast is delivered at 8am.

Now you can see why I feel so stressed out in the hospital. Imagine waking up every morning at 6am, weekends included. In my childhood I had to wake up at 6:30am, and that was a mighty struggle. Along with my slumber struggles , my posture is taking a licking. The stretching seems to help, but the back discomfort is screaming for the magical hands of Kanako, who can knead my muscles back to health.

Speaking of kneading myself back to health, my test results are in. I tested pa-pa-pa-pa positive, as in positively NEGATIVE! Woo hoo! Dr. Tamura has approved my release, and there’s only one thing standing in the way of my freedom: the health department. Yes, the very same people that I lost my temper with a few weeks ago. It turns out they have the final decision about when patients get released. 9 times out of 10 they agree with the doctors recommendation, but trusty nurse Sakai-san said that they sometimes request an additional negative test just to make sure that the patient is completely safe. My doctor put a call into the health department but they haven’t returned with their verdict. Are they all sitting around a conference table deciding on my fate, or was the person in charge of making those decisions out of the office? Looks like I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to get the final answer. I’ve been left hanging so many times over the past few weeks I’m starting to wonder if I should enter a limbo contest.

My sputum test results