The last couple of weeks I have been leaving an altered life here in Japan. Altered in that I have been living it myself without my usual partner in crime, who is currently living it up in the States doing final stage wedding planning.
One thing I have realized in that time is how little I interact if I can help it here. The whole awkward charades game and Russian roulette of getting someone who can speak enough English to help you out wears me out. Takes more energy than you would expect to do such things. I accept most of it is me and my aversion to making a right boob out of myself. In most cases people are generally more than happy to struggle through a game of charades and continued talking as you look for various words that mean what you trying to convey – waiting for one of them to be understood to a degree. But for me I am happy to be an island, in the world’s most densely populated country. I realized that when Megan left for the US on a Friday at 2 p.m., that I didn’t make a noise or say anything until the following Sunday at around 4 p.m. when I spoke with my parents! My voice seemed unusually loud, and my lips and tongue rather lazy. Soon enough on Monday mornings people will think I’m watching My Fair Lady as I exercise my vocal skills before I turn up to work on Monday morning sounding like I’ve had a stroke – or a bottle of muscle relaxants.
And I realize this at the same time I realize – though I had accepted this before – I rely on Megan to manage all those draining engagements with people. The questions that follow even the most simple tasks. Like buying a cake – do you want something written on it?! Do you want it wrapped? Do you need ice packs in the bag? Do you think it’s going to rain I can put a rain coat on the bag too for you? How do you want to pay? Do you want to make just one payment on your card or more than one?! Etc etc etc !
I realized this – and the draining impact of engagement – just yesterday when I had to have my work medical . My oh my there is nothing quite like the workplace medical exam to test your Japanese skills (which are up there with my skills to do competition level synchronized swimming). How does one do a eye test when one can’t speak the language of the person administering the test?! Well you play charades with them describing what you’re seeing. I’m not so sure how they convert my charades score with my eye sight score, but I wasn’t given a cane and they didn’t lead me away from that test by the hand (that came later) so I guess she defaulted to “well he is wearing glasses so unless he is a total idiot he probably manages his eye sight. For the record I understood “Ma-Deh Juu-Ichi” which is “until 11” so I just read off number 1 -11. Lucky I understood this because the numbers 12 – 20 looked more like someone had sneezed on the test plate more than actual identifiable symbols and I would have been working on a piece of fiction when answering those items.
Also, for the record, when someone is talking to you and waving at your clothes before your hoping on an integrated height and weight scale, then want you to empty your pockets. I didn’t figure this out (though I saw the shoe horn so I figured I had to remove my shoes). So in defense on my weight there was a blackberry, my mobile and my work iphone in my pockets, with my wallet, and I was in a suit. So I was loaded up. She also looked at me after a while and must have thought “awww stuff it its only like a pound more and he might not even realize that this is a scale” and just took the measurement.
Blood pressure I just smiled and nodded as they talked and talked and talked, but I mean there isn’t much I have to do for that but just put my hand out and act understanding. The fact that I was ‘normal high’ (thanks Gabs) in light of such an experience is a bloody miracle to me. I must be cool as a cucumber on a regular day!
Taking blood was a ethical struggle for the nurse, who realized as she pointed to all the warning rules (that she had to read and tick I understood) that I was nodding my head without understanding a word she was saying. I am fairly sure at one point she said “the test is likely to kill you and we will dispose of you at the nearest bridge underpass, is this ok’ and I happily nodded “hai”. She probably appreciated my see through white-lawyer-guy arms and being able to find a vain though. So I guess I helped out there some.
The nurse who measured my waist was happy to do charade my taking my top off, as was the lady in the eco-cardigram. The hearing test lady just pointed at the headphones and the button and played some noises and then waved me off. That one is pretty fool proof so she had it lucky.
The actual doctor had the worst part of the deal. I had to answer what appeared to be around 20 questions about my health. She tried to asked two questions in English, both of which I answered yes to “given they were “are you alive” and “are you well” (the second me thinks we an internal correction of the first which was perhaps accepted as being a little too general). After that just gave up, poked, prodded, listened for around 15 seconds then ticked all 20 boxes. Personally, I don’t blame her at all and I am glad that she did – I can’t imagine what it would have been like trying to guess the meaning of each and every charades question. That and she has a quota to fill which doesn’t take into account some crazy Aussie who has chosen to live and work in a country without first learning the language!
After this I was on the home stretch. Firstly, I was given some translation assistance for the urine sample. And can I say – thank god for that! Being handed a cup with measured increments from 25ml (‘the shot’) all the way to 120ml (‘the big gulp’) I wouldn’t have had a clue just how much sampling they wanted. As it turns out it was the very first line – 25ml. I can’t imagine the look on the face of the collection lady if I had come out having filled the thing to the top line. I’m sure I would have looked like your pet car that brings a dead bird in proud as punch of entirely unaware of your being totally ticked off!
The x-ray was manageable with the use of poking and prodding of me into position – a very nuanced position it would seem – and then presumably me needing to stay still until I heard the click. None of the prodding and limb manipulation seemed to be with any malice so I think that I managed to obey the commands in a non offensive manner.
At the end of this crazy process I followed the flow of people and returned my RFID identification tag so that they could confirm all the data had been properly allocated to me – ruk sama as I had frequently confirmed. The rather homely looking final nurse gave me two thumbs up and a “its ok” which I took as my cue to beat a hasty retreat to my department, which mercifully has more English speakers.
The moral of the story was – 90 minutes of this process done, I was knackered. In part because I had to fast before it (search me why) which meant I was without dinner, breakie or coffee that morning, and the other half being any type of interaction really takes it out of you! Having to do a medical – REALLY takes it out of you. And I’m not the worlds biggest fan of watching my blood pump into vials when I haven’t eaten or drunk anything but water in 15 hours.
This ends up being one of those “for everything else, there’s MasterCard” moments – in that whilst you have to take your own medical – for everything else if there is a better half that can, trade favors and stay on your island!
An Aussie In Japan 