Dr. Feelgood Redux

Reprinted by popular demand--because I accidentally posted a story for this morning (my time) yesterday evening--is my first experience at a Japanese hospital.

Cue ominous music.

Duhn-duhn-duhnnnnn.

It's not for the weak of heart or stomach.

Originally written for your perusal back in December of 2009 when this blog was getting about 400 hits a month... I repeat it again today considering I get well over that in a single day now... so some of you may have missed it the first time. Count yourselves lucky.

Regardless... for all of your new readers who accidentally stumble across this blog searching for data and photos on Miss Universe or information on soccer, thanks for sticking around... it makes me feel good.

Enjoy my blast from the past HERE.

Somewhere trying to tie up my hospital gown
(but secretly enjoying showing off my butt),
Andrew Joseph
Enjoy some Motley Crue while you are at it: DRUGS

Japanese Children & Radiation

A report was released on Thursday, August 18, 2011in Japan noting that some 45 per cent of the children up to the age of 15 tested living in the area around the Fukushima-ken Dai-ichi (Big One) nuclear facility had some traces of radioactive elements in their thyroid glands.



The tests were actually done five months ago--about two weeks after the March 11 9.0 Magnitude earthquake spawned a massive tsunami that helped cripple the Dai-ichi nuclear facility that spewed radioactive materials into the air.



While the trace amounts of radioactive elements in the thyroids is not considered alarming for the long-term prospects of these children affected, an official notes that that: "The government's official position is that none of the children showed
radiation levels that would be problematic."



Following the radioactive exposure, 1,149 children were tested. Radioactive iodine is an element that can easily gather in the thyroid glands of children, which if left untreated, or with constant exposure, can lead to an increased risk of cancer later in life.



Files compiled by Andrew Joseph

I'm So Tired

I'm going to combine two days today....  mostly because, well...

It's Wednesday, August 21, 1991 here in Ohtawara-shi, Tochigi-ken, Japan. Today, is the first time I've been alone in about a month or more.

I've always been a bit of a loner. Sure I enjoy company, but I also like being able to just be by myself... you know, to just be.

The past 13 months here in Japan have been hectic. I've had a girlfriend or 12 since first arriving, drunk more booze than I had ever done in my first 25-1/2 years, eaten a lot of strange, but wonderful foods, and have had the time of my life. I've had girlfriends, stalkers, uninvited visitors, visitors, strange phone calls, learned how to cook, clean, do laundry and iron.

Of course, today being the first time I've been alone in so long, I'm still sick... I picked up the runs while in Thailand. Never ever have an drink (of Coke) containing ice cubes. Sure... perhaps do so at a good hotel or restaurant, but I had mine up near the Burma border in a small podunk of a village. Mistake.

That was eight days ago. I am still sick, but just not so bad. Perhaps it's because I'm not eating.

I do a load of laundry (the medicine for my mind), do some rough drafts of It's A Wonderful Rife for the Tochigi-ken JET (Japan Exchange & Teaching) Programme monthly newsletter I am the editor for (The Tatami Times) - I haven't written in a while, and it makes me feel antsy.

Pretty cool huh? I feel antsy because I haven't written, while a mere three years ago, the thought of being a writer/journalist was the farthest thing from my mind. Japan? I never thought about that until a year and a half a go. Never knew I wanted to work or live or even visit there. Strange old world we live in, eh?

I laze around all day long hoping that Mathew or Ashley will phone. Ashley is my ex, and current friend-with-benefits. She arrived back in Japan yesterday evening (she's jet-lagged, I'm sure) (I wonder if she realizes I stocked her fridge for her so she'd have food and drink when she got back, realizing that she'd be too tired to go out shopping? Probably not.)

Matthew calls at 3PM, and we small talk. Despite being a loner, it's good to hear other people's voices - and Matthew has been a god-send for me. Considering the other people on JET who hate each other and never do anything with each other even though they live in the same town or city, I really lucked in.

I go to sleep for a few hours and ignore Kanemaru-san's frantic ringing of my doorbell at 6PM when he comes to take me to kyudo (Japanese archery) practice. I love Kanemaru-san. He's my boss at the Ohtawara Board of Education, but I really don't like kyudo. I just don't want to disappoint him by quitting.. but at least I have an excuse this evening... I'm sick.

And what is with the Japanese ability to not understand that someone is unavailable.... I mean ringing the doorbell 30 times? It's a 3-bedroom apartment... if I don't get to you after four rings, I'm either not home, having sex or dead! And the telephone... a gaijin (foreigner) will call and hang-up after seven rings or so... a Nihonjin (Japanese person) will let it ring 20 or 30 times. Granted, they are correct - I am home, but maybe I don't want to be bothered. When I do get calls I ignore, it's because I am sick or boinking a woman—two excellent reasons not to answer the door or telephone. I've never been sick of boinking a woman, though with Kristine here the last few days, I was actually to sick to boink.

Man... I had it all planned out! Right to when she left for home, I had Ashley back. Stupid ice cubes.

The dysentery is taking its toll. I feel lighter, but not skinnier. My stomach is puffing out. I could be a poster boy for starving kids.

I sit and watch videos late into the night while feeling sorry for myself.

Twenty years later, I would just say to 1991 Andrew... "You idiot! You're in Japan!  You've had more sex in 13 months than some people have in a lifetime! Plus a three-way! Plus sex with a stalker! Do you know who has sex with a stalker? A man does! Men are idiots. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and enjoy the day! You're in Japan and the opportunity may never come your way again!"

Of course, my yelling at 1991 Andrew doesn't change the fact that he still has some growing up to do.

It's Thursday, August 22, 1991.

I get up and do some of my puzzle of The Tower of Babel... a 5000 piece one that is being more difficult to do than the one I did of the Universe (all black with little white splotches for stars).

I wish someone would call. You'll notice I don't call anyone. Idiot.

Teh pills Kristine gave me a couple of days ago are only partially working. That means they aren't. As such, I threaten myself into going into work and ask to be taken in to a doctor. But I don't. It's not just a Japanese doctor thing. I never like doctors - period.

"Well, Andrew... what seems to be wrong?
"I don't know. Isn't that your job?"

Here with a language barrier, it's worse. Not only do doctors smoke in hospitals - what is this the 1950s? - but every medicine I have ever received from a hospital comes in a waxy envelope the size of a disposable razor blade... do people in 2011 still know what a disposable razor blade is? HERE.

No one calls, and I don't call anyone. It's literally the first time since arriving in Japan that I don't talk to another human being. I did yell at the dog across the street to shut up - I even yelled it in Japanese! - but he ignored me.

And what about Ashley? Is she still jetlagged? Doesn't she want to see me? What about thanking me for the food? It's okay... Y10,000 (Cdn/US $100) of food is no big deal. That was sarcasm. How do you write sarcasm in print? Italics?

Somewhere with too much time on my hands,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is by The Beatles: I told you I could do them for every mood!: NOZZZZZZZ

Stem Cells For Nuclear Workers?

Because I happen to enjoy a kettle of fish - let's open one up. Okay... I'm opening up two kettles of fish.

Apparently Japanese officials are looking to collect and freeze blood stem cells from the engineers and water canon operators who have been working to clean-up and fix the Dai-ichi (Big One) nuclear reactors in Fukushima-ken following the near nuclear meltdown caused by the March 11, 2011 Sendai 9.0 Magnitude earthquake and subsequent 10 metres high tsunami.

Why? Just in case these workers have been exposed to high levels of radiation - a distinct possibility. Exposure to the high levels of radiation can cause serious illnesses and death - from bone marrow cancer... but the contingency plan notes that if someone is treated very quickly after exposure and gets stem cell transplants, people can recover.

How doe you get stem cells? In this case, the nuclear workers take a particular drug for a few days straight that makes the bone marrow release stem cells into the bloodstream. The patient is hooked up to a machine that filters their blood and extracts the stem cells.

More than 50 hospitals across Europe have agreed to help Japan if needed.

Of course, while the stem cell transplant would indeed help resolve any bone marrow problems due to radiation, there is still the problem of what the radiation is doing to other soft tissue organs, like the lungs or skin.

While some in the medical field feel this may resolve only one problem out of many, it is still a waste of time. Really? What should they do... nothing and wait until people get sick, diagnose what the problems are and then try and figure out how to cure them while lamenting the fact that you can't do anything?!

It's called trying.

And, just like how the whole country is reeling with the tsunami and earthquake victims still homeless or hungry - you have to do something.

Japan is trying to ensure there is still a country left for the earthquake and tsunami survivors to live in by ensuring that the country doesn't explode in a nuclear conflagration. And don't let anyone tell you otherwise - radiating a large chunk of Japan was a very real (almost happened) possibility that is now under more control.

Make sure no one else dies. And, if that means people have to suffer a little bit longer, so be it. But... maybe the people not affected could do more than give money or cloths or tents or blankets. 

While Japan's precautions regarding its Dai-ichi facility are well known as not having been good enough in the past, right now people in charge of the workers are trying to have a cure for those who may or may not get ill. Granted it's just one possible cure for one possible problem... but you have to start somewhere. 

For the rest of Japan... don't worry. Be strong. Be brave. Be yourselves. I always found the Japanese to be extremely kind and warm and generous. Open up your homes to families that need the help. No one needs to be homeless right now. No one.

You have to do something. You have to try.

Somewhere on an ivory pedestal,
Andrew Joseph
PS: I know it's easier said than done - but many small deeds can lead bigger and better results.

TV Dinners

This is what we call - interesting timing.

The school my son goes to here in Toronto, is holding a rather self-serving event called staff appreciation lunch, where parents bring in food for the teachers.

First of - what the fug?

I don't really have a problem with parents wanting to do something nice for their kid's teacher, as this does allow for a good time to suck up for Junior's need for better grades in Senior Kindergarten. Still... this appears to be a school event: Like please feed us. we're poor teachers and can't afford our own food.

Anyhow... the whole exercise was just a way to segue into the topic of the day. 

This past Tuesday, nine schools in Japan were hit with what appears to be food poisoning, brought on by the ingestion of a school lunch.

So far, over 1,000 students and teachers at nine elementary and junior high schools in Iwamizawa-shi (City of Iwamizawa) in Hokkaido, Japan have been hit and hit hard, causing the closure of the institutions since Monday.

According to reports, Salmonella bacteria has been detected in fecal samples from five stricken children with the number of people with symptoms including nausea and fever rising to 1,048 on Tuesday, including 998 pupils and 50 teachers and workers.

The pupils started exhibiting the symptoms on Friday after eating lunch the previous day which was cooked in the school kitchens for some 3,100 students.

So... do the teacher's at my son's school really want to be fed by the parents?

Somewhere wondering what the heck they ate in Hokkaido,
Andrew Joseph
Today's blog title is barfed by ZZ Top: SAUCEISNOTTOOBLUE

Doctor My Eyes

At the time of this writing, I either have pink eye, allergies, or I've scratched my cornea. Back in 1991, while in Ohtawara, I scratched the old eyeball - probably by putting in and taking out my contact lenses.
Despite such a tiny thing, a scratch on the cornea is actually quite painful - it feels like there is grit under the eyelid - and every time one blinks - pain.
So... in Japan, I did what any one would do... I told my bosses at the Ohtawara Board of Education (OBOE) Hanazaki-san and Kanemaru-san about it six days later after they saw me wincing as I tried to wink at a pretty office worker.
They took me to the Ohtawara hospital. The doctor came out to see me with a lit cigarette dangling from his lower lip. He pulled the lower lid down, examined my eye (no gloves!) and told Kanemaru-san that I had a scratch on my cornea... of course it took poor Kanemaru-san about three minutes of deft dictionary work to relate that information to me--he would get quicker over the years, though.
The solution? Some strange purple powder given to me in a wax paper package and to tell me to rest my eye... that is, no contact lens wearing.
Crap! Thanks to a 20:800 vision, my glasses are as thick as my baby finger, and those are already the slim version of lenses... the distortion on them can hypnotize anyone who looks into my eyes. Hmmm... I think that could come in handy one day.

Every time I was sick in Japan, I was given opaque wax packets of some handy-dandy purple powder. I have no idea what it was, but apparently it's a panacea (cure-all) for everything! Pooping too much? Have some purple powder. Scratched cornea? Purple powder. Bruised ribs after a bike accident or two? Purple powder.
You can read about another hospital visit and the infamous purple powder HERE.
Anyhow... After one day of wearing my distortion hypno-glasses to school, where even the students who liked me were afraid, I decided to wear a single contact lens in the good eye and construct an eye patch for the other.

In fact, the home economics teacher at Ohtawara Junior High School cut up a piece of leather (probably from her own leather coat - she was so generous! I probably should have slept with her to properly thank her), and then sewed on a stretchy hair band I happened to have with me...
I always cared an extra length of stretch hairband rope in case my hairband broke...   at home in my apartment, I had rolls of black, red, blue and purple, figuring one of those colours would perfectly match whatever clothing I was wearing that day. Yes... I was probably a metro-sexual before that term became known.
 Obviously, the hairband was for my ponytail. By the way... the OBOE thought my hair look kakkoii (cool - it's pronounced kewl, though the Japanese might say "cah-coo-ee"). However, some other AETs were told by their respective offices: "Jim-san... your hair is getting long - perhaps it is time for a haircut."
Me? I was like Ferris Bueller. I could do no wrong with the OBOE.
So... I had to wear an eye-patch for two weeks... but here's the thing... my students thought I looked cool with the eyeptach. Some of the Japanese ladies at the 4-Carat bar where I hung out on the weekend in Ohtawara thought I looked cool. And, perhaps most importantly, I did too.
Ego... thy name is An-do-ryu. Anyhow... the two weeks passed, and I kept the eye-patch on - at least in public. In fact... I wore it for about five weeks longer than I needed to. It was hot and it was sweaty... but remember, it's better to look good than to feel good.

Somewhere squinting,
Andrew Joseph
Today's title is by Jackson Browne... see HERE for a video.
PS - As luck would have it, I scratched by cornea again about a year later. One word from a female AET I liked had me convinced that I didn't look cool enough for her to sleep with me... but once that eyepatch came off, I really caught her eye.
PPS: The photo above is a pirate mug (with lid) I purchased at Tokyo Disneyland when I was with Shinobu... whose tease was rated "Arrrrrrr." Read that one, me MATEY.

Bicycle Race

Shocked Sakuyama Jr. High students drive by a bike accident;

 see the prowling white car and speed limit. 

This was originally entitled: Bicycle Safety Tips, and rather adequately sums up what I am going to offer here. Of course, these are bicycle safety tips for surviving Japan. I can't speak for China, Vietnam or Canada, but the following knowledge can be applied here in Japan. Specifically in Ohtawara-shi.

Ever since I was shmucked by cars in a couple of bike accidents, I've tried to come up with ways the whole thing could have been avoided, as a fear of death and/or pain makes me a bit nervous. The one thing I did realize, however, is that everyone in Japan is a lousy car driver.

Everything seems like a contest. In Canada (and the US), there's that game we like to play when we drive (No, not that wimpy license plate game - ooh! I see Vermont!), where we designate points for people and objects we would pretend or want to hit? It's a stress reliever. Unfortunately, in Japan, drivers don't seem to understand the 'pretend' part.

In Japan, speed limits are painted onto the road's surface. However, I am no longer convinced that that is what it is. Y'see, as I was riding my bicycle ever-so carefully past the scene of one of my accidents, I saw them changing the 'speed' from 40- to 41 kph!  I think it was noting how many people had an accident!

So stay away from all roads with high numbers on them. The Tohoku Expressway that runs past Ohtawara and links Tokyo up through the northern provinces seems like an especially dangerous zone--its got 100 written all over it. KPH? Maybe it stands for Kills Per Hashi (it means 'bridge' - hashi is also how you say the word for chopsticks, as they were both made of wood back in the old days). Danger. Highways are bad.

Bicycle Paths: Some cities and towns have specially designated areas where riders may journey in safety. They consist of a level stretch of pavement away from the dangerous numbered roads. They even have lanes to separate walkers from cyclists. However, this is not the time to relax. Danger lurks everywhere. Although the casual stroller knows enough to keep to his/ehr side of the path, their pets can't read the signs. Or, if they can, choose to ignore them.

Oft times, the critters are on a leash--but that doesn't stop them from stretching the 'chain-o-death' across your bike route and its master. It is therefore a good plan to have your brakes checked regularly and to always carry arm and leg splints in your Hello Kitty backpack. As for the little kids who occasionally dart in your path? Well, they're worth 10 points apiece. Double if they're looking at you.  

The Right Of Way: The right of way at an intersection is a dicey affair. In Japan, it is determined by whomever has the largest vehicle. Bike riders take note: although your bicycle may be larger than most Japanese compact cars, the vehicles generally possess more working plastic parts and can therefore do more damage.

In cases where there is a tie, passage will be denied to the person who attempts to make eye contact with the other person. In Japan, eye contact implies: Dozo, which means 'please go ahead.'

Four-Way Stops At Night: Most night-time bike riders in Japan when approaching a four-way intersection merely check for headlights to avoid having to stop. This, I repeat, this is not a good idea! Even though this may seem like a fool-proof indicator of an approaching motor vehicle, the same does not hold true for other cyclists. Most older people (anyone over 31- this figure should be updated to 2010 numbers of 45) tend not to use their headlights - or simply aren't aware that their bikes possesses one. This can create large problems and and an extended hospital stay for you, the safe rider.

I did indeed watch two cyclists speed through a four-way stop from perpendicular directions, only to plow into each other. It was very funny, in a broken arm kind of way.

High Beams (on cars): There is perhaps nothing worse than having to ride your bike at night towards some moron in a white car who has the high beams on. I've got a friend who shall remain nameless (it's my frequent-but-not-all-the-time-girlfriend, Ashley) who tries to discourage would-be morons by riding up in the middle of the road (on her bike with the light on) at the offending vehicle. Although she hasn't been hit yet (knock wood - or something which looks vaguely like wood but has a plastic-like smell to it), it's simply not a very good idea. Avoid this plan like natto, and simply wait for the moron-wannabe to come within earshot and then shout every expletive in the book at them. While they won't understand a word you say, you'll feel better and you won't get killed.  

So... what have we learned?

• Well, don't ride your bicycle in areas where the speed limit is too great;

• Have your brakes checked regularly;

• Crossing a street without a traffic light is extremely difficult;

• Beware of stupid people who don't use their bike light;

• Improve your vocabulary;

• Get more health insurance.

Somewhere I can see the light,
Andrew Joseph
Today's title is brought to us by Queen - As always, you can view a video of the title song here: INTERSECTION.
PS: While I may be exaggerating about the speed limit kill zone, being a bike rider in Japan is dangerous, as I firmly believe that the average Japanese driver would never pass a driver's test here in Canada.

Born Under A Bad Sign

Have you ever had one of those days when absolutely nothing went according to plan? Well, when you live in a place for nearly a year and you still can't speak the lingo or understand anybody, you don't make too many plans, but fortunately for you, oh gentle reader, it has made for an interesting rife.

One of my most 'enjoyable' but embarrassing moments occurred whilst I was visiting Chikasono Chu Gakko (Chikasono Junior High School). I was standing at the urinal doing my business when a couple of girls walked by the doorway (there are no doors in Japanese public washrooms) and waved hello to me. I, unfortunately (or fortunately  for this blog) waved back. With the wrong hand. Whoops.

Later that day at lunch, I was asked the question all foreigners are asked by curious Japanese folk: "Can you use Japanese chopsticks?" It was in English, too!

Not to belabour a point, but there is a difference in chopsticks between Asian nations, and this SITE can offer you more--so it is perfectly fins for the Japanese to mention the country of origin when asking that question. Anyhow, Japanese chopsticks are called hashi. Check OUT this site for more on chopsticks and a photo of natto (rotting soy beans). 

Now, as for the answer to that question about my adroitness using the hashi (chopsticks), I had been taught by my boss, Hanazaki-san about a week after landing in Ohtawara. He taught me using a pen and a pencil in lieu of the chopsticks - placing my ego aside for a moment, I am quite adept at using them, as I am able to quickly pick up single grains of rice or smooth round beans with ease.

However, on this particular day, after I answered in the affirmative (Hai!), as if on cue, I dropped the chunk of stewed squid onto my white dress shirt. The only plus from this moment was that I made two kids laugh hard enough for milk to squirt out of their noses. At least I think it was milk.

After lunch, I, as per my norm, walked alone around the school as it is easier to pass gas that way. Unfortunately, the kids at Chikasono seem to be very friendly kids (mostly farm kids, as Chikasono is smack-dab in the middle of Ohtawara's farming community - even though it seems to be mostly a farming community) - I was beset upon by what seemed to be hundreds of girls lining the hallway looking, pointing, smiling and waving frantically at me. My now replaced ego would tell you that this is a normal occurrence.   

Anyhow, one girl finally worked up the courage to come up and talk to me. Before turning a brilliant shade of red and bursting into laughter, she had time to say: "Zippa down!" Hey, at least it was English!

Geez. I wonder if it had been a left-over by-product from the wave incident. Man... and I thought these girl's liked me for my sense of humour and good looks. And what the heck were they doing looking down there anyways?

Next up, I received a phone call from Hanazaki-san wanting to know why I had flipped off (given the finger) to the Kocho Sensei (school principal) from the Ohtawara Senior Girl's High School (well, there goes ANY chance of me getting to visit that school). I tried to explain that I didn't know it was anybody important who had splashed a mud puddle on me when he had driven by this morning. When I added that I thought it was just a science teacher, Hanazaki-san bought my story and all was forgotten and almost dry. My explanation was also in English!

So... there I was - having a really bad day (though my hair was perfect - I'm very vain about my hair. It's the one vanity I have that I will admit too). To make this a completely cruddy day (I am excluding the possibility of anyone here jumping up to mess up my hair), all I needed was to have students try and strike up a conversation with me.

Friendly buggers, they were right on time. It seems that during my personal introductions here during my last visit, I must have mentioned that I could slam dunk a basketball. The kids had finally looked up the words to call my bluff. Y'see, I figured that by the time they had learned enough English to ask the question, I'd be home in Toronto after my one-year gig was up. Smart buggers. Anyhow, I had assumed that since the average Japanese person is as tall as a Frenchman (5'-8"), that the basketball hoops would be lower. So I don't know basketball very well.

What a day: I've been caught for a liar; flipped a principal the finger; have muddy pants with squid stains on my shirt; and I've exposed myself. Twice. The only way I could possibly top this school day would be to have an adventure at my acupuncturist. 

My back has been a bit of a problem since I got here. It has been relieved by the new double bed generously given to me as a gift by a Japanese family (Ashley and I and a few others, say thanks), but my bosses Hanazaki-san and Kanemaru-san had made my first appointment for me for today.

I rode my bicycle to the doctor's office and upon walking through the door, was quickly ushered into a room (perhaps so no one else could see a gaijin (foreigner) take off his pants and shirt). Doctor XXX (they told me his name once, but I quickly mis-remembered it as I am lousy with names and faces, which sucks when everyone here in Ohtawara seems to know who I am) had me lie on my stomach. 

I guess the day's events had made me unusually tense, but I screamed 34 times as 34 needles were plunged into my neck, back, but and back of my thigh. Apparently, acupuncture isn't supposed to hurt at all. It it must be true because I never heard the doctor scream even once.

As the needles were removed, the doctor rotated them slowly and lifted the out starting at the top and working down. As each needle left my body, so too did the pain, as it travelled down to the next needle, causing me to cry out. 

The 298-year-old man lying on the table beside me laughed at my wimpiness and called me the Japanese equivalent of a cat. 

Sore physically and emotionally, I went home and crawled into bed. Alone.

Somewhere knowing I have four more days left until the weekend,

Andrew Joseph

PS: Today's Title is found HERE , and was originally performed by Blues legend Albert King, and was written by Booker T. Jones who fronted Booker T & the MGs.  Check out THEIR hit with Donald Duck Dunn on bass... who was the pipe-smoking bass player in the classic The Blues Brothers movie - everyone has seen it, so here's something DIFFERENT.

Bad Case Of Loving You (Doctor, Doctor)

So, with my crappy eating habits (chili con carne three nights a week, spaghetti once or twice, and a prepared Japanese meal purchased from the local AiAi grocery store two or there times a week), it was no wonder that along with an increase in my waist line, I was also going to end up with some gastrointestinal disorder. And so it came to pass. And pass. And pass.

I had to spend a night in a Japanese hospital. Cue music! (DUN-DUN-DUNnnnnn!)

It started when my office (the OBOE - Ohtawara Board of Education) wanted me to take a physical to prove to my students that my stomach was a second gaijin (foreigner), as the thought of that frightened many. For some reason, the guy from my office who usually sits by the second incredible huge stack of papers to the left of the door--his name has only been whispered about, like he's a gajin or something), drove me to the local hospital - Ohtawara General Hospital - for my examination.

Apparently a few short weeks ago, this hospital was fingered by the national newspapers for a problem with morality. Here's why: 

When a person requires medicine, the hospital sells it to them in small waxen packages. the contents are invariably a fine purple powder that tastes like grapes, if grapes tasted like rotting road kill. Now, if there is an excess of medicine remaining after you are either cured or die of complications brought on by said medicine, your or your next of kin who is female is required to bring the remaining packages back to the hospital. Now, you might think this would get one some financial relief - but no! The hospital in its infinite wisdom does not offer the partial refund, instead merely offering a bow (the nod to those less superior than the medical community) (that's everyone) while offering a 'sumimasen' (excuse me). The medicine is then re-sold to the next sick person with an exact but not necessarily similar illness. It's called double charging. It sounds so... I don't know... international?

So, I was dropped off by the nameless guy who then excused himself to go back to the office to hide within his paperwork. A nurse came out, noticed there was a gaijin in the waiting room (me), and quickly ran away to hide in the nurse's room (aka closet). A short few hours later, a tired doctor with a cigarette dangling precariously from his lips approached, coughed some acrid smoke on me and told me in perfect English English (like from England) to: "Take this off", "Cough now", "Spread this," "Urinate into that", I almost got the order right.

Turns out I had blood in my urine (unrelated to my gut, but a welcome diagnosis). I figured they could just slap a Band-Aid on it, but no, they wanted me to stay over night for further tests and observation. Ha! As if I'm not observed enough already in this country.

So I'm lying there in my semi-private room with 40 other hapless souls listening to the Enka music (Japanese muzak) being piped over the speaker system. (Click HERE , if you dare) (okay, it's not that bad) (And the girl is cute). At this time, the nurses began singing along with a portable karaoke machine (karaoke translates into 'crappy Asian singing contest').

All of us sickos were wearing white gowns open at the back. The rear opening gown is an international thing designed to give the nurses a thrill, make'em laugh or a chance for us to catch double pneumonia and an opportunity for an extended, expensive hospital stay.

After a while of mind-numbing numbness brought on by the Enka music (I think it's called general anesthetic here in Japan), an orderly rattled in with our dinners. Talk about internationalization! This was just like being back home! In a hospital! With bland, grey food containing just the right amount of mystery animal (I guessed squid), vegetable (no clue) and mineral (mica) to make it a challenge to keep in one's gullet.

I was wrong, though. It was natto (rotting/fermenting soy beans). But, since I like natto, I ate my grey glob and licked my wooden hashi (chopsticks) clean so that they could be used by the next patient. Trust me. It was a bonus to be served natto first.

Still swallowing the goopy goop, the doctor came in with his cigarette and told the nurses to stop with the karaoke. The airwaves swelled up with the Sounds of Silence as the Simon & Garfunkel tune continued to play without words. Because he was busy smoking, the doctor performed pantomime to inform me that my urine sample had been switched with someone else, though judging by the side of my stomach there was still a chance I could be pregnant.

I tapped my belly, and with my mouth still trying to chew the stringy mess that is natto, I mumbled "Budweiser onegaishimasu" (Beer me, please). 

The doctor smiled and said I was "Fine thank-you, and you?"

I happily rolled off the wheeled stretcher and put on my street clothes - which were now dry-cleaned... thanks orderlies! - and then doubled over with some vicious stomach cramps. 

The hospital, sensing I was a tad uncomfortable, tried to sell me the antidote to dinner. I decided not to pay as I figured the diarrhea would help me lose weight.

Somewhere squeezing the Charmin,

Andrew Joseph

Today's title is by Robert Palmer, the best dressed man in rock and roll: he's SIMPLY IRRESISTIBLE! (which is the title of another song of his).
PS - obviously me in the photo dressed up as a doctor. The woman in the nurse's uniform is indeed a nurse who works at the hospital mentioned above. She and the rest of the smiling happy people are part of the Ohtawara International Friendship Association - and excluding the gent on my right, I was fortunate to teach them all English once a week for three years. I didn't think they had learned anything in all that time... but at my good-bye party they were all competent enough to create their own good-bye speeches. It was beautiful. I'm a teacher!  The guy on my right? He's a teacher at Kaneda Kita Chu Gakko and along with being shy, he was a very intelligent, caring and all-around nice fellow. More on him later.

Video Killed The Radio Star

Since I 'work' as an Assistant English Teacher (AET) in Japan, I am usually afforded large amounts of free time to take care of pressing personal matters like: "What video should I rent?" or "How many videos should I rent?" or "Which video should I watch first?" I would watch television if there was something half-decent on, but that is an increasingly rare moment.

For those of us foreigners with a bilingual television (Bilingual televisions have three settings: one that can pick up just the Japanese signal; one that can pick up an English signal if available from the Japanese networks; and one that picks up both the Japanese and English signals at the same time and in stereo, which I am unsure why anyone would need), we are given the opportunity to watch classic American television programs or translated news broadcasts for the increasingly inert, or terrible movies that you would never have watched in the movie theatre but desperation caused you to rent just last week. For further clarification, it's mostly movies available on Peachtree TV (formerly Ted Turner's TBS). Bleagh.

I often (offen) wonder if Japanese people ever watch these Yankee shows and believe America to mirror the program. Do the natives know that Little House On The Prairie is supposed to have taken place in the past and is not representative of the current mid-West?

So. Lesson #1 is that Little House On The Prairie took place in America sometime before the Japanese invented the White Car - maybe during the 1950s.

You think I'm joking, right? Well, when I say I'm from Canada, I am always asked back if I know Anne? Anne, who? Oh, Anne of Green flippin' Gables. Do the Japanese think Newfoundland looks like it does in the TV movies. If they do, they are sadly mistaken... Hmm, come to think of it, that was a poor example ... Newfoundland does still look like it did back in the 19th century.

Can you imagine the image conjured up of of the U.S. if the Japanese were exposed to All In The Family and its racist undertones. "See American's hate koko-jin's (Blacks), too!". Or how about M.A.S.H.: "See, we're not the only ones who hate the Koreans!"

In deference to AITF, I realize it poked fun at the stupidity of racism. And M.A.S.H did the same, while taking the monkey out of the glory of war. Both of these shows exhibited classic social commentary on our lifestyles that made a person think through laughter.

But, and there's the big but... the Japanese do NOT have any true television sitcoms, and thus have never been able to laugh at their own misgivings. There are samurai dramas, cooking shows, cooking shows, variety shows and cooking shows.

Perhaps if these classic American programs were shown here the social commentary would be lost.

Ah... but people in glass houses should not throw stones.

In good old America, land of the free if you have the money (and the U.K. and Canada, too!), cartoons are being altered so as to not mentally scar the children. Bugs Bunny and even Disney cartons are routinely pruned of material currently deemed to be offensive before being aired on television.
Bugs Bunny Nips The Nips.
Coal Black And De Sebben Dwarfs.
Donald Duck in Der Fuehrer's Face.
The Smurfs, Care Bears. Ugh.... okay, the only offensive thing about those later two cartoons is that they suck, and the previous three were WWII or previous, back when being racist must have been cool or something - how else to explain this Parker Brother's board game:

As well, some North Americans probably watched AITF and cheered on Archie Bunker.

Why are there no Japanese comedy sitcoms? Why are there so many cowboy serials (Japanese samurai dramas)... the U.S. grew out of that when Gunsmoke died in 1975.

Let's see - how to bring television in Japan into the present... the police drama in Japan... you never hear much about Japan's police like you do in North America... so maybe it's not a hot topic.
The Fujiwara (Brady) Bunch - naw... no one has hair of gold like their mama-san.
Hospital drama... maybe this one would work. Who wouldn't like watching a show about someone sick and then getting a diagnosis that entailed them getting some strange purple powder cure-all? Naw... too obvious, like an episode of House.
(My three visits to the hospital all involved the same purple powder cure, despite it varying from: gastroentroitis; a scratched cornea; and a bad back. This is not a joke).

Actually, I think the television landscape is determined by the work environment. In Japan, the workers do crazy hours, come home, eat and pretty much pass out asleep before getting up to do it again. Who has time to watch some other person's stupid life when they don't have one themselves?  

There have been numerous reports of Japanese workers working themselves to death. As well, in Japan, it's considered bad form for the lowly worker to leave the workplace before his superior does. I did all the time - but then I'm just a stupid gaijin (foreigner), so I had a built-in excuse. Leaving early gave me more free time to watch television... too bad there was nothing on the six national networks or seven regional affiliates out of Tokyo. This was before satellite television.

There was one show I enjoyed, however... the Shimura Ken variety show.
Click HERE to find out a bit about Ken, and click HERE to see a few examples of his physical comedy that is still understandable without knowing Japanese. And yes... I wrote this before seeing what was written on the video site.

On top of my viewing of this weekly show (Wednesday night at 8PM), Matthew, Ashley and I enjoyed the numerous video tapes regularly sent to us by our families. Despite their kindness, I still managed to find the free time to rented over 500 movies in three years. I had a lot of free time.

Somewhere still watching television,
Andrew Joseph
Today's title brought to you by the Buggles, who also happened to have the very first video played on MTV on August 1, 1981. Okay.. HERE it is.

Dr. Feelgood

Since I’ve been ill in real life (IE 2009) with a kidney stone, I thought I’d regale you with the time I had to go to a Japanese hospital.

I caught some sort of intestinal infection that had me going to the bathroom far too often than even I had become famous for. Back then (or back there, if you prefer), I considered myself to be constipated if I only went to the bathroom once or twice a day.

I know, there had to have been something wrong with me if I considered five times a day to be pretty normal – and let’s face it, there was nothing pretty about it. I suppose I could narrow it down to my ingesting of 2 liters of Coke a day – my preferred poison of choice. As well, the only foods I knew how to cook were chilli con carne, spaghetti and lasagne. I see the splatter pattern now.

Back in 1990, however, I knew I was sick. I’ll spare you my gory details and will instead attempt to describe how I got to go to the Ohtawara Hospital.

From Monday through Thursday, I was working at a junior high school and suffering. On Friday I visited the Ohtawara Board of Education (OBOE) offices. Not looking my usual chipper self, both Kanemaru-san and Hanazaki-san noticed my complexion to be quite ashen, and came within a few feet of my desk to query me about it.

I explained in English that... well, I had to go to the bathroom a lot. I was trying to be polite. Hanazaki-san didn’t say anything... and he’s the one with the fairly understandable English. So, I pulled out my English/Japanese dictionary. Kanemaru-san pulled out his Japanese/English dictionary and off we went.

Would you believe that my dictionary didn’t have the translation for ‘the squirts’... sorry if I’ve lost you, but it is what it is. Now unable to use words, I resorted to pantomime.

I grabbed my then slender stomach and doubled over and made farty noises. Everyone laughed. Now I appreciate a laugh, but only when I’m trying to be funny. I held up a finger a la ‘just a moment, please’ (chotto matte, kudasai) and ran to the bathroom and came back with a roll of toilet paper.

Believe it or not – they understood I was sick. Of course it may be because I actually used the facilities then and had accidentally left the bathroom door open – but they got my drift.

Hanazaki-san, Kanemaru-san and my bespectacled driver whose name I never learned drove me to the Ohtawara hospital.

Even 19 years ago, it looked 19 years behind what we had in Canada, what with the cramped halls, patients in stretchers in the halls and cracked floors and walls. No biggie. But what struck me as odd was my doctor.

He stepped out of an office into the waiting room where I sat—excluding my posse, all of the other Japanese visitors sat very far away form me, probably not interested in catching whatever international disease I had. I appreciated their concern, as I too did not want to catch something national from them.

Anyhow, the 30-ish doctor in the typical white lab coat and black glasses had a lit cigarette dangling between his lips that jumped rhythmically as he talked to Hanazaki-san. In fact, pretty much everyone who worked at the hospital was smoking—like it was part of the job description. Stranger still is that in my three years there, I never saw or heard a Japanese person with a smoker's cough/hack - I wonder if the amount of green tea ingested had some kind of preventative medicine for cancer?

The doctor stuck his face right in front of mine, pressed a tongue depressor into my mouth, exhaled some smoke at me and asked in the best English-accent I had ever heard outside of Monty Python what was wrong with me.

After Kanemaru-san helped me pick my jaw up off the cracked and dirty marble floor, I quickly explained my issue. The doctor nodded, put two fingers into his white coat pocket and pulled out five wax packages and told me to take one a day, coughed, said sayanora and walked away. Hanazaki-san ran after him.

I kid you not... these wax cachets were about two inches wide by one inch high and thinner than a sugar packet at a gas and gulp diner. Inside the packet was a very fine purple coloured powder. So... do I mix it with my coke (I didn’t drink coffee then), ocha (green tea), heat it up on a spoon and inject the liquid or snort it?

Apparently that’s what Hanazaki-san went to find out for me, telling me I need merely tip the grainy contents into my mouth and swallow it quickly before it dissolved my tongue. That’s what he said. He might have meant “dissolve on your tongue”, but Hanazaki-san was quite insistent I follow his directions.

With nothing to lose but poop, I emptied the contents into my mouth, tasted it and then swallowed. It was a big mistake to have tasted it, because if you can imagine grape flavoured dirt, then you are half-way to the map that will tell you where to find the pit that some now-extinct creature must have barfed atop this medicine. Bleagh! If I ever needed a reason to never get ill again, that magical medicine in the doctor’s pocket that he had handy for me was it. Prescription? Who needs that? Labels on the packaging? That’s for whiners.

After two days, I felt like my regular old self again. On the Thursday of the next week, I was picked up at my school by Hanazaki-san at lunch time and driven back to the hospital for what I figured was a follow-up.

Nope. I had to pay my hospital bill of 1400 yen... which is about $14 US.

Somewhere flush with excitement,
Andrew Joseph
PS – sorry no pictures, but I’m sure you understand.