Sunday, November 07, 2010

The Korean Physical

Before being issued a work visa, foreigners must present a criminal background check, because Koreans don't want pedophiles teaching English to their children. When foreigners arrive in Korea, before being issued a certificate of alien registration, they must present themselves at a local hospital for a thorough physical examination, because Koreans don't want sick people getting in on their country's state health coverage.
At Halla Hospital's diagnostic clinic, all the other patients were Korean. I was the only foreigner, which only worsened the shakiness I always get from hospitals. The nurse, a stern-looking woman with box-shaped hair, jabbed a needle in my vein and filled vial after vial with blood. She asked if I had had anything to eat or drink that morning.
“Just coffee,” I said.
She glared at me as if I had slapped her.
“And a pastry,” I added.
“What?”
“A bun.”
“You're not supposed to eat before the test.”
Great. Now I would test positive for Hepatitis B, AIDS, and cocaine. The Korean authorities would deport me from Jeju Island.
After taking about a liter of my blood, the nurse pulled out the needle. She pressed an alcohol-scented swab to the puncture wound and told me to hold it there for five minutes. I expected her to tape on gauze or at least give me a Band-aid, but all I got to stop the bleeding was the wet swab.
“Fill it up,” she said, handing me a small plastic cup decorated with cute Asian cartoon characters.
At the urinal, I held the cup with my right hand. My left bicep flexed the swab in place, and I couldn't lower the left hand low enough to be of any use. I needed a third hand. A minute had passed since the nurse gave me the swab; I figured the blood had enough time to coagulate, so I pulled the swab away. Instantly, a bead of blood formed. I pressed the swab back in place. She wasn't kidding about the five minutes. How would I would pee in the cup using only one hand? It seemed impossible. I would have to wait the whole five minutes. Either that or ask someone to lend a hand.
Suddenly the door swung open and a gruff-looking Korean man swaggered in, one flexed bulging arm pinning a swab in place. The thick fingers at the end of his other arm held a cartoon-character-covered cup. Amazingly, he managed to fill the cup without use of the swab-holding arm at all. With his free hand, he unzipped his fly, rested his member on the lip of the cup, and started to pee, slowly pulling the cup away while keeping his aim true, like an expert busboy pouring a pitcher of water. I was impressed, but told myself not to feel jealous. He was Korean, so he probably had a lifetime of experience.
The door swung open, and a Korean boy, about 8 or 9 years old, came skipping into the bathroom, pressing a swab to his arm and grinning at the cartoon characters on his cup. The man at the urinal shouted brusquely to the boy in rapid Korean. I think he said, “Watch out—there's a foreigner lurking at the urinals!”

1 Comments:

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5:16 PM  

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