The world is in a frenzy about H1N1, and every cough and handshake seems like a biohazard. Actually being one of the walking biohazards ha been quite an eye opener. I've been waiting a few days to share this story about my experiences as an ill person in Korea. Now that the tests results are in, I can disclose it to you.
Friday and Saturday was YonKo Jun. As expected, there was lots of screaming and walking and jumping and dancing involved. I wore myself out. Though there was much to do Saturday night, I left early after finishing the "train game" (i.e.--begging for food, see here). I probably went to bed by 11. When I woke up the next morning, I ached all over. I could barely walk without holding the wall. Some would say I had a gangsta swagga. But all in all, I felt horrible. My voice was fading, my feet were killing me. I took it all as aftershock from the weekend. I stayed home and played hookie from church (I've been church shopping for a while now). Instead I worked on the computer and watched Twilight and Ghost Rider with Korean subtitles on TV with my friends in their apartment.
The next day, I managed to get myself up and go to school. We watched a Korean movie, called A Single Spark, about human rights in Korea from the 1960's to to 1996. As much as I love Asian film, I couldn't find much interest in this one. I immediately left class, ate lunch, and hit the couches in first floor New Millennium Hall. The day dragged on, and I dragged myself back to the apartments where I ate chicken nuggets from the restaurant downstairs boasting advertisements featuring DaeSung from Big Bang.
The next day, I stayed home. Things got worse, and I just stayed in bed the entire day. When my suitemates got back, an intervention went down. They expressed how concerned they were (I'm still not too sure if it was for them or for me, both are understandable) and that I should go to the hospital. [On a side note: In Korea, people don't go to a doctor's office, they go to the nearest clinic or hospital. So when I say hospital, it's not like I was dying]. They call the RD who then calls the program director and they come to talk to me about going that night. I put up an argument against it using the excuse that I don't have the money (legit) and that I'd get over it anyhow.
I lost. Next thing I know, I'm waiting in a mask for a cab to come pick me up and whisk me away to the ER (since it was after hours, maybe about 8 or 9pm). David walks by the lounge and the first question he asks is, "It's not confirmed or anything, is it?" The RD calls my friend Emma to go wait for me there with the program director. Eight bucks later (8,000 won), I'm in the ER explaining my symptoms to the International intern. He had a funny way of talking, as if he was worried about having to talk to me or that maybe in the next 2 minutes he had some horrible news to share. Again, both are likely.
So they bring me to their makeshift H1N1 ward. It's right outside of the ER through the double doors right next to the EMS lane. A few rows of chairs faced some fold out tables with laptops and usual doctor's supplies like tongue depressors and glove boxes. There were probably more hand sanitizer dispensers than there were people in the ward. Everyone had to put on a mask (so far I was rolling three people deep: Emma, the RD, and Suzanne, the CIEE program director). I got my temp checked, my medical background reviewed, and my American insurance card handed over. After all the paperwork was done, and Suzanne paid for the registration fee, the doctor told us all the tests he wanted me to get done. "It would cost about 1,000,000 won." Suzanne haggled them into just doing the 500,000 won H1N1 swab.
At this point, my friend Jessica had heard that I was in the hospital and ran over to check in. We were still waiting on the meds to come out and Suzanne to again come back from paying the rest of the cost (all of which insurance will cover, but you have to pay up front in Korea). Meanwhile, the three of us joke around in the waiting area. There weren't many other people in the waiting area. Most people come during the day to avoid extra fees. But there was a girl sitting up on one of the two beds behind a screen in the corner and a little boy in a Spiderman jacket with his father waiting in the row behind us.
The doctor comes out with some baggies with pills in them. I look at the labels written in Korean. The first one I couldn't make out (I've since stared at the letters long enough to realize that it says "allegra") and the second one was named in English: codeine. I didn't realize what it was at the time, but everyone had the same reaction: "good stuff."
On the way back, my friends treat me to some soup from Kimbap Chungook ("Kimbap Heaven"), but we fondly call it Kimbap Forever Palace (copyright Jessica). I then felt the awkwardness of wearing pajamas in public in Korea. Unlike in the US, people never leave the house indecent. Ever. So I had to suck it up and play the role of the silly American who leaves the house in inappropriate clothing.
Since then, I stayed home alone working or watching TV. Though I hear codeine is supposed to knock you out, I only get about 3 hours of sleep per night, plus a few naps during the day. My room mate is amazed that I'm always awake when she goes to sleep and awake when she gets up. I visit my friends downstairs in the evenings, but even they seemed to have to pretend not to be scared. When I walked over to the 7Eleven, I would get stares (even more than just being white in Korea) because of the mask, my badge of illness. It's a thing that makes people go quiet when the elevator doors open and they see a masked person on the other side. Getting that kind of treatment all of a sudden isn't that heartening, especially when trying to recover.
My family had a panic because of things posted on my Facebook. I had to call them and stretch the truth a bit. They knew I was sick, but I just threw in that I already knew it wasn't swine flu and that everyone was just joking, it wasn't that serious. Things like that. Meanwhile, I was holding my breath hoping that I was right.
The results came back today. Suzanne called me on my newly activated phone (yay! no more getting lost in Seoul!) and told me she talked to the intern. The results came back negative. Both of us were relieved. No one had to be quarantined. (I'm not kidding. That's what would happen to all of us in the apartments). Tomorrow I plan on going back to school, but I'm still not sure if I'll be taking the mask. Luckily, tomorrow is movie day and Korean class at the end. But it's straight home and no night life so I can rest to make sure I save energy for the Asia Song Festival on Saturday. Lets hope I'm all better by then (and that it's not cancelled due to swine flu).
