JC June 7th

The Chico class met at 8:20AM in the lobby to be taken to a Dumpling making class. Given the change to the itinerary from our original plan of lectures in the morning and factories tours in the afternoon – I asked how this class would relate to the Chinese economy and business. Since it did not appear specific to either of these areas, I requested time to work on my journal and additional reading for the class. I spent approximately four hours logging in my experiences and journaling the trip over the past three days.

I found some peace in the bottom floor lobby for about and hour, until two men sat across from me and began smoking cigarettes. I moved my work to the main guest lobby at the front entrance and continued on my work for another forty-five minutes. Realizing my computer battery was almost out – and our guest room should be clean, I moved back to my room to continue my work.

At 10:30AM I became hungry and thought I would give the main cafeteria a try. I reveled in the sheer number of students who attended the university as the flocks walked past me on my way to the food court. No luck. It wasn’t opened yet – so I made my way across the street to the student center. Inside I found shelves of cookies, wafers, crackers, candies, bread, and other delights I couldn’t begin to understand. Even those things that looked familiar left me wondering if they would taste similar to my memories of familiar food. I opted for a ramen soup bowl. I wasn’t able to make out the flavor – it was in Chinese, no American writing here. But it looked good, and I was famished. Now for some chop sticks. It was at these moments that I felt the most silly and ignorant. Here I was, a typical American who knew no English (even though there were only 300 million American’s and 1.5 billion Chinese) and I was playing charades to try and ask for what I needed. As I put my fingers to my mouth, trying to mimic chopsticks, one of the store clerks motioned at my soup bowl, indicating that they were already inside. Now mind me, the bowl was only 5 or 6 inches tall. I couldn’t imagine how chopsticks could fit in there. Oh, well. Guess I’ll have to assume something is in the ramen bowl to let me eat it. As I rushed out the door, I smiled. Everyone here was friendly and kind, but mostly – patient.

When I got back to the room, I opened the package and saw that there were the following packages: dried vegetables, a seasoning packet, and a packet of red paste – which wound up being a hot curry flavoring. This was the kicker – inside was a fork folded in half. You pulled the fork upward, released it, and locked it back into place were a plastic hole was fitted with a tiny plastic knob. Who would have thought. Here I was in China, eating the Chinese version of top ramen noodles (the best I had ever had) with a fork that was already in it, folded in half!

One of my memories of the room was its notoriously large canteen and cork that was filled every morning as part of room service (and stayed hot all day) for those times when you wanted tea – or in my case – top ramen.

After plucking away some more, my roommate Ann came back and explained to me all she had learned about Chinese dumpling making. Basically, wonton dough was formed – rolled in the hand, flattened, and stuffed with a variety of ground up meats and garnishings. What was interesting, she said, was the way in which dumplings were formed. If one chose, the dumpling could be double wrapped with goodies in each layer, and could be folded in a variety of fashions to add a decorative effect to the dumpling. She said they were good, and I believed her. But there was something in me that wouldn’t have given up my cup of noodles, or experience buying them, that day.

At 2PM, the Chico group once again gathered in the lobby for a bus ride to Tongji Hospital. The drive to the hospital was beautiful. It took us about a half hour to forty minutes to make our way around a part of east lake, the second largest city lake in China – as David relayed it to me. As we drove, I saw street vendors selling fresh melons and fruit, pagodas that held wonders I could only imagine, and a resort and restaurant right next to the lake. Several Chinese sat barefoot next to the lake with long fishing poles that looked like pole vaults. The sheer length of the fishing rods was amazing, and I wondered how they packed them, then realized that they must have folded or detached somehow. Several young men were wading and swimming in the lake, taking advantage of the early summer humidity and tranquil water.

The sky was the bluest I had seen since arriving. While it was still smoggy and brackish looking, I could now see what the Chinese who live in Wuhan must see in their city. I had come into Wuhan disappointed at the sticky, humid, filthy air and streets, and was now enjoying the beauty of the lake, the bluer sky, and the tranquility of the people and beautiful trees and landscaped grounds around me. We crossed several small bridges, and across one of them was a lotus pond – filled to the brim with both water, beautiful large leafy green plants floating on top of the water, all of them crowding the small pond. Truly, the ride was a wonder and it was at this moment that I could sincerely appreciate what was beautiful in Wuhan and why the people had chosen this as their home.

We began to make our way into the city and crossed a large bridge, which I was told was one of the crossings over the Yangtze River. David explained that after looking over some maps, the river wound its way through the city at several locations, which was why it was necessary to cross at one of the three or four bridges that were provided by the city. This was part of the reason the drive took some time to accomplish our mission of getting to the hospital.

When we arrived at the hospital, we were greeted with a magnificent concrete and steel building with floors and floors of space for departments, and specialty care for the cities general hospital. Tongji Hospital was part of the university, and many students – trained by Huazhong University interned there to obtain various medical degrees. The sheer number of people in the main lobby told me that medical care was prized, and that the hospital had to be bulging at the seems from the surge of Chinese people who visit their facilities daily.

We waited briefly in the lobby while one of the hospital’s hosts explained the main lobby area and registration. The noise in the main hall was so loud, that I caught little of what she said. The noise was harsh and sounded like a constant echo bouncing from wall to wall. A security guard stopped traffic to let the Chico group board an elevator to a higher floor. It was here that we unloaded and were directed down the hall to speak with one of the hospital’s doctors and department directors about the role of the hospital in traditional medicine. The woman in the hall was from international relations but I wasn’t able to ascertain if she was a part of the hospital. She explained that 2.08 million patients were seen a year by Tongji hospital. When patients wanted to see a doctor, 80-90% were walk-ins and were given a number as they were served on a first come first served basis – this was foreign to the American appointment system. Tongji was one of 50 area hospitals that served Wuhan. Tongji was a popular hospital given its offerings and specialty doctor’s, she explained. It was one of the larger hospitals.

As usual, the doctor and other hospital staff were patient with our lack of in depth understanding of the Chinese medical system. It appeared that the general hospital branched into many areas of medicine – but had specialty areas it was know for; which were obstetrics and gynecology. The pediatric ward was separate from other floors. It appeared that the hospital was similar in nature to that of a general hospital in a big city. Doctors employed there were full-time and were not allowed to hold outside employment as a doctor. I asked about how and if the hospital plans for surge capacity in the case of a natural disaster such as a fire or pandemic flu. The doctor explained that they did have planning in place, and that a number of facilities and doctors would be used to fulfill this need.

We were escorted to several departments; including one where we viewed patients who were being massaged and checked by both interns and staff who were serving in a physical therapy capacity. The doctor explained some of the patients’ ailments. Two young boys had been severely affected by traffic accidents. One boy had been in the hospital for over three years. He had suffered from both physical injuries and a brain injury. The doctor told us that this patient had made great progress and was doing much better. The patient next to him had also been in a traffic accident and was working on some physical therapy for a lumbar injury. Somehow, I felt strange in this setting. It seemed as though I was intruding on what should be a private setting for patients to heal. The doctor appeared completing unaware of the uneasiness some of us felt, staring at patients who had suffered a variety of injuries and illnesses.

We moved on to another room which specialized in acupuncture. A young boy on a hospital bed had suffered a traffic accident several months ago and was receiving ongoing treatment for incontinence due to a lower abdominal injury. The doctor proudly stated that this patient had also made great progress. We all felt a bit awkward again watching a patient. The acupuncturist began unwrapping small pins and placing them in the young mans abdomen and ankles. This was a bit strange because we once again felt intrusive to the privacy of this young man, but interested in the practice of acupuncture. After the needles were strategically placed, they were connected to wiring which provided an electrical pulse to help heal the young man’s muscles.

Next door, a group of ladies and men were performing various massage techniques on patients who suffered anything from backaches to pulled muscles, etc. We all agreed that the massages looked wonderful and how we could all go for one after several days of foreign heat, air, and exercise. We departed and thanked the doctor for his time.

Lastly, the doctor led us to a vault where two rooms separated the pharmaceutical operations of the hospital. In the left room, hundreds – perhaps thousands, of small drawers lined all four walls. Inside, various herbs, teas, tree and flower seeds, and other homeopathic remedies resided. We also witnessed a jar of small, dead scorpions that were poured into a large tin bowl that held each of the patients’ designated prescriptions. Small weights with counter measures were used to place the proper amount of a prescription into the large round tin. Usually, several herbs were used to fill a prescription. We were told that the scorpions were to be boiled by the patient and that the patient would drink the hot water and scorpion juice from this boiling. Being one of the few critters on earth that give me the creeps, I shivered. I was glad I wasn’t in need of a prescription of scorpions.

The room to the right included more western style pain medications and pills versus the traditional medicine that is used by the Chinese. These pharmaceutical drugs were likely more potent and direct than their friends next door. We had to chuckle at what all of our insurance companies in the U.S. would think about paying for the traditional Chinese medications. Somehow, I couldn’t see mine paying for scorpions. Oh, well. There’s cultural differences for you.

We boarded the elevator again and went down a few floors to hematology. It was here that we were instructed to be especially quiet. Many of these patients were facing blood diseases; one of the common ones being leukemia. The doctor here seemed especially kind and knowledgeable about both medical practices in China and the study of medicine in Canada. I was later told by one of our Chico students that they asked one of the doctors about the privacy of the patients in the hospital. I knew that she also had to feel like an invader looking in on patients. He explained that there was no expectation of privacy here and we were all left to breathe a sigh of relief that in the United States a level of privacy does exist for patients. I do know that some patients must have valued privacy, as we so do. I was told by a fellow student that one woman closed her window in hematology and I couldn’t help but feel ashamed we had encroached on her right to privacy.

Next stop. The administrative building for the hospital. We actually left the general hospital and made our way around several other buildings that were a part of the hospital’s grounds. Here, we were able to view a scaled down model of what Tongji Hospital hoped to accomplish in five years. Two huge new buildings that would accommodate at least 80 new beds. I wondered if there was something lost in the translation because the new building looked like it should at least house another 800 beds, perhaps a few thousand. The beds would serve primarily for the purpose of people who were waiting to see a doctor. Apparently, the overfill is so impacted, that patients will wait for days to see a doctor. Once again, I could only appreciate the level of service I had in the states. It was here that our tour ended and we thanked the woman from international relations for her time taking us to each of the different departments of the hospital.

We made our way back to the bus and waited for several minutes for our driver. While we were waiting, we saw a man who was missing nearly a third of his head. I couldn’t imagine how he could be walking, let alone living, and thought about how lucky we all were to have little worries compared with most of the rest of the world.

We boarded the bus and made the long trek back during 5:00PM rush hour. We had an opportunity to again see the beauty of the east lake. About half the class unloaded the bus at a local restaurant to have dinner with Tao of Huazhong University. The rest of us headed back to the hotel – many tired from a long day.

That night, I went to bed early.