I didn't feel great, but I DID have a very special Fourth of July on the beach in Enoshima,

August 12--
Maybe this misconception is mine alone, but when I imagined needing medical attention here in Japan, I imagined I'd be offered a smorgasbord of so-called "Eastern" methods and remedies.  I thought I'd be told, "Burn this," "Drink this," "Adopt this diet," "Apply this," "Recite this," "Inhale this," "Poke this needle here," or "Do this type of stretch."  I imagined a world of alternative cure-alls--tinctures and ancient herbs, neti pots and detoxification, yoga and deep breathing.
Never in a million years did I imagine the style of "Western" medicine I'd encounter.  People live longer here in Japan. With no disrespect to the doctors of this nation, I suspect this truth has more to do with genetics, diet, and overall lifestyle than anything to do with modern medicine.
I have personally been ill almost consistently since my arrival.  At first it was digestive issues.  Then I developed what appeared to be an infection on my face.  I also wasn't sleeping very well.  I tried to tough it out but after two months of intense pain, I asked my friend to help me find an English-speaking doctor.  Believing my condition warranted immediate attention and that going to a doctor she knew and trusted would be a better choice than seeking out an unknown based merely on language, she took me instead to a friend's family doctor in my neighborhood and accompanied me to translate.  She described to this kind-looking man my symptoms at which point he gave a knowing nod and ordered a series of blood tests.  "Her problem," he said resolutely after noticing a tattoo on my arm, "is Hepatitis C."  Hmm.  This didn't sit well with me.  I have a years old tattoo and therefore I suddenly have a blood-born and possibly fatal illness?  Highly unlikely, Doc, but I'll play along. I figured if there WAS something wrong with my blood--due to change in diet or hormonal imbalance or whathaveyou--that it too would show up in these tests.  Regarding the infection on my face, the doctor told my friend, "She's just stressed because she's a single woman who came so far from her home."  Hmm.  Again, not exactly the sound diagnosis for which I was hoping, BUT I walked next door to have my prescriptions filled.  All of the pills and information bore only Japanese labelling and instructions, so I was looking through them during the car ride home so I could ask my friend any questions.  Okay.  This one is for my stomach and I take it three times a day.  Okay, and this one? Oh, okay, also for my stomach and I take it three times a day.  ...But what's this one???  I held up a little packet of pills to my companion.  "I don't know.  Maybe it's to help you sleep?"  The dosage is three times a day... Why would I take a sleeping pill at breakfast?  She examined the pharmacy documents more closely.  "Oh!  It's an antidepressant."  WHAT??? I met this doctor for the first time and was not even able to talk to him much less at any length and without any discussion about my mental well-health, he decides I'm stressed and depressed and need medication??  Not cool.  I felt I'd time travelled to the 1950's or something--where women were patted on the hand and issued tranquilizers for every malady and complaint and having a tattoo was considered dangerous and dirty.  ...I took the medications--afraid NOT to in my poor condition--but I descended into an even sicker state!  For 3 days I was completely unable to eat or even really function!  I slept all night wrapped in a blanket on the floor of my toilet room because my nausea was so intense.
Clearly this isn't working out.  Let's try again.
The results of my blood tests showed that everything seemed to be just fine with my blood--good liver function, balanced nutrition, AND...no Hepatitis. ;)  I asked my friend to take me to an English-speaking doctor for further evaluation of my stomach ailments.  She knew a doctor near her house who specialized in digestive issues.  Okay.  A specialist would be good...even if he DOESN'T speak English.  So we paid him a visit.  He was another kindly old gentleman.  He looked me in the eyes and seemed to want to come to the root of my problem.  He poked on me a lot and asked my friend a lot of questions, only to agree that the now worsening infection on my face was not an infection but generated from stress and that all my poor little tummy issues were caused by a virus.  A virus that I've had for nearly TWO MONTHS?  That sounds a smidge unlikely, but we'll see.  I again abided by doctor's orders to the tune of no improvement.  I was getting very concerned.
I should point out, by the way, that I wasn't even feeling particularly stressed!  I'm sure there was stress playing out in my body regarding the uprooting and replanting of my life and self, but by and large and far and away...I was really HAPPY!  I looooooooooooved (and still love) Japan and my house and my job and my new friends and the possibility of new experiences each and every day and the synchronistic way in which all things seemed to fall into place.  I wasn't worried or sad or overwhelmed.   ...I just had chronic stomach pain, poor digestion, irregular sleep patterns, and a rapidly spreading collection of swollen blemishes on every quadrant of my face.  I wanted someone to listen to me.  I wanted someone to help me.

Even feeling poorly, I love and adore my job and my students!!  (This is Kian.  She's brilliant.)

At the end of May, a member from one of our churches located an international clinic near my train line.  I went to this office on my own and met a very sweet doctor who spoke a little bit of English and could understand me pretty well when I spoke very slowly.  She looked sad when I told her how badly I felt about myself because of the marks on my face, but when I said I thought it was an infection, she said, "We'll worry about that after we get your stomach taken care of.  That's more important right now."  I suppose I can't argue with that.  They say the third times a charm, and in my case, this ended up being true.  This doctor gave me natural medicines and regimens and within a few days, I was eating again!  I felt great!!
I put off worrying about my face for over a month--even though the condition was DEFINITELY worsening, and even though my self-esteem was taking a major hit.  When a pink splotch appeared on my shoulder, though, I started to get very nervous.  This patch spread quickly and felt very, very hot to the touch.  I found an English-speaking dermatologist online and took a nearly 2 hour train ride to her clinic.  She was really cool and easy to talk to.  I told her I thought I had an infection.  ...She lectured me for 5 full minutes about how I need to eat meat and how my complexion problems were a result of my not getting enough protein in my diet. Wait a second.  ...What??  I've been virtually meatless for 17 years and COMPLETELY vegetarian for over FOUR years with absolutely no problem, but suddenly all of my issues stem from the need for meat in my diet?!  ...Nevermind that a Japanese doctor tested my blood with *stellar* results only a few weeks ago!  She wouldn't hear it.  I'd need to undergo a battery of tests to determine my hormone levels and any food allergies I might have and also, she was certain, how desperately I needed protein.  Okay.  This would be good information to have, actually.  ...And at least she's being proactive in treating me instead of shrugging it all off as "stress."  So, even though her clinic did not accept my insurance and the tests and treatments she was ordering would be very expensive, I agreed to comply.   ...Then she looked at the pink splotch on my shoulder...and she FREAKED out!!  "This is very serious!!  Why haven't you seen a doctor before now??" she screeched.  "Well...as I explained...I actually saw THREE doctors before now, and..."  "We need to get you on an IV right away!  Do you realize that if you'd waited even another week to be treated for this infection, you would be HOSPITALIZED?"  ::gulp::
I subjected to the IV and a couple other "necessary" procedures and purchased medicine directly from reception.  (The doctor wouldn't write a prescription for me to take to a pharmacy where I could use my insurance.  Hmm.  That's inconvenient.  But I was scared, so I complied fully.)  I and my bandaged shoulder made the two hour train ride home, where I checked my email and received a message from this clinic that essentially said, "Miss White, we've researched your condition more thoroughly and have discovered it is even more serious than we'd previously thought.  You need to visit any clinic for the next 7 days and receive an IV."  Okay.  I'm filing this under "HORRIBLE News."  What the heck am I gonna do?  I don't have time or money for such treatment...and what do I even have??  (The term she provided in the e-mail was "plegmone," which I couldn't find anywhere!  But I did find "phlegmon(e)" which led me to THIS video...which led me to nearly have a heart attack.)  Is this what will happen to my FACE??????
I did a little cryin' and a little prayin' and a little bit of "I wanna go hooooome"-in' and then I sent out a few dozen e-mails to friends, family, and supporters, asking for their prayers....which is when it hit me!  If I were in the States and I got a serious diagnosis that I didn't really understand, I'd want a second opinion!  So that's what I set about trying to find.  I mapped the train route to a clinic I'd wanted to visit in the first place, but was closed during the time I had available.  This time, I decided to MAKE time!  I skipped language school the next morning to head to Kyodo.  This was the best decision I could have made.  My new doctor, who received some of his training from Harvard, promises on his website to explain everything as clearly as possible and not to move forward with treatment with which the patient is not entirely comfortable.  So during my introductory visit, I regaled him with the lengthy story shared here.  He shook his head and looked down.  Oh no.  I've said something wrong.  I've offended him by questioning the expertise of his colleagues.  Or maybe he AGREES with these other doctors!  Oh no...  "I am so sorry you've experienced such inexcusable treatment," he said, sincerely.  "Three months is a long time to feel badly and to be worried and there is no reason that you should have been talked to or treated the way you have, so I just first want to apologize.  This must have been very difficult for you."  ...I nearly cried!  "Thank you.  Yes.  Yes, it has been very tough."  The new doctor re-examined the infection on my face and shoulder.  "How did this other doctor arrive at her diagnosis?" he asked.  I thought about this and realized... She hadn't even TOUCHED it!  She had me terrified that I had this deadly infection, and she hadn't run ANY tests or done any type of examination aside from a quick naked eye inspection.  "I think it's best to find out what we're treating before we engage in anything too dramatic, don't you?"  Uh huh! "So let's run some tests and keep close watch on your symptoms and figure out where we want to go from there."  He took some blood and wrote me some prescriptions, apologizing that I'd already paid full price for medicine I didn't need from the other clinic.
Bit by bit, the infection has been healing.  I've never so perfectly adhered to doctor's orders in my LIFE!  I feel very, very lucky that I found this doctor when I did!
About a week into treatment, I was at the beach with my good friend Hugh.  We were having (Don't laugh.) an existential experience in the waves at night--feeling the smallness and hugeness and history and impermanence of "NOW."  Suddenly during our shared philosophical mind-knitting, I turned to him and said, "I don't want to alarm you, but my legs are really burning...like...I've been bitten or stung by something..."  He said he felt that too, and since we couldn't see anything in the blackness of the water in the dark, we decided to just make a run for it and bolted to the shore.  We examined our wounds by the light of my iPhone.  Mine covered far more surface area--the tentacles of some kind of jellyfish apparently having wrapped around both of my legs.  I tried to behave as though nothing was wrong, but within minutes I was dizzy and falling over.  Then I was stricken by panic, so we left the beach immediately.  ...THEN I became very nauseated and had to jump off the train at some random station to be sick.  I felt blessed to make it home that night.
Hugh's sting marks were gone within a day, but mine continued to worsen, growing bigger and redder and hotter and itching quite a bit.  I even missed another day of school because of it!
When I visited my doctor for my follow-up visit last week, I showed him the marks.  He said, "It appears you've had a very bad reaction to the venom!  I believe it would have been much, much worse for you if you had not been on the antihistamines I prescribed for your infection."
...
So there ya go!  Here I'd been for months and months complaining and feeling increeeeeedibly self-conscious about this face infection, but in the end...that infection, or at least the treatment FOR that infection, may very well have prevented me from experiencing full-on anaphylactic shock!!
(Did I mention that I love synchronicity??)

Hugh and I on our way to the beach, oblivious to the trouble that would befall us. (Notice my bandaged shoulder?)

So I set about continued improvement, feeling quite amazed and lucky and optimistic.  But a couple days later, the marks on my legs again began to swell and itch--looking MUCH grosser and hurting MUCH more this time.  Then I started feeling fatigued and had a bit of a scratchy throat. :(
By this past Monday, I'd completely lost my voice and was beyond unwell.  This time around I've missed 3 days of school.  ::sigh::
My friend took me back to the "specialist."  (I put this in quotations because I don't think he's a gastroenterologist, so I don't know what his "specialty" actually is, only that he also practices general medicine.)  THIS time I came with a sheet of origami paper on the back of which I'd written out eeeeeeeeeeverything this doctor could possibly need to know.  ...Good move, me!!  This was much better than expecting my friend to remember and relay every little thing to this physician.  He was actually able to read the document himself and looked up the decongestant ingredient I'd named as having been a problem for me in the past.  He also even attempted to speak to me in English and seemed to have a new type of respect and care for me.  In the end, he said he suspected it was just a summer cold, but that my tonsils were swollen enough that he supposed it could also be an infection... So he treated both.  Hahaha!
I've gone from a girl who rarely to never took medication, especially if an alternative treatment (homeopathy, energy work, or changes in diet/routine) seemed likely to help, to a girl who takes MULTIPLE medications a day...and still feels like poo.
Yes, I write this from my sick bed where I am attempting to heal my body through rest.  I don't take any part of this adventure for granted, and I feel I'm somehow on the "right track" ...whatever that means and wherever it's going.
Once I've recovered, I look so forward to fully engaging in my life here again.  I've been here 4 of my 36 months and I hope the remaining 32 of em find me on a different kind of a quest.  ...I'd hate to have to come back to America in order to regain my health through Eastern medicine. :)

My life here is so richly blessed--with great people and new experiences. I must get well, so I can fully appreciate it! (This is a photo I took at the "Cat'fe" of a cat with tiny ears.)