Alright, before you get all insane and send me messages asking me if I am ok: yes. I am fine. Just read on and become one with the story.
So, I have been to the hospital here 4 times now. In order for me to get my medication for my brain parts I need to go to a specific doctor. There may be a clinic somewhere I can go, but for now I go to Taipei Hospital to their psychiatric unit. I have told some people the stories of my visits, but realized I've never actually wrote about it.
The first time I went to the hospital it was because my medication was about to run out. I had gotten a three months supply from my doctor back home and I had nearly run that supply out. I was even debating weaning myself off so that I wouldn't have to face the system here to get more medication. After talking with some people and praying about it I found that it was just not a wise decision to get off a mental stabilizing drug whilst living in a foreign country. Now that I look back on it that would have been a stupid decision to make. A friend of mine gave me guidance and called around to find where I needed to go for my specific need. He let me know that I needed to go to Taipei Hospital because they had the department to handle such a situation. He told me all I had to do was walk in, get a number, wait my turn, tell them what I needed, and they would guide me the rest of the way.
The day I finally decided to go I walked in and was immediately overwhelmed with the amount of activity going on and my own feelings of feeling completely helpless and alone. I have been in an American hospital before, but this was hardly anything like it. The lobby was packed, and so many people were moving around, and there were many voices over the intercom. The signs were in both Chinese and English, but this didn't help me with any announcements they were making above me. I've never told myself, "I'm fine, I'm ok, don't cry, I can do this." so many times in my life. Of course I was crying but trying to keep it together. Turns out it wasn't as simple as just taking a number. There are two options. Either "register" or "charge." Being as how I have no idea what any of those really mean I stood there not knowing what to do. Enter guardian angel. A Taiwanese woman who works as a volunteer at the hospital came up to me and told me she would help me. Her name is Joyce. She spoke good enough English to help me out. We filled out a form and registered me with the hospital. She left me to work out the rest with the reception desk, of whom which did not know English. This started my second round of crying due to the frustration and helplessness. Now...I'm the type who works things out. I figure things out for myself. I ask for help when necessary, but largely like to do the research and work it out on my own. In this situation I had nothing. So all my body could do was break down. I wasn't standing there sobbing, but everyone knew I was not ok. The reception made a call and a young man came up to me shortly after and spoke pretty good English to help me out. After it got sorted I got my papers and he took me to the psychiatric unit.
Once there he showed me how to scan in my health card and talked to the nurse for me. He told me she didn't know English, but the two doctors I was about to see did. I then sat for the next 45 minutes to an hour in the waiting room where I was pretty relentlessly stared at. There were people there who definitely made me feel normal. Some people rocking in place, or yelling randomly into the relatively quiet room. The TV was playing a cooking show but was pretty awful in quality. I sat there slowly calming down and listened for my name. The first doctor I saw was more of a consultation sort of doctor who asked me a bunch of questions. Most of them I had never been asked before, but they wanted to see if I was nuts. The second doctor I saw was the actual doctor for the unit. He asked me more questions, then eventually gave me a 2 week prescription, even though I had assured him that I had been taking most of these meds for the better part of 10 years and would be fine. After waiting for what seemed like an eternity I was given more paperwork and a note saying to take them down to the counter to get my prescriptions. Great.
I walked downstairs, again hopelessly lost in the sea of people. Yet again my angel found me! Joyce found me almost immediately and helped me get a number and waited with me until my number was called. I paid for my visit and medication (about $10), and she guided me to another waiting area where I waited for another number of mine to be called to get my prescription. As soon as that wait was over and I had gotten what I needed, she found me yet again and told me everything was going to be alright. I really believe that Jesus sent me this angel to help me out, because without her I would not have been able to do anything. The thought of it all still brings me to tears.
SO! When I go back it is not bad. Sometimes I need to see the doc, which takes 2 hours out of my life due to the wait, and sometimes all I need to do is go in to get a refill. Most of the time I see Joyce and she asks me, "how is your body?" Which is really sweet.This last week I had to go in and get some blood work done (I am use to this, being as how Lithium threatens to shut my kidneys down), but it was not at all like the fiasco of going to the hospital for the first time. I always treat myself afterwards, and it is an experience I can share and laugh about (eventually haha).
