Hello one and all, I have to apologise profusely for not having written very much lately. You know how it is, one gets into idle mode, and other things crop up, which gives us an excellent excuse for not doing what we should be doing in theory.

Some of you may or may not know that I have been visiting Japan. Oh, golly gosh, what an incredible and beautiful country. I was having such a fantastic time and just kept telling myself how lucky I was.

About a couple of weeks into my trip, I found myself in the stunning mountain village of Hakone. It is a must-visit as there is so much to see and do, and it is breathtaking. Approximately two nights before leaving, I was walking out of the building to collect my washing from the machine when “lo and behold”, I missed a step, tripped, and went crashing to the ground. As anyone will know who has broken a limb or a bone, we know immediately, don’t we? The pain was excruciating, and my hand and wrist were all in the wrong place. The workmen who witnessed my latest escapade rushed to pull me to my feet, and one even helped me get my washing out of the machine. I might mention that I had a lot of underwear, and the young man seemed more interested in my panties (The ones in the machine) than in my woeful state. He kept saying how sexy my undies were, and in all honesty, the last thing I wanted to hear was what he thought of my knicks.

I immediately went to reception and said that I needed to see a doctor or visit a hospital straight away. The girl was very kind as she informed me that the hospitals were closed in the evening and that in Hakone there were no Doctors.

Now as you can all imagine, I was astonished that firstly there were no Doctors in this village, but even more, the fact that the hospitals closed at night time. How can a hospital close a night time? What do they do with the in-patients? Do they lock them all up for the night and go home, or do they throw them out and tell them to come back the next day? Very strange indeed!. So there was me with broken “Lord knows what” and had to wait till the next day.

The following day, the receptionist now tells me that there are no hospitals and that I have to go to the next town called Odawara, which is 7km away. I call a taxi and march myself off the hospital.

(At this point in writing, I need to say that I love and adore the Japanese people, but Jeepers creepers, they are so pernickety it can drive one up the wall)

I entered the Florence Nightingale-style hospital and approached the reception. A very nice young man comes up to attend to me and immediately shows me his mobile phone that says “We don’t speak English. So we have to go through the translator Google.” I do appreciate that I am in Japan and that it is me that needs to be able to speak their language and not vice-versa. He politely asks me to fill out a form that is in both Japanese and English. At least we are getting somewhere, that is till I read the paper.

OH, WHAT FUN!

First question. Full name?. I answer that.

Date of Birth? No problem there, I still know that one.

Age, years and months? Surely If they know my date of birth, then they must know how old I am!

When was your last menstruation?.. At this point, I think that this must be some silly joke. At my sweet age, how in heaven’s name am I going to remember when I had my last poxy period?

Now! Wait for it! Here comes the prize question…!

WHEN DID YOU LAST HAVE SEX…? Excuse me! I have come into the hospital to see about my poor old broken bone or bones, and they want to know when I last had sex! Really! I ask you, What has my sex life got to do with a fractured wrist? (OK, please do not answer that)

I felt like saying that I had sex ten minutes before with the drop-dead gorgeous taxi driver. (In my dreams that I should be so lucky!) but I didn’t think it would go down very well.

After this came a never-ending list of possible allergies, illnesses, vaccinations, operations, etc.

By this time, I think that the only allergy I could have been suffering from was an allergy to a mile-long questionnaire that had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with why I am even standing in this hospital. I handed the paper back to the assistant, and she slowly proceeded to go through it with a fine-tooth comb. Of course, how did you guess? she managed to find several insignificant questions that I hadn’t answered and insisted that I fill them in. (Oh Dear God, give me patience, but hurry)

Finally, they accepted the questionnaire and the young man who I first saw said, “We accept you!” Accept? Yes, those were his exact words! I started to wonder if they had misunderstood and thought that I was applying for a job. He then informed me that nine people were waiting ahead of me. “Well, suffering cats”, I certainly wasn’t ‘going to spend the rest of the day hanging around in this Godforsaken place when it didn’t even inspire me with much confidence. As kindly as I could, I thanked them and said I couldn’t wait so long. I took my leave and searched for another taxi driver to screw (in my dreams.)

The following day, I took the bullet train back to Tokyo and headed immediately to the highly recommended EX Pats favourite hospital that spoke English. As luck would have it, the Orthopedic Doctor wasn’t available. So the only other option was to go to emergency. After waiting for several hours, I eventually got to see a young intern. On close inspection of an unfortunate hand and wrist, he informed me that I possibly had some fractured bones! Yeah, well, thanks for that information, like I didn’t already know. Of course, once again, I was to wait a few more hours to get the darned thing ex-rayed and surprise surprise! Yep! The result was a very nasty break with splintered bones!

The Interns told me that the cost in Japan would be exorbitant but that they could give me a temporary splint until I returned to Bangkok. (It was evident that they were not in a position to do anything else, so I agreed.) Gosh, talk about a NEVER ENDING STORY! Yet again! it was another eternal period before they decided to do something to fix the fracture.

After an uneventful flight back to Bangkok and checking into my usual hostel, I made my way to my preferred hospital in this city of Angels. I need to mention a couple of things here; as much as I love my hospital and it is possibly top of the list in health care. Without a shadow of a doubt, they view us Farangs (Thai word for white people or Westerners, generically referring to non-Asians) as “Walking ATMs” I promise you this is true. I am not saying this in a derogative way. It’s just a fact.

So to continue with my story. I managed to get an immediate appointment to see the Doctor, and of course, he confirmed that I needed an operation straight away. Otherwise, I possibly wouldn’t get back the full use of my hand. What I wasn’t expecting was for him to do the operation there and then!!! He was already checking when I had last eaten! Ha, and now comes the best bit! When he told me the price, I nearly fell over and would have broken the other flipping wrist! Well! This ATM was having none of that. I thanked him graciously and decided to check out other well-known hospitals in the capital.