The Impeach Box

By the bank of elevators on the Stem Cell floor is an inconspicuous metal box affixed to the wall. The English words “Impeach Box” appear in bright orange letters on it. Below these letters are the Chinese characters for “Complaints Box”. “Chinglish” signs can be found everywhere both inside and outside the hospital. Some are side-splittingly funny while others are just plain mystifying. My favorite so far is the phrase “tenderly reminding” which prefaces every bulletin and warning posted in the corridors and elevators. We are hereby lovingly and gently reminded that there is no smoking in the waiting areas and that certain exits will be inaccessible after certain hours.

Speaking about the Impeach Box, I would like to submit the following item for consideration:

Yesterday afternoon while Richard and I were at PT, I received a sharp rap on the top of my head by Dr. X (to protect his privacy, he will be unnamed), a PT doctor/therapist, who then upbraided me for sitting on the a piece of rehab equipment. I was in a state of shock because in the entire three weeks that we’ve been in PT, Dr. X has never spoken to me, save once. A week or two ago he told me that I could not park Richard’s wheelchair in the PT room. My cousin from Shanghai was visiting us at the hospital then. My cousin was the one who put the wheelchair there because she was not aware of the rules. Nevertheless, I apologized to Dr. X and brought the chair out.

Going back to the rap on my head, I reacted by jumping off the rehab equipment that I was sitting on (it was a padded bed with a U-shaped indentation at the head of the bed). Apparently, I was being reprimanded for sitting on the head of the bed. Richard has never used this piece of apparatus before for his PT. There were no signs or warnings posted in either Chinese or English on the equipment. It was not intuitively obviously, at least to me, that the head of the bed was fragile. The knock on my head was not painful but it had enough impact to be jarring both mentally and physically. I was embarrassed to be treated like a naughty child in front of all the patients, their caregivers and other therapists.

As the day progressed, I could sense a feeling of unease welling up inside of me. But I couldn't put my finger on why I was feeling that way. Later that night, I lay in bed running the day’s events through my mind. Was Dr. X’s rap on the head a Draconian punishment? More fundamental that that, what excuse does he have to meter out punishment to me, a stranger? Does he even have the right to even touch my head without asking? Could a similar incident happen in the United States or any other parts of the world? Yes, no, no and probably no in other parts of the world.

Because I could not think of a single occasion that I have offended Dr. X, it is baffling to me that this person should resort to physical force to get my attention. The only explanation that I could come up with is that I was the chosen victim or some scapegoat for their discontent. I did not come 7,000 miles to be someone’s punching bag. This thought so disturbed me that I had a sleepless night.

This morning, I spoke to Grace and Dora, the Beike program and patient managers at Nanshan. They were sympathetic and promised me that they’ll investigate the matter. I had two objectives in reporting this incident. First, I want to bring to their attention that such behavior is totally inappropriate and unacceptable. Even if it is condoned in China, which I doubt, I will not tolerate it. Secondly, I told them that if Dr. X were ever to behave inappropriately towards me again, I will take my compliant to a higher level.

A short while after, Dora came to my room and told me that she and Grace have had a chat with Dr. X. He was surprised that I had taken such offense to his “playful trick”. Furthermore, Dr. X had misinterpreted my rueful smile after receiving the rap on the head to be a smile of pleasure. Dora explained that Dr. X was totally caught off-guard by my complaint. Dr. X thought that I understood that he was just being “playful”.

I can see how I might have blown the whole incident off as high jinx had it been big Dr. Lee or the other doctors/therapists who had administered the blow. Over the last three weeks, I have chatted up all the doctors/therapists in both the PT and OT areas but Dr. X. Beyond the quick nod or “good morning” now and then, I have never elicited any conversation from Dr. X before. It therefore makes no sense that he would consider himself acquainted enough to “play a trick” on me.

For now, I will give him the benefit of the doubt. In the meantime, this unfortunate incident was the straw that broke the camel’s back. More than ever, I yearn for my family and friends, for their soothing words and touch, for their skill in coaxing me out of my melancholy. I am exhausted and demoralized. I remind myself that there is only another week left and it can’t come too soon.

Beginning yesterday, Richard has developed a mysterious rash on his upper torso and buttocks. Although the rash is somewhat noticeable, it is neither itchy nor painful nor does he have a fever. The two Dr. Yangs wanted Richard to be seen by a dermatologist at the outpatient clinic. This poor dermatologist was dispatched three times yesterday afternoon to come up to our room for a consult and all three times we were out at PT or OT or on our way up to the room.

We finally saw the dermatologist today and she confirmed that it was nothing more alarming than some sort of contact dermatitis resulting from either the recent changes in weather or the new detergent that the laundry company was using. (We have been sending our laundry out to be washed since the humid weather makes it impossible to air-dry clothing) She prescribed some skin ointment and oral medication. Richard is now resting comfortably on his bed waiting for the stem cells to arrive for his third lumbar puncture at 4pm.