Surgical Masks and Umbrellas on Eye Charts

On Thursday morning, my roommate Jenn and I were scheduled to have our medical exams. This exam is required by South Korea for anyone staying in the country for an extended length of time. We were picked up by a shuttle provided by our company and were met with the pleasant discovery that we were not alone: there are 5 other teachers in our hotel with us. We all piled into a mini van and headed over to Seoul Medical Center. Upon entering, the volunteer interpretor somehow managed to instantly figure out that we were the group of Americans she was expecting. She told us to take a seat, and then returned with a box of surgical masks, forcing each of us to put one on for the duration of our exam, demonstrating the comforting level of confidence the Korean government has in Americans to not be carrying H1N1.

The first step of the exam was to file some paperwork and have our temperature taken. This was accomplished quickly and painlessly by some sort of laser device that points at your forehead and can read your temperature without even touching you. This was the second time I was subjected to a reusable, no-cleaning-required thermometer that can take temperatures from an inch away (the first time was at the airport, with your temperature taken, for some inexplicable reason, behind your ear). It is beyond me why this technology has not appeared in the US yet.

Next we were all herded upstairs, where we began a sort of follow-the-leader game through the hospital. In the first room, we had our height, weight, and blood pressure taken, then our hearing was checked. Next, we had to pass a color blindness test (more difficult for some than for others) and identify numbers and objects on an eye chart. These tests were made even more stressful due to performance anxiety, since at least three other teachers were in the room at all times to laugh at you if you made a mistake. I provided some entertainment by mistakenly identifying a tiny picture of a car on the eye chart as cherries.

After the first room, I was told to follow the green tape on the floor of the hallway to the x-ray room. The hallways of Seoul Medical Center are conveniently lined with color-coded strips of tape to help you reach whatever test you need. It's actually an incredibly smart system which efficiently transcends the language barrier, although at least half the employees of the hospital could speak English. So I followed the green tape to get a chest x-ray, then followed the red tape to get blood tests. They drew three vials of blood to test us for Hepatitis, Anemia, and AIDS. Most unfortunately, I underwent bloodwork at home to test myself for anemia just before I left the country, and I was extremely displeased to learn I would need to do it again. The blood drawing occurred in a room with one long desk that could take two people at once, with the waiting area directly behind you so that anyone walking by could witness your blood being drawn. Maybe a strange system, but it also went extremely quickly. After the blood test, I had to provide a urine sample, which I had to carry in an open cup through the hallway. Super gross. All in all, the hospital was incredibly efficient, finishing all 7 of our tests in about an hour.

The best thing about the medical exam was that it turned out to be a great bonding event for all of us. There's something about watching your fellow teacher insist that the 48 hidden in the color-blindness test is actually an 18 that brings people together. Not to mention seeing all the regular hospital patrons cover their mouths as they walk by because our surgical masks make us look like we have some sort of incurable disease.