I mentioned this before, but every time we pet puppies here in China, something medically bizarre happens to Mark. Puppies are usually sold off of the sidewalk, as are kittens, goldfish, turtles and lizards. Their adorable, sad puppy faces call your name. You know you shouldn’t. You know these cute little mutts and inbred purebreds are dirty. But you do. We did.
In the fall, we were walking down the sidewalk when we came across a guy selling puppies out of a cardboard box that he had strapped to the back of his motorcycle. We stopped, and Mark picked one up and cuddled it in his coat for a minute. The poor little thing needed some comfort. Death was definitely knocking on its cardboard box. Days later, Mark became violently ill with a number of unpleasant symptoms. I Googled all of his symptoms-I’m not about to list them- to try and figure out what was wrong. But then I went beyond his symptoms and just started reading bizarre medical stories – like the one about the super bacteria you can catch from under-chlorinated pool water- and it’s antibiotic-resistant! It killed a kid in New Mexico! Never mind that we hadn’t been swimming. I became convinced he would die any moment, from both dehydration and antibiotic-resistant bacterial strains running amok. We went to the doctor and they rehydrated my poor boo intravenously (The Chinese really love any and all drip-style medications, by the way. If we feel ill, our Chinese friends like to ask, “Do you need an injection?”) Aside from the rehydrating, he got some medicine, and I still don’t know what it was, but I Googled the ingredients in it, too. Definitely not available in the US. And it worked like a charm.
Months passed and we nearly forgot about the first puppy disaster. So, we pet a few more sad looking little guys. And, like clockwork, a new bizarre condition surfaced in unfortunate Mark. He just can’t catch a break. He developed what looked sort of like acne..but…wasn’t. Mutant, small under-the-skin boils around his mouth, that hurt. One cropped up one day, another the next. They were spreading. I Googled “face boil” infection, and immediately decided a bacteria would enter his bloodstream any minute and kill him. There are a dizzying array of family doctor type sites out there, and each one of them scared the bejesus out of me with their freakish, long-named, crazy skin conditions. But can you blame me? We’re in a foreign country and something foreign had invaded my fiance’s face. I was completely freaked out. Our friend, his English name Chain, told us that Mark was simply “on fire.” That’s the Chinese traditional medical term for it. We don’t quite understand what that means, but every time in the last week Mark has told a Chinese friend “I’m on fire,” they understood precisely, and usually told him to eat more vegetables, wear more clothes and avoid sweets and beer.
Like a typical man, Mark totally ignored his symptoms and my harping about going to the doctor for days. He instead got all Quasimoto and hid and sulked around in our apartment like it was the bell tower of Notre Dame. Finally, he ventured into the world again and took his fire face to the doctor on campus. We had a Chinese friend translate for us with a doctor via our cell phone to describe symptoms. The doctor busted a big flash light from his desk drawer and shone it on Mark’s chin. He spoke in Chinese to our friend on the cell, and then our friend translated, “He thinks it’s bacterial.” The doctor wrote down a prescription for two topical medications. They cost-get this-78 cents for both of them. And immediately, the medication began to work. No expensive diagnostic tests, no fancy blood work. The visit was free and the medicine cost under a dollar. If only it were that easy back home.
The point to this blog? Don’t pet puppies in China. And don’t let Google get too firm a hold on your imagination. Just go to the doctor; if you can afford it.
From China, with love 