On the afternoon of Sunday, October 7, 2012, I took a short taxi ride to Gangnam Severance Hospital. And yet the path to treatment of my right knee had been rather long. Nearly seven months had passed since I felt an ominous pain there. A couple of neighborhood medical men tried to diagnose it and bring relief, to no avail. Only when Dr. Choi Jong-Hyuk at the aforementioned hospital had me undergo an MRI did we discern the problem—a torn medial meniscus—and that it required endoscopic surgery. A few more tests, one of which showed a minor heart problem with which I was born, had to be done before the operation on October 8.
I was assigned bed number 2 in room 2508 on the orthopedic surgery wing of the hospital's fifth floor. I had five male roommates, and we all wore the same white pajamas emblazoned with the hospital's logo. One of Dr. Choi’s assistants came by to explain the next day's procedures, which I understood well. I had done this once before, back in 1999 in Austin, Texas. A rather young doctor with an old-school attitude repaired the meniscus on my left knee, and I must say he did a good job. I had experienced no problems with it in the 13 ensuing years.
This is as good a time as any to admit that there were some minor communication problems with the various people who took care of me during my 48 hours at Gangnam Severance Hospital, and I accept full blame for that. After nearly five years here, I should be moderately fluent in Korean. But since they spoke varying degrees of English, we did OK. Early on Monday morning, a man came to escort me downstairs to the pre-op room. White walls, bright lights, high-tech equipment everywhere, people wearing scrub uniforms. An IV went into my left hand, and I was put on a gurney and moved into the operating room. There the anesthesiologist, a nice woman who spoke superb English, gently inserted a long needle into my lower back. This was local anesthesia, meant to make me numb from the waist down. By no means was I lucid, however. I was dizzy, and faded in and out of consciousness over the next couple of hours.
A piece of blue cloth served to shield me from where the action was taking place, on my right knee. I had just the vaguest sense of Dr. Choi’s presence as well as that of numerous others. After just 30 minutes, it was over. Rich-Rich was wheeled into the post-op room and spent an hour or so before being whisked upstairs. When I got to my room, no fewer than six robust young women and men shifted me over to my bed. The nurse instructed me to lie without a pillow under my head and as motionless as possible until 3 p.m.
The anesthesia gradually wore off, and I felt some pain in my knee and in my lower back. My roommates heard an occasional groan from bed number 2, I am sure. But I do not ask or expect pity for hurting a little bit. What I felt 42 years ago after undergoing a spinal fusion—that was pain. Comparing Seoul in 2012 and Dallas in 1970 is like comparing a molehill to Mount Everest; one is not to be confused with the other.
Perhaps 10 times during my hospital stay, I pushed a red button that got the nurses’ attention. I was succinct: “Can you please help me?” They did so gladly every time. One of them came and helped me get out of bed and walk to the bath room. When I got back a few minutes later, I was in a daze and out of breath. Who was waiting for me there but my brilliant young friend Kimmie? She had gotten out of class and took a bus to the hospital. Although I had not encouraged any friends or colleagues to visit, it’s a good thing Kimmie came. I devoured the food she had brought, and she was there when Dr. Choi strode in. He took advantage of her presence by explaining (in Korean) a number of pertinent things. She then translated for me. Of course, he and I had some quick Q & A—including the fact that he had removed 30% of my meniscus—before he left. But I have to mention his entourage. He walked briskly, with four medical students or young doctors at his heels. None of them spoke a word. Instead, they listened and observed very intently. It was clear that they respected Dr. Choi, who had performed meniscectomies, and other kinds of orthopedic surgery, many times. Authoritative and yet possessed of a good attitude vis-à-vis his patients, the man clearly knew what he was doing. He exuded confidence.
On Monday night, I walked the length of the hall several times trying out my new and improved right knee. I also observed a little mini-concert given by some Christian singers. I cannot say I slept well or without pain, but neither was it too bad. I knew I was going home the following day. My five roommates all would be staying, as their problems were more serious than mine. One wore a prosthetic foot, and another had numerous skin grafts on his legs. I am not sure who the culprits were, but somebody tended to “bust wind,” and another snored loudly. Big deal. I’ve had girlfriends who did the same.
Dr. Choi and his young colleagues came by for another brief visit the next morning. Nurse Lee of the International Office then took me downstairs and facilitated my payment of just under 600,000 won—quite reasonable, I thought. I went back to room 2508, collected my belongings and shook hands with my roomies, wishing them the very best in overcoming their health problems. At the nurses' station, I paused and said a hearty kamsahamnida and anyeonghi gaseyo ("thank you" and "goodbye" in Korean) to them all. I had not been outside in nearly 48 hours, so the fresh air, sunshine and blue skies felt especially vivid. I took a taxi back to Gangnam Station, sitting behind the driver with my right leg extended. A big traffic jam slowed our progress, but do you think that bothered me?
Navigating through the Korean health care system, which is not set up for foreigners, had been an interesting experience. There were times when it felt a bit daunting, but I trusted that some logic underlay the process. Things have turned out well. I have to say I was impressed by everybody I encountered during those two days at Gangnam Severance Hospital: Dr. Choi, of course, but also the nurses and other workers. The facility was well designed and spotless. Hospital food has a bad reputation, but not at this place. It was excellent. I can see why Korea is a destination for medical tourists.
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