Cold, But Still Warm
This post doubles as an excuse for why I haven’t written about my Tokyo trip yet, but also to talk about my first time getting sick abroad. As I re-entered the work routine post-trip, a tickle in my throat forewarned the impending doom of a cold settling in. It made sense, it was winter in a new country, prime cold season. They might have types of colds I’d never had before, I could be practically defenseless!
I geared up, donning a mask after a two-year hiatus of being maskless and embarked on a mission to the drugstore. My rudimentary Japanese skills had me navigating the aisles based on vibes and pictures, desperately seeking the familiar comfort of throat lozenges à la Halls.
After much pacing, sighing, and a few muffled coughs, I stumbled upon what seemed like promising remedies. A quick translation confirmed my finds – cold meds and throat lozenges. A hefty $22 later, I headed home, nursing hopes for a swift recovery.
The morning came too early, and my head felt fuzzy. I vaguely remembered I had sick days written into my contract, but I never bothered to inquire about the details. I had seen through the many different hand books and guides I read that byokyu (sick leave) varied from contract to contract. It seemed the cultural expectation was often to use your nenkyu (vacation days) for minor things like colds, or simply power through and continue working anyways. Some places even required a doctor's note to take sick days, something I really didn’t want to go through.
As I faced the cultural conundrum of sick leave policies in Japan, I clung to the belief that powering through would showcase my job dedication. My arsenal of throat lozenges and cold meds accompanied me into the workplace, where exam time spared me from active teaching but not from prep work.
Days unfolded in a somewhat uneventful haze, with throat lozenges acting as my daily candy fix and cold meds serving as the intermittent saviors. Cold waves ebbed and flowed, seemingly synced with the diminishing effects of the meds. Evening rituals involved lying on the couch and early bedtime, anticipating a healthier tomorrow.
However, the morning sun revealed my optimism to be misplaced. It was the same as yesterday, if not worse. I sent a quick text to my supervisor asking when it was appropriate to take sick leave, and held my breath for a response. None came, though this didn’t shock me. She seemed to keep very busy, and probably checked her phone a lot less than a twenty something like me. I got ready and masked up for another day of battling the cold at work.
When I got to work, my supervisor approached with an “I’m so sorry, I didn’t see your mail”. With that, all was well, she explained I could definitely take a sick day, but I should check my temperature before I left. She handed me an armpit thermometer, reminding me of childhood days.
I excused myself to the bathroom, undid a few buttons, and nestled it between my ribs and my right arm. After a minute or two, it gave me a few chirps letting me know it was finished. My temperature was 38 degrees, a tad warm, I thought. Little did I know this would cause much more concern from my supervisor.
Suddenly there was a flurry of activity as she went to the vice principals, likely explaining I would be taking a sick day, then hurriedly talking with the other teachers. A small cold felt like it had spiraled into something much larger. The teacher next to me joked that she was like my mother, something that often felt true, usually in an endearing sense.
Though today, I felt the mild flush of embarrassment that only a mother seems to give. As she ushered me out the door, collecting a thermometer, masks, and cooling sheets from around the office and the other teachers, I was ordered home. After a long nap with a cooling sheet on, I was starting to feel better. It felt like the cold was winding down, and I was sure I could be back to work tomorrow.
The next day I woke up at the usual time, getting ready for work. Though to be safe, I took my temperature once again. 37.7 degrees. I think I usually run a little warm, and today I felt the best I had all week, it was probably fine. Before I left, my supervisor asked for my temperature, so I shot back a quick text. Suddenly, I found myself in sick day limbo. Was I fit for work, or was I a potential office hazard?
After a quick phone call, she urged me to go see the doctor, something I was rather hesitant to do. I don’t like to see the doctor at the best of times, let alone seeing one for the first time, in a new country, with a language barrier. Although I felt pretty good, her fears made sense. If I had covid or the flu, regardless of how well I felt, I would have to stay home to avoid spreading it around. I walked over to a clinic, the only one in town it seemed, and was met with a long line.
Immediately this felt familiar, like going to the clinic back home in Canada. It was first come first served with no real sense of how long it might take, only that I should brace for the worst.
After about 30 minutes in line, I was given a first time patient form to fill out. I shuffled off to the side and began to fill it out, thankfully the form was in English. After I finished I pushed to the front to return the form, only to be shown areas I missed or forgot to fill out. Once this was done it was time to play the waiting game.
After another 45 ish minutes I was shown to a new seating area, a small tent with two chairs. More time passed, and a doctor came to examine my throat, but he didn't show any real concern, despite it still bothering me.
Later, the nurse came by with a covid test, giving instructions in Japanese I couldn’t follow. She tilted my head back and inserted the swab, swirling it clockwise, in a way that felt like scratching behind your eyes. Once she was done, she showed me both palms, fingers outstretched, more waiting. Finally the doctor and nurse returned, negative for covid and the flu, it was just a cold after all.
Tired and vindicated, I returned home. I lazed around, ate some pizza, and reflected on this sick saga. While a cold's unwelcome embrace always sucks, the care and concern exhibited by my co-workers revealed a sense of belonging. Amid sniffles and coughs, I was slowly beginning to feel the warmth I associate with the feeling of home. I don’t think I’ll stay in Japan forever, but everyone wants to feel welcome, and getting a cold showed me that I was exactly where I needed to be.
