The Hospital Trip
February 9, 1990 (Friday)
When I woke up the next day, my abdomen was on fire. Or rather, the pain in my gut had localized … an area right above the appendix. When I touched it, it hurt. But at the same time, I was also able to ignore the pain if I had to.
As I rose from my yo, Elder Benjamin said, “Good morning, tongbanja. How did you sleep?”
“I don’t know,” I said, “I think I have a hernia. Watch this.” I touched my painful area and said, “Ouch!”
“That’s interesting. Can I try?”
“Sure.”
He came over, touched my hurt area, and I said, “Ouch!” again. “See? What’s going on?”
“Let’s ask Elder Johnston what he thinks we should do.”
At this point, I’m hoping you can see that after yesterday’s disasters, we had already accepted our new district leader overnight.
As the four of us ate breakfast, strawberry rice pudding (a mission favorite), Elder Benjamin said, “Hey Elder Johnston. My tongbanja’s stomach pain has moved into his appendix.”
“What?” said Elder Johnston. “Appendicitis? I had that. But Elder Elder — it doesn’t look like you’re doubling over.”
“I think it’s a hernia,” I said. “It doesn’t hurt that much.”
Elder Benjamin asked, “What should we do?”
“I think you two should relax today. Cancel your appointments, and see what happens. Maybe it’ll go away on its own.”
However, it didn’t go away. At around 3PM, it was still hurting, and we were bored and stuck at home while Elders Johnston and Riley were out and about. My abdomen was still on fire, but no doubling over, as Elder Johnston had put it.
“Okay, Elder Elder,” said Elder Benjamin. “I’m making an executive decision. I’ll call the AP’s and see what they think we should do.”
He called and then thirty minutes later, our phone rang. Elder Benjamin answered the phone and said to me, “It’s for you. It’s President Anderson!”
“Whoa,” I said, taking the phone. “Hello?”
“Hey Elder Elder. I need you to go to the hospital immediately. Closest one,” said President Anderson.
“I don’t think it’s that bad. The hospital sounds expensive.”
“We’ll cover the costs,” he said. “The AP’s debriefed me:. You think it’s a hernia, but if it’s appendicitis, it could rupture at any time, and you shouldn’t wait. Get in there before they close down the ER.”
And that was that. The quick phone call ended.
And then Elder Benjamin said, “Let me call Ji-su. He can help us check in at the hospital.”
Noh Ji-su (노지수) was one of our ward missionaries who happened to live in the same apartment complex as us. Within 30 minutes, the three of us were on the way to the hospital.
As we sat near the back of the bus, Ji-su said, “Is it really hurting right now? You don’t look like you’re in much pain.”
I said, “Would you like to touch it, too? I can show you.”
“No — I’m okay.”
The closest hospital happened to be Catholic-run. Every room had a cross hanging on a wall, and sometimes even two. The ER was moderately busy. It only took an hour before someone got to me. They poked around my spot and took some x-rays, and then said, “We going to admit you, and run more tests in the morning. We need to keep you under observation.”
After another hour, I was fully moved into room 249, which already had five other roommates. Being the only American, I was immediately popular, especially since I could speak Korean. I was in Bed #4 in a corner next to the window.
For the first thirty minutes, one patient in particular couldn’t keep quiet. Cho In-jae (조인재) in Bed #2, kitty-corner from my bed, appeared to be in his mid-fourties. He had a thin mustache and spoke in a deep basso. One hand was entirely wrapped up, and I couldn’t see any fingers. He joked about me being young and American, and about Elder Benjamin following me around. And he had a deep joyful laugh. Every now and then, he’d say something in funny broken English, and laugh about that, too, causing most of the other roommates to in the fun and laughing.
In the bed next to me, #5, was Kim Hyun-shik (김현식), though it seemed he couldn’t stay in bed. His shoulder was wrapped up, but he was clearly mobile. One minute he’d be next to my bed, and the other, he’d be across the room talking to some other guy. For some reason, he seemed very interested in watching my IV liquids dripping.
The other patients all stayed in their beds. The guy across from me in Bed #1 was older and didn’t say much. He slept most of the time. Though at this moment, he was awake and trying to smile. That was Chang Chung-min (장정민) who had been in the hospital for at least a year, and had just received a liver transplant.
At the far end of the room were Kim Chi-hwan (김지환) in Bed #3 and Yu Won-yong (유원용) in Bed #6. The first of which lost his thumb in a machine accident at work, and the other had a rash all over his body, and a wrapped-up hand except for his thumb and index finger.
And they all seemed happy to see us two new Americans. Laughing and telling jokes, they were enjoying the light-heartedness and good fun. They asked what I was in for, and said how they hoped I would do well.
Our church friend, Ji-su, helped me the whole time to get situated. He had checked us in to the ER, and was continually explaining to us how everything worked. You see, we missionaries were practically fluent in Korean language that dealt with God and Jesus. We could answer most any questions about spiritual matters, and explain key words unique to our religion, but when it came to words related to other professions, we might as well have been infants. We didn’t know any medical terms. And we were also pretty light on language related to financial matters. This is where Ji-su came in.
And as things calmed down in our room, he entertained me. He pulled out a Go board from the bookcase and showed me how to play Five Throat. For some reason, Koreans seemed to think we young missionaries were too young to learn how to play actual Go, so they never taught us. It was something only older people played. Instead, we were relegated to other “easier” games that you can play on the same board.
Ji-su first showed me how the pebbles were supposed to go on the square corners, and not inside the squares themselves, which seemed backward at first — but then you get used to it. And then he showed me Five Throat. Basically, it’s just Tic Tac Toe, but you try to get five in a row, including diagonally. Black plays first, placing the pebble anywhere on a 19x19 grid. Then white places a pebble near the first. And whoever gets five in a row first wins.
And wouldn’t you know it — he beat me every time! Perhaps he was correct about us not being able to handle Go. I then played Elder Benjamin, and I finally won a game — we took turns winning.
Ji-su stayed with us another hour just to make sure there was no more business to handle. He called in all the other ward missionaries to come visit. They showed up about the same time he was leaving. Brother Pak laughed at me: one week a great Open House, and the next week I’m in the hospital! We played more Five Throat, which is when I learned that most of these Koreans were quite proficient. None of the usual “letting the new person win” thing. It was their way of showing respect — because if and when you won a game, you would know that you had actually earned it.
The other missionaries came to visit, too. Elders Johnston and Riley, and Sisters King and Anderson. They talked about how they wanted to bring in food, but were given orders that I was to have no food. Rather, the opposite was going to happen. An enema. Oh yeah — fun times ahead!
Each of the regular missionaries and ward missionaries took turns talking to me and the other patients. Well, except for Bed #1, who just didn’t feel like talking. But man, In-jae in Bed #2 was enjoying the attention. Such a joyful mood in the whole room!
While my entourage was visiting, the nurse came in started my treatments. I got an IV, which I learned to hate. Needles are scary, and I didn’t want to mess anything up. So, once the IV went in, I stayed in bed and didn’t move much. She gave me a medicine for the enema, which later gave me reasons to get up. And I think I got something for the pain. One of those drugs made me sleepy, and my entourage decided to disperse.
Well, except for Elder Benjamin, of course. Mission rule was that we were never to be alone, and a trip to the hospital was no exception. While I got full treatment: a bed and food (after the enema), Elder Benjamin got nothing but a chair right next to me, and it wasn’t all too comfortable.
“Don’t worry about me, buddy,” he said to me. “I’ll be here to watch over my tongbanja.” Later on, a nurse did relent and give him a blanket. While I fell asleep, I did see Elder Benjamin squirming in his chair a few times, trying to find the perfect position for resting.
February 10, 1990 (Saturday)
Room 249, itself, wasn’t too exciting. Six beds … three on one side, and three on the other. Next to me was the window, which was set high on the wall, so we didn’t have much to see except the clouds rolling by in the sky. Next to the window was our room TV, but it was seldom on. It cost 100 Won to watch thirty minutes, so no one hardly bothered unless a visitor really wanted to turn it on. That’s also where the crucifix was: over the TV set.
The walls were a standard white, and the fluorescent light a soft white as well. At night when the overheads were turned off, there were still some night lights scattered here and there, so we never got complete darkness. We also had our own personal lamps, but mine was broken.
And the smells … well, I’ll let you imagine. It was all … interesting.
A nurse woke me up early and gave me a shot to complete the enema. That kept me busy for about fifteen minutes. And then it was time to get x-rayed.
That was one room Elder Benjamin couldn’t enter. So, he waited outside the door. He told me later that those chairs were more comfortable, and he got a little shut-eye.
Inside the room, the doctors pumped me full of white stuff and proceeded to x-ray — one of those live-picture machines. And get this … they couldn’t find anything. The appendix looked normal, and no signs of any hernias.
What?
They then said they’d keep me in for a couple more days for observation in case it flared up again. The strange thing was … the pain mostly seemed to be going away. But then again … it was still there. Didn’t make any sense.
The good news was that when I went back to my room, I was given the green light to eat food again. Yay! The bad news: I had missed breakfast.
The other patients cheered the declaration. Hyun-shik, Bed #5 next to me, gave me a bottle of Cool-Pis, a popular peachy fruit drink. And yeah — I kid you not on the name. I’m certain that an American had helped that company come up with a unique name. I wonder how that conversation had gone …
“Tell us. What does it taste like to you?”
“Wow! This is some cool piss!”
It actually wasn’t that bad — a little on the sweet side, but one of my guilty pleasures. Go ahead — I’ll let you Google that one, and you can come back here.
Though refreshing, I was still crazy hungry. And just in the nick of time, Sisters Anderson and King showed up with a cake they had made. Lemon with white icing. A few members came as well, delivering me oranges and cookies. They had all anticipated I’d be hungry after the overnight fast, and so they timed it just right. My fellow inmates (as we called ourselves) also enjoyed the treats.
Lunch finally came just before noon, but they skipped me. Everyone got lunch except for me. Just when we were about to complain, my lunch showed up. While the others had received Korean food (what they call just “food”), they brought me American: Hamburger steak, potato salad, pears, peaches, french fries, and coffee mix. I laughed at the last one, but I ate the rest of the stuff.
Elder Benjamin went up to the nurse and said, “Hey — just to let you know — Elder Elder can eat Korean food just fine. Very delicious!”
At dinner time, it was the same thing … all the others got their food and even finished it before my dinner came out, and it was American food again: steak, onions, apple, sweet potatoes soup, and coffee mix. But this time I didn’t eat much of it, because I had had several visitors throughout the day who had also brought food. So, there wasn’t too much room in the inn. I ended up sharing my dinner with the other inmates, and I was full.
The other Elders showed up, and offered to swap out with Elder Benjamin, but he said, “No thanks. I need to stay with my tongbanja. Our investigators can wait. Plus, I’ve got plans.”
And yes he did. That afternoon, he did the rounds, visiting all of the other patients in the room.
Chung-min in Bed #1 grunted mostly, and went back to sleep.
Won-yong in Bed #6 said thanks for talking to him, but wanted to hear nothing about the Gospel.
Chi-hwan in Bed #3 was more receptive. The younger ones usually were, and of the five, he appeared to be the youngest. Elder Benjamin spent nearly an hour talking with him and gave him a Mormon Kyeong. He also learned that his daughter played piano. When I heard that, I reached into my bag and pulled out a small metal piano had Elder Benjamin give it to him.
Hyun-shik, next to me in Bed #5, was also more receptive, but he was much more interested in learning about English.
In-jae, in Bed #2, only wanted to tell loud jokes.
It was fun and relaxing watching Elder Benjamin do his work around the room. No one in the country was safe from him spreading the Word.
I also tried to participate as well. But mostly stuck in my bed with that stupid IV in my arm, I was pretty much stuck with Hyun-shik next to me, and also In-jae, who was very loud, and who did most of the talking while others laughed.
Later that night, the doctor paid a visit, performed a cursory observation, and said, “I’m sorry. We just can’t tell if it’s acute appendicitis or not. Something’s going on, and we’re trying to figure out what it is. We’ll hold you one more day in here, and if nothing happens, we’ll release you on Monday.”
February 11, 1990 (Sunday)
The word had gotten out that I was to be released shortly, so I didn’t have many visitors this day. Plus, they were all most likely busy with their usual Sunday activities.
While I was asleep, Chung-min in bed #1 was sent home, his latest operation being considered a success. The guy who replaced him was even older and more sleepy, so I didn’t catch his name.
Breakfast came a little quicker after the other’s breakfasts. Eggs, bread, milk, apple, and the coffee mix again. Instead of coffee, I mixed the apple and sugar in their hot water to make apple tea.
About an hour later, two nuns entered the room and proceeded to make their rounds. They started with Bed #3 next to the door and worked down that side of the room down to Bed #1, praying, doing the sign of the cross with their hands, and so on. The man in Bed #1 didn’t wake up, but they prayed for him, anyway. Then they went to Bed #4, and then Bed #5. It was fun to see how these nuns were cheering up each of the patients, brightening their days.
And after seeing Hyun-shik in Bed #5, they left the room without even as much as looking in our direction.
“Um,” said Elder Benjamin. “That’s interesting.”
“Yeah. Rude. Because we’re Americans? They think I can’t speak Korean?”
“No. I think it’s these badges. The Abominable Church recognizes its foe. They think we’re a lost cause. Since we’re already going to hell, why even try?”
I had to admit, though, that it didn’t seem very Christlike to single out one patient and not administer to them. Talk about your downer moments!
The rest of the day was rather slow, so I’ll speed on ahead. Let’s see. In-jae from Bed #2 spoke to us a lot. Or rather, to the whole room — he was still that loud. He wanted to know more about our church. What was it that made it so important that we had decided to serve two years in Korea? Both Elder Benjamin and I answered his questions with everyone else listening (except for Bed #1).
Both Elder Benjamin and I were born into the Church. I was from the South, and he was from Utah. We each shared some of the miracles we had witnessed and how the Gospel had blessed our lives, helping us to be both happy and productive.
And then In-jae told us his story. He had grown up without religion, and ended up working in a factory. That’s where his accident had happened, and it turns out that he still has all five of his fingers. He had suffered a deep gash in between two of his fingers that was taking its time to heal.
We tried to give him a Book of Mormon, but then he said, “No thanks. I just wanted to hear your story. I’m not religious at all. But you guys are great. Continue to work hard.”
I also continued the English lessons with Hyun-shik in Bed #5, while he taught me more Korean. Out of all the people in the room, he spoke the clearest Korean, usually a good sign that he had a good chance of learning English as well.
Sisters Card and Jeffries came a little after lunch and had a good talk with him, and they gave him a Mormon Gyeong. Part of me was like: why wouldn’t you take one from us after all our English lessons? But just remember: each person reacts differently to different people. That’s why God sends a variety of people to do His work.
We were then up to two Mormon Gyeongs floating around the room. Chi-hwan in Bed #3 was reading his copy nonstop. However, guess what? He lived in the Daemong district, which … yes … it meant another set of Elders was going to get the baptism.
February 12, 1990 (Monday)
In the morning, the doctor pushed on my abdomen one last time and proclaimed that I was free to leave the hospital, but I was to come back a few more times for further check-ups and analysis. Elder Benjamin was extremely happy with this news. It was only then he told me that his back was killing him.
When I reminded him about how the others had offered to switch, he again reiterated that he would have none of that. He wasn’t going to leave me behind.
Shortly after breakfast, my IV liquid had run out and the machine started beeping. Did I mention how much I hate needles in my arm? It was always the worst when the liquid ran out, because the vacuum resulted in a strange pressure in my vein.
Hyun-shik in Bed #5 noticed I had run out and he ran over. Always with the running! “Your IV is done. Let’s go get a nurse. You don’t need these anymore.”
I said, “I’m okay. They’ll be here soon to take it out.”
“Doesn’t it hurt? Come on. Get up.”
I got up despite the added pressure on my vein, and we hurriedly went out to the nurse’s station. A nurse took it out, and I noticed a nice bruise starting to form. Yay!
Hyun-shik asked, “Do you feel better now?”
“Sure.”
Oh, did I tell you that he didn’t live in our district, either?
And finally came the time to leave. As I got dressed into my street clothes, there was silence in the room.
A nurse was changing out the sheets on my bed. And just as I was getting ready to go out the door, another nurse brought in my replacement, a tall man with a serious face in his late 40s. Scanning him up and down, I saw nothing wrong with him. Absolutely no pain in his face.
He looked down at me and asked, “Are you the person who was in this bed?”
“Yes, sir.” The man demanded respect from his presence alone.
He looked at my tag. “Elder Elder? You look quite young to be an ‘Elder.’ I’m an Elder, myself, in the Presbyterian Church. It took many years of learning and experience. What does someone like you know of being an ‘Elder’?”
After a brief pause, I answered, “I preach the Gospel. I bring people to Jesus.”
Looking down at me, he laughed. “I don’t see how you can be an effective missionary. There’s just so much you do not know, yet. Perhaps later, but seriously … how can someone like you bring people to Christ?”
“I just do.” And I turned to leave. Hyun-shik walked over to me and said in English, “Thanks for fun time. Good luck out there.”
“You too — get out fast. Get better,” I said.
In-jae in Bed #2 said loudly, “Let’s hear it for Elder Elder and Elder Benjamin!” Except for the new guy in Bed #1 and new guy replacing me, the others cheered.
Chi-hwan in Bed #3 said, “Good luck, Elder Elder. And thanks for the small piano. My daughter loves it!”
Won-yong in Bed #6 said, “It’s been fun. Don’t come back!”
I shook hands with all of them. In-jae was around and about like crazy and shook my hands three times. The last time, he said, “Hey, do you all still have an extra copy of one of those Mormon Gyeongs? I’m feeling a little left out, here.”
“Sure,” said Elder Benjamin. “Here you go. Our number is in there.”
And get this … he actually lived in our area. I said, “Perhaps we’ll see you again?”
“Most definitely.”
As Elder Benjamin and I stood at the door, I turned and gave one last wave, and my friends waved back. The Presbyterian Elder stared at me in disbelief. I nodded at him and then we were off.
And you know what? He had never told us his name.
Elder Benjamin and I went straight home. We both showered and then relaxed in our yo’s.
As both of us lay on our backs, Elder Benjamin said to me, “You know, Elder Elder. These last few days were most interesting. It was like we had experienced an entire lifetime — a microcosmos. We had friends, we watched over each other, we discussed God, and we gave each other joy. Leaving that place was like dying from that small life — moving on to the next world, leaving our friends behind, and blessing them in their own lives. I shall miss them, and will always remember them.”
“Me too, Elder Benjamin. Me too.”
