Get physical

As part of the application process for an employment visa, all foreigners in China have to have a medical examination. I had mine on Monday.

Imagine getting a physical at the DMV.

After filling out dozens of forms asking if I suffered such conditions as “psycho-mental dysphoria” (I checked “no”), I was shuffled into a changing room and handed a clip board. I stripped down, put on a robe and blue booties. I was weighed, measured and ordered: “Room 110.”

In Room 110 I was greeted by a dour Chinese Nurse Ratchet wielding a syringe. “Roll up your sleeve. Make a fist.” As an adult I’d largely lost my fear of needles – Nurse Ratchet helped me find it. She jabbed my arm with all the loving tenderness of a spear fisherman.

She scribbled on my form and handed the clipboard back to me. “Next room!”

In the following series of rooms I had a chest x-ray, EKG, eye exam and ultrasound. I didn’t know men had ultrasounds. It was unnerving to have jelly slathered on my abdomen and that weird, cold scanner pressed against me.

I asked the doctor, “Am I pregnant?” I thought this was hilarious.

He handed back the clipboard. “Next room!”

I got the results today. Everything checked out. I even tested negative for “psycho-mental dysphoria.” I have to go across the river to Pudong on Monday for the final stage of residency approval. I don’t know what to expect. Obstacle course? Cat juggling? Telekinetic bingo?

Hopefully this time – no needles.


(Yes Torr, I know the sign is from San Francisco, but I'm willing to sacrifice journalistic accuracy for the perfect kitschy photo.)