Doctor, Doctor, Gimme the News

February 17th, 2010
Hong Kong


Following a week of serious overeating, unrelenting jetlag and too many Tsing Taos to mention, it was time for a health check up. I was actually feeling pretty good thanks to the combo of walking Hong Kong's hilly landscape and the outstanding spa at our hotel. I don't remember a time when I willingly got up at 7AM, let alone got up at 7AM to swim laps. The old Sheung Wan area of HK houses a long row of Chinese medicine shops (adjacent to vendors touting exotic dried creatures of the sea. Did you know that scallops turn orange when they are dried? Now you do.). Lonely Planet recommended one of these shops that has doctors on site to diagnose your ailments and write a prescription to cure them. My walk in appointment went something like this:

ME: “I get headaches and have a weak stomach.”
DR: “Show me wrist.”
I handed over my wrist.
DR: “Pulse Weak. Show tongue.”
I stuck out my tongue, remembering that I have a giant permanent gash in the middle of it from an accident with my former tongue ring and biting into a pork chop the wrong way.
DR: “Hmph. Do you have thirst?”
ME: “Not chronic, why?”
DR: “You have no problem with appetite. Maybe eat too much.” (Now he was beginning to get somewhere. It was like he knew me.) “ Spicy food no good for you. Take this tea 2 times and you will never have headache again.” Considering I've had a headache of some form almost every day for 20 years, the doc had just dished out a tall order.

And with that, he wrote me a prescription that I'm sure included dried toad skin and deer testicle, among other things. We all handed the chemist our scrips and were told to return in an hour for the meds.

In keeping with the healthy theme of the day, the best way to pass the time while our prescriptions were being filled seemed obvious: foot reflexology. HK is almost polluted with neon signs of feet, so we picked what seemed to be the most reputable foot joint in the neighborhood (meaning they had the biggest sign and several floors of an office building). Lucky for us, they had a private room for 4 at the ready. Unlucky for us, the air conditioner was blasting (HK was freezing and I was not dressed properly) and my foot masseuse had ice cold bony little hands. I knew I was not exactly in for a treat.

So dug in they did, and quite literally. We suffered through 50 excruciating minutes of foot torture. Knuckles were ground into my heel, thumbs pinching my toes, too much pressure releasing what must have been gallons of toxins considering the extreme pain they caused on their way out. At one point the pain was so bad I got nauseous and almost puked. Once it was over, though, I felt like I was walking on pillows. My sinuses were clear and I was ready to go take my medicine.

What the doctor ordered, exactly, I can't tell you. It was written in some ancient form of medical Cantonese. What I can tell you is that it was not two asprin and a bowl of chicken soup. Instead, out of the thermos was poured a thick murky dark brown brew, almost the color of Guinness but with none of the appeal. It was piping hot, and tasted like I was drinking a mix of sewage water and leather tanning chemicals. They gave us these candies to ease the intake process which barely helped us gulp the tonics down. I was sick to my stomach for the next 2 hours. Gio almost thew up. Veronica got an instant headache. Michelle, who was actually sick with flu like symptoms, felt instantly better. Maybe that's the ticket – go see these guys when you're actually under the weather.

We all got a dose of goods to take away, said to be drank the next day. While the prospect of never having a headache again was intriguing, I was filled with relief when one of the teas spilled and we were forced to toss them. A hot toddie and two lychee martinis was my prescription for eradicating the muck taste from my mouth. Sometimes, self medication works wonders.

The next day, as I was walking around Saigon in the blazing heat, I was hit with a crippling headache.