Country Doc (on doctor visits of rural Taiwan)

   Since Chris and I live in a rural part of Taiwan there are certain standards that don't apply here like they would in the city.  There is a laid back in the country, anything goes-like atmosphere around here.  Drivers around here are crazier (I don't kid when I say crazy), dentists like I mentioned in a previous post are not quite the same.  There are many old men that casually walk around with their shirt pulled up over their bulging bellies to cool themselves.  A surprising number of people commute around town in what looks like a sort of motorized power chair. More than once I've driven down the street and passed an old lady on one of these power chairs going achingly slow through the scooter lane.  My point is that there are a lot of interesting and a lot of times funny things that you can encounter in this country setting of Taiwan.
   One of the things that Chris and I have gotten used to is the country doctor that we've been seeing whenever we have some sort of an ailment.  He's a great doctor that speaks excellent English because he practiced in Canada for ten years.  Though he carried over the language, it's obvious that he didn't carry over the Canadian practice.  He has throughly embraced the laid back country environment by fitting the description of a doctor that you may find in the countryside. 
   Recently,I just got over a bout of some serious bronchitis that was on the cusp of pneumonia.  Back at home I hate going to the doctor because it's so expensive even with health insurance, but here I figured I have good health insurance so I went to the doctor.  He put me on a course of antibiotics and I went back to visit him a few more times for some IV injections to boost my immunity and also some antibiotic shots in the arm. 
If I recall correctly, doctor offices at home have sinks in every room.  I remember that the patient's bed is always covered with disposable sheets of paper for sanitary reasons.  I remember numerous bottles of hand sanitizers placed conveniently everywhere and color coded plastic bins sticker marked with intimidating words like "hazardous waste".  I also remember lots and lots of disposable gloves that were used by the nurses and doctors all the time.
   At this office there are no such things.  No sinks, hand sanitizers, gloves, etc.  If there are such things as gloves or hand sanitizers they are probably tucked away in some cabinet yellowing from old age.  The waste basket that they discard papers in is the same waste basket they throw bloody gauze and used syringes in (no stickers). The nurse that shot me up each time with antibiotics or injected me with an IV would do so right after handling the jolly, overweight man soaked in sweat, wiping up his blood with a cotton ball with her gloveless hands (don't worry I'm sure the cotton ball is soaked in a bit of alcohol).   Thinking back, it makes me feel like maybe the doctor offices back at home are eerily germ phobic or maybe I'm just getting used to it all. 
   Last week, Chris decided that since we planned on a surfless road trip for a week it would be a good time to get the mole he'd been meaning to get removed off of his stomach.  It irritated him every time he surfed and he had inquired about getting it removed back in the States but the thieves at the doctor office told him it would cost him a minimum of two hundred dollars (price quoted over the phone, which means it would cost much more).  I should also mention that he had health insurance back at home that he paid a hefty monthly sum for but of course, "insurance doesn't cover it". 
Anyway, we went to the country doc and asked him if he had the means to remove the mole.
   He says, "Do you want to remove it now?"
   This took us by surprise, "Right now? How long will it take?"
   "Oh, not long maybe five minutes."
This exchange should have raised some suspicions.  It was our understanding that the process wasn't as easy as five minutes and that it wasn't as simple a process as he made it seem... but he's a doctor, right?
So, Chris agreed and in a couple of moments Chris was lying on the patient's bed that probably has never seen a disposable paper covering in it's obviously long life.  Oh yeah, and our doctor is also a seasoned acupuncturist so when Chris complained about a little neck pain, he stuck a few needles in his arm and then told him to lie down for his mole removal.  The needles were causing him quite a bit of discomfort because they were hitting his nerves and numbing his arm.  When Chris asked if it was okay to leave the needles in the doctor replied, "Of course, don't worry about it." So I sat and watched Chris visibly uncomfortable, laying down, the both of us not really knowing what to expect.  Then the doctor disappeared and then reappeared with a strange little box.
I will do my best to sound like I am not exaggerating but you may not believe me still.  The box that he appeared with looked like an old welding machine possibly from the 1950's or 60's.  It had two knobs and a light bulb and it was mostly blue with rust stains all over.  There were three long skinny wires that looked like they were from an old torture film used to experiment on human brains by manipulating it with electrical currents.  I'm serious.
He set the box down and then took out a white cloth/rag and unfolded it.  Not so neatly placed side by side were about six or seven small and skinny instruments that reminded me of a soldering iron.
He then took out a big needle to anesthetize the operation zone, again no gloves and no sign of recent hand washing.  He asked if Chris could feel anything around the area and then proceeded to turn on the machine.  By this time Chris was looking a little nervous.  We kept exchanging secretive, weird looks, our eyes said, "Wait, is he serious? He's going to use that the thing?"  I couldn't help but think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea and that maybe it wasn't quite as sanitary as may be needed.  It all seemed weird and outdated to say the least.  Chris's eyes looked at me as if to say, "Do you think this is going to be okay?" I didn't want to freak him out and tell him what I thought so I just convinced myself that it was completely normal and then gave him a reassuring smile.
The doctor turned one of the knobs and commented, "This is low power."  He attached one of the thin looking instruments to one of the wires, it had a thin metal loop at the end of it.  He then used the metal loop to literally burn off a layer of skin from the mole.  I say burn off because there was smoke coming from his mole and the machine. It also smelled like burning flesh.  After removing the first layer of skin, the good old doctor, with his gloveless, unwashed hands carefully picked at the metal loop to take off the discarded skin.  Like he was picking hair off of a hairbrush .  It was bizarre.  Then his next comment was, "Okay, strong power," then he turned the knob all the way and cauterized the rest of the mole.  Then he was finished.  He proceeded to tell Chris how to treat the wound but as he was talking he carelessly allowed one of the wires to be conveniently placed right over Chris's fresh, new wound.  He didn't notice so I walked up and pointedly removed the wire off.  It was obviously no big deal, just me being a paranoid American. 
On our way out, Chris asked him how much it would have hurt if he didn't use the anesthetic.  The doctor chuckled and replied, "It would be like the Germans in movies..."
"Torture?"
"Yes!"
Well, at least he used the anesthetic.

It's been past a week and the wound is healing just fine.  The doctor did know what he was doing after all.  It's times like these when I am amazed... dare I say proud? At how well we have been able to adapt and embrace our surroundings.