But even a bad conscious may allow to get good x-ray images, as I find (anyway, bad conscious is not detectable by x-rays and does not hide away in the leg, as far as I know). For just after the x-raying our electrician hastens there and back between the various rooms while I am waiting together with my driver on the corridor, fixed and immobile. From every room we hear his talking and laughing together with the x-ray guys, and finally he waves a huge envelope at us into which the images are wrapped.
My x-ray images and myself are then returned to the chief physician, Dr. Da Song. However, it is just his lunch break – no problem for my electrician. He knocks at Da Song’s office door behind which the chief physician probably currently rests his head on his desk and takes a nap. This is a popular way of sitting in China’s offices during lunch break – a position in which I could hardly sleep for a second, but Chinese people can do it for hours.
The chief physician emerges with somewhat sleepy eyes, as expected, but not at all angry because of us disturbing his lunchtime break. We meet in that huge consulting room where we had started earlier today.
He explains to me slowly and patiently (because of my limited handling of Chinese) that my bone had not been injured but that there was a severe haematoma. And that there were two possibilities between which I might decide: either I could get a small operation including two or three days of staying in the hospital, or I could wait till the swelling vanished by itself, which of course would take longer.
I decide for the slower way because I would not want to remain lying in that hospital.… just insecurity (because I probably did not understand everything) and just prejudice. So the consultation is finished, but now it is the nurses’ turn. They talk at me, for after all, it does not happen very often that a foreigner drops in here, and with the popular electrician as his hospital guide and with the foreigner talking a little bit of Chinese as well, they may just talk to him. I tell about Germany, and everyone wants to get invited there. So we have much opportunity to laugh.
The chief physician, Da Song, the electrician, and my driver meanwhile discuss my case in detail. I do not understand anything for the discussion is a) too fast b) in Cantonese and c) drowned in the nurses’ chatter. But in the end I grasp just that far that initially, Chinese remedies should be applied to me.
Then we drive back. On the way home I learn (slowly, because of my limited Chinese) that this friend is not just any simple electrician but a kind of Electricians’ Manager and more than that: Somehow he is also engaged in the trainee programme for new staff of any kind, but that part I do not understand exactly. Anyway, he knows almost everyone in the hospital, from the guard of the parking place to the chief physician, and he seems to have done at least one favour to everyone there, for everywhere he is heartily welcomed; and his attitude is not demanding but very friendly and comradely.
During my next stay in Germany my familiar sports physician will confirm the diagnosis and also tell me that while I was in China it would have been recommendable (for the blood in the huge blister was still solid) to make an “erasion” that involved a considerable section, and a stay in hospital; but now, four weeks later, the filling substance had sufficiently liquefied – turned paste-like or like a gel – that an erasion was no longer necessary, but a squeezing through a minor section would do.
I will decide to get this done in Germany, being relieved that in China I got the proper diagnosis after all. The “squeezing” will turn out to be not comfortable but tolerable (though much less entertaining than the examinations in China).
I am tempted soon to offer a beer to the opposing striker who is still tormented by his bad conscious, because of the experiences his assault had provided me with. Without his awkward kick I would never have met this electrician/trainer-friend of my driver nor the chief physician, Da Song, who in his village is called Xiao Song, and all the curious tale of what happened in the hospital and especially in the x-ray department I would have missed. How much I gained from this injury!
But then, is it wise to offer beer to an opponent who inflicted upon you a severe injury? Could that not be mistaken as an invitation to do it again? Ah, I have to consider that …
We do not yet return to my apartment but (after visiting a pharmacy) to Fang ShiFu’s apartment. He applies the remedies that we bought before and rubs them into my extremity while his wife cooks a meal and his little son entertains me with his toys.
We eat together. I try to convince his son that he should eat a bit of vegetable for it is really healthy. (“No, it’s not good!” – “Yes, it’s healthy, give it a try!” – “No, this isn’t good food!” – “How do you know if you didn’t try?” – “It’s not good!” At this the dispute ends) This was very funny. Just my leg does not make me laugh again yet.