I was at a local clinic today for some elbow rehab. It’s a fascinating place, mostly frequented by elderly who pop in for treatment for the aches and pains of aging, in a communal treatment room full of benches and machines that are showing their own signs of age.
Other than a few kids with limps and bruises, many (of the older) patients seem to be regulars, which gives the place the feel of a community centre. There are lots of little chats going on in the waiting room and treatment area. “How’s the knee?” “They still haven’t fixed the clock.” “I used to love her songs.” So many snippets to eavesdrop on.
The exceptions are the new patients, like me, who sit there quietly, as happens in most waiting rooms I’ve experienced in Japan.
On this visit (my third), however, I think I might have moved beyond the clinic version of a “park debut”: the thing that happens when parents with small kids go to a new park where the other parents seem to form an impenetrable clique.
It started with one of the regulars commenting on how much I was sweating. The high is 37 today. I’m from Dartmoor. It was like a torrent.
That was the springboard for a lovely chat with a couple of older ladies. We started with the weather, pivoted to where I was from and what’s wrong with my arm, and then ended with an unexpected twist; one of them suddenly switched into English to tell me about a song she’s been learning called Have You Ever Seen the Rain.
Then I was off to be prodded and stretched. And that’s the post. No takeaway or insight. Other than that I actually enjoyed a doctor’s visit.