Sick in Kyoto

We took a summer break! This post is from July 7, 2025. It’s been tough to get anything done this past week as I’ve been stuck in my dorm with a nasty cold. Maybe it was the sudden changes in weather (rainy one day, hot the next) or maybe it was because I would sleep with my wet hair under the AC, but either way, it was really bad.

I’m usually the type to recover after about 2 days, so when I first felt a sore throat coming on, I didn’t think much of it, I even went swimming at Lake Biwako to celebrate my birthday. I probably should have actually stayed in my room and rested though.

The next day, after swimming, my symptoms got worse. My throat was so sore I couldn’t speak, I had a fever, nausea, a cough, and almost no energy. I ended up skipping most of my classes for the week except for one. That one class had a midterm, and even though I could’ve emailed the professor to reschedule, I just wanted to get it over with. So, I dragged myself out of bed, took the test, somehow got back to my room and fell asleep.

For the rest of the week, I stayed in my room, taking Tylenol that a friend gave me, sipping warm tea, and trying to take it easy. Thankfully, I didn’t have too much homework to worry about, so I could focus on getting better without stressing too much.

But after a few more days, things actually got worse. I ended up getting pink eye, too. At that point, I figured rest and Tylenol weren’t enough, so I decided to visit a clinic.

I searched for English-friendly clinics in Kyoto and found one called Sakabe Clinic. It had nearly five stars and over 100 reviews from international patients, so I decided to give it a try. The clinic is about a 20-minute bus ride from my dorm, and when I arrived, I found out it was actually an international clinic.

They normally see walk-in patients in the evening (6:30 pm-12 am) and appointments during the day (9:30 am–12:30 pm), though it’s best to check their website for up-to-date hours. I didn’t have an appointment or a Japanese phone number to call and schedule one, so I went in person and was able to schedule a same-day appointment for 12:20 pm. All I needed was my passport and to write down my name.

When I returned later for the appointment, I filled out a simple form about my symptoms, how long I’d been sick, what medicine I’d taken, and so on. I was surprised by how simple the questions were and how little questions I had to answer compared to back home in the America.

After turning in the form, I had my temperature taken and waited to be called. It seemed like only one doctor was working, but I didn’t mind waiting as I wasn’t sure where else to go anyway. Eventually, I was brought into a room where they took my blood pressure before I met the doctor.

That actually surprised me since usually back home has a lot of tests first, but my Japanese friend who was also sick around the time I was said they usually don’t even take blood pressure during checkups. Soon after, the doctor reviewed my form and told me I could have one of three possible illnesses—one of which might have been COVID (but I figured it wasn’t, since I could still taste food).

The doctor did a nasal swab test and checked my heartbeat, which is something I’m used to—but this time, it was done under my shirt. While it wasn’t invasive, but it made me feel a bit uncomfortable. Thankfully, there was a female nurse present, which helped a little, but it still felt awkward.

After the check-up, I waited for my results. The doctor told me I didn’t have any of the three viruses he suspected but gave me a prescription with five different medications, each targeting certain symptoms.

Thanks to having health insurance in Japan, I only paid about 3,600 yen for the visit. The pharmacy next door charged me about 1,000 yen for the medications—so in total, I spent less than $40. I’ve been taking the medicine for a few days now and feel so much better, though I’m still dealing with a bit of a stubborn cough.

Getting sick while studying abroad definitely isn’t fun, but I’m grateful there were resources available, and that I was able to get help without too much trouble. Hopefully, I’ll be fully recovered soon and back to exploring Kyoto again!

Grief at a Distance

We took a summer break! This post is from July 4, 2025. Hey everybody, very sorry for the late/delayed posts. Life has been very hectic recently, but I will post a bunch of posts back to back this time.

As you can probably guess from this title, I recently experienced a loss while in Japan. 

This Father’s Day, my great grandmother Judy–or Grandma Duck Duck, as we so fondly called her–passed away. She was 89 years old, only a month short of her 90th birthday. Not only am I not home, but I am thousands of miles away from it. This morning, I attended her funeral via zoom call. As my family said their goodbyes and mourned in solidarity with one another, I was watching on my bed, alone, only the blackness of the 3 A.M. sky keeping me company. 

It is hard to continue with life as normal, yet I also feel as though nothing has changed. 

Grieving at a distance is idiosyncratic; my heart and my mind know I have lost someone but my body and my time don’t seem to care. 

Loss is something that is obviously very difficult. It cuts deep, encompassing every bone and crevice in your body. But the fact that it happened while I was abroad has made this process of grieving and healing so much more difficult. I can’t uproot my life to give myself time to mourn Duck Duck; even if I wanted to. I had a test, a group project, and choir rehearsals all on the day she died. Grief is not an excuse to miss your commitments, they say.

I haven’t even cried yet. Obviously, tears are not a necessity for someone to grieve, and that does not mean that I don’t love her. I loved my Duck Duck so much; instead of sadness, I feel numbness. It feels like this huge prank has been pulled on me and I am just waiting for Ashton Kutcher to jump out and yell “You just got PUNK’D!”. But Kutcher never comes, and I am left alone with the reality that my beautiful, lovely Duck Duck is gone. 

There is a James Patterson quote I feel resonates with me at the moment:

“The weird, weird thing about devastating loss is that life actually goes on. When you’re faced with a tragedy, a loss so huge that you have no idea how you can live through it, somehow, the world keeps turning, the seconds keep ticking.”

Even though my world seems to be flipped on its axis, it still keeps spinning. The world does not stop for my grief, even though I really, really want it to. Despite my desire to bedrot and ignore the world for a week, the world is too busy turning to notice or care that I am gone. I can not simply stop living my life in the shadow of grief of someone I once loved, but I also deserve the space to mourn her in the way that I need. 

It has been difficult managing these feelings while being so separated from the source of them. It’s hard, but a much needed, albeit brutal, punch in the face from reality that the world does not stop for me, even if I wanted it to. As unfortunate at it is, Duck Duck is only the beginning of many deaths in my life when I will be away from home, and what better time than now, when I have absolutely no one in my family around me, to develop the coping mechanisms necessary for dealing with loss without perspiring into a pool of uncontainable sorrow. 

Being abroad while struggling with the death of a loved one has not been an ideal experience – neither is being anywhere and being faced with death – but I am thankful for the opportunity to mature, even though it came at the expense of the loss of life. 

I will miss you Duck Duck, and I do miss you, and I will carry your legacy through me. 

Your chickadee forever.