The Japanese government is very concerned with the wellbeing of their citizens and residents. Some time in April, every household receives invitations for various health checks, most screenings for cancer. These are generally offered at very cheap prices, usually around 2000 yen or even less. If you happen to be of a “certain” age, you even get a free coupon.
Last year, I turned 50 (yes, I’m officially old now), the “certain” age where you’re eligible for a free stomach cancer screening. At first, I didn’t want to go: it involves swallowing a gastric camera, and since I have a very strong gag reflex (ask my dentist), it’s not something I’d volunteer for. Technically, there is the possibility of asking for an anaesthetic to knock you out temporarily, but I don’t know if this is an option in Japan – or how to ask for it. So, I let it sit.
That is, until my doctor told me about the barium solution option and painted the examination in a light that I could not refuse. So, early last month, I had an appointment that led me all the way to Yamashina in the outskirts of Kyoto.
The examination was not at a hospital, but in a bus parked at the ward office. Somewhere in the building, two forlorn looking clerks helped me fill out the required questionnaire (too many kanji, still) and let me to the bus. There, I was asked to exchange my jeans for some jogging pants in ugly green.
Next: the barium. First, I had to take some granules that quite pleasantly reminded me of popping candy. Then, the barium meal, white, tasteless – and very heavy, literally: The paper cup I had to empty weighed as much as metal, I was quite surprised. I was cautioned to keep it down because when you throw up, the stomach constricts, and it defeats the purpose of the examination.
Finally, the fun part I was coming for. I was led to a kind of table that could move in many directions. First, I had to turn around myself three times, probably to make sure the barium meal could coat the entire stomach. From then, the operator did the rest: the table moved left, right, horizontally, I even stood on my head once. Every now and then I had to hold my breath for an X-ray image, but that was the extent of my involvement in the procedure.
When I was finished and dressed again, I received a bottle of water and some laxatives – apparently, the barium solution couldn’t come out naturally again? – with instructions to take two pills right away and “if nothing happens in the next 6 hours, take the other four”. I’ll spare you the details.
The experience lived up to my expectations, it was just as much fun as my doctor promised when he said “this is perfect for you!” Sadly, I couldn’t see the technician’s point of view; according to my doctor, “he can see the liquid sloshing around…” I didn’t even feel any sloshing, so that’s the one slight disappointment here.
The aftermath was swift and happened roughly three weeks after the exam. I received a little postcard (see the image) which, in terse language explained that
- Congratulations, you’re fine.
- This is the current state of your health and not indicative of the future, so
- please have this test regularly once every two years from now on.
So it seems I might have more chances to observe the sloshing myself, perhaps?