Sexy Japanese Female Nurses? Schizophrenics and Jail Breaks! - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 3

(Part two of this series is here: I Was an English Teacher in a Japanese Insane Asylum - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 2 (Life in D-40))


I was transferred to D-41 early in the morning and made it there just before breakfast. The orientation for D-41 was very short as most of the rules were the same as D-40. I was so relieved to be away from Tanaka and his incessant pestering me about teaching him English.

Posing at D-41 in order to case the joint...

I walked into D-41 with the purpose of getting a feel for the layout of the joint. That sounds like I was cool and tough, but it was more like I was a nervously shaking and shivering with fear chihuahua dog frightened out of half his piss  looking for a place where he could stand where people wouldn't kick him so much. D-41 was much larger that D-40 and had many more patients than D-40 did. I looked for the hot chicks that I was told about and found them. They were two very plump middle-aged women in their late fifties. They looked like someone's kind old grandma. You know, the kind that likes to look at old photos of when we were little and bake stuff for us kids? These two ladies were very sweet to me during my stay at D-41 so you won't hear me saying anything bad about them. They were real sweethearts. As opposed to the white uniform worn by the males nurses, the female nurses wore pink with the typical nurses cap on top. They were cute... I mean, as far as old ladies go.

Slide shows of uncle Harry and baking sh*t and she's fine!

I took my clothes and personal belongings into my room where I was introduced to my three room-mates who didn't even bother to look up from their slumber. Nice guys. After that, I heard my name being called,


"Rogers san! Rogers san! Please report to the nurses station." I walked over to the nurses station past a couple of guys who were dancing in the hallway and one guy who, everyday, from morning until night-time, would march back and forth up the halls in a sort of military precision. He looked angry. I always tried to stay out of his way when he came by. He looked like he rather punch you than say "Hello!"


There was a group of twenty or so patients at the nurses station and they were all getting their daily dose of medicine. I got in line. When I walked to the front the nurse looked at me and, said, "Mr. Rogers? Right. Here is your medicine." She handed me a small paper cup with a few pills in it. I grabbed it and started walking off. One of the males nurses barked at me, "No! You have to take your medicine right here where we can see you!" I was taken aback. It wasn't necessary to be yelling at me like that! "Of course," I thought. I took the medicine and drank it down and then chased it with a cup of water.

If you don't cooperate, we may have to do a very 

thorough rectal examination, Mr. Rogers... Your call!

"Stick out your tongue!" The male nurse grumbled. I stuck my tongue out and got the feeling that, while D-41 might be better than D-40, this was not going to be a picnic. In D-40 there were some very sick individuals. Of course, there were sick folks in D-41 too but they weren't as bad as D-40. I also gathered that the male nurses were more sympathetic to the mental patients than the druggies. It made sense. The mental patients couldn't help being in the hospital, but the folks in drug rehab? They were total f*ckups. Completely and totally useless. And I was one of them. 


They were such washouts that they didn't deserve to be treated nicely or even with one iota of respect.


And you know what? That's right. They don't. Here's a hospital full of mentally ill people who should and would probably love to lead normal everyday lives but they can't. And, on the other side, guys like me, who had all they could possibly want going for them and they throw it away with chemical or alcohol abuse! Think about that! What a bunch of losers! Talk about spoiled brats in a consumerist society! What low-life scum! 


I realized this and pondered about it often. I also realized that I wasn't getting out of this place in the next few week, hell, next few months? I didn't know for how long I would be there, and I became depressed. I slumped over to sit by myself on the sofa and wondered how it was that my life had come to this? 

Sexy Japanese Nurse! Nothing to see here. Move along, folks. Move along...

Me? I had everything. A great job, a wonderful family, I made lots of money... What a worthless piece of sh*t I was! Think about it! My baby daughter had just spent nearly two years of her life in the hospital for incurable diseases and she  defeated a rare and deadly childhood cancer. You wouldn't know it to look at her. She was the happiest most positive kid you could ever hope to meet and was always smiling and bright. Me? Look at me. In pajamas and unkempt and unshaven in a mental asylum. I was in drug rehab and felt that I didn't have a friend in the world who would even talk to me... Excepting Tanaka in D-40, of course. He'd talk to me all I wanted as long as I traded him English lessons for it.


I was the lowest of the low. What a waste of a human life. Dejectedly, I sat on the sofa in the communal area. Just then a tall lanky Japanese kid of about 25 came up and stood next to me. He benevolently smiled at me for what seemed like 30 seconds. Then he leaned over and said,


"Excuse me, Are you a gaijin (foreigner)?"


"What?! Duh! Do I look like a foreigner?" I thought. But not wanting to make a fuss or bad feelings, I answered very politely. I smiled and said, "Yes, I am a foreigner." He smiled back and then looked down to his feet. He paused for a few seconds again, seemingly like he was collecting his thoughts, then he looked up to me again. He said,


"Excuse me, are you a gaijin?"

Author's self image at D-41

"Yes. I am a gaijin." I answered again. I looked down and my eyes grew wide. He stopped and pondered. I stopped and pondered. He shuffled his feet then he looked at me and said, 


"I was wondering if you are a gai-gai-gaijin?"


"Yes. Yes, I am a foreigner." I nervously responded. Beads of sweat began to form on my forehead. Was this guy the psychotic Japanese slasher who hated all foreigners and wanted them to die? Is this the guy who thinks, 'The only good foreigner is a dead foreigner?' He continued with urgency and panic became apparent in his voice; the volume growing by the second,


"Are you a ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-gai-gai-jin?" His stuttering became uncontrollable.  As he was trying to fight the stutter, he did it by raising his voice and made his face into grotesque twisted contortions. I didn't like that one bit because all the people around were dropping what they were doing and started staring right at us; and all I wanted to do was keep a low profile while I was in D-41. I didn't want to draw any unnecessary attention towards myself. His voice grew louder and louder... The stuttering became a scream!


"Are you a ga-ga-ga-GA-GA-GA- gainjin?"


"Yes!" I sqeeked like a little mouse.


The trumpets in my head were blaring! I put both hands over my ears and to cover my head! 


"Ga-ga-ga-ga-ga-GA-GA-GA-GA-GA-GAIJIN?" He warped his face into comical but frightening contortions (kind of like the singer of a punk band would do - they're all crazy too) as he nearly screamed at me. His fingers were pointing towards me yet they were all twisted up in every which direction like a sort of disheveled and broken Japanese Edward Scissorshands. 

I was trapped in a madhouse with insane people!!! I jumped from my chair and said as calmly as I could, without showing fear or panic on my face, "Excuse me, won't you? I'm not feeling well. I think I should go and have a lay down in my room. Pardon me, won't you?" not waiting for an answer I shot from that place and into the mad safety of my cot in my cubicle protected by the invisible walls of rules constructed by male nurses in white suits and ladies in pink suits and caps.


I had definitely fallen into a sort of Twilight Zone. I was an extra, with no escape, on the set of the movie One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest.


Oh the pain! I pulled the covers over my head and hid from the monsters lurking outside. I knew it! This time I had finally done it. I had f*cked up REALLY big time this time and there would be no mommy or daddy or anyone to save my ass. I was doomed. 


Later on, I'd ask my doctor about what had happened and he told me not to worry. He said there were a very many schizophrenic patients there and that most of them couldn't remember what had just transpired a few seconds before hand. He told me not to worry about seeming like I was rude because that guy probably doesn't remember it all all. Wow! A forgiving guy!


Oh, if only supposed sane people could be so forgiving about minor transgressions within a few seconds in the outside world!


It was about this time that I think my body had basically flushed out all the chemicals and drugs that caused me to have bizarre delusions of grandeur and wild ideas. I could tell that I was getting back to normal.... Well, almost back to normal. Why? Because I started having a very wild imagination again.


In my mind, I kept seeing myself and this entire situation as a movie. Or perhaps, that was a survival mechanism for saving my sanity? I thought it best if I viewed this entire mess as some sort of twisted cinema that would someday win me the Academy Award for Best Script of the Year award. Here I was, the hero of the film, trapped in an insane asylum with a bunch of crazy people. Why was I here? Well, of course, it was all a mistake. I shouldn't have been put here in the first place. Just a little misunderstanding, you see. It would all become clearer and clearer why I shouldn't be there as time passed.... In the end, I get the girl....


Unfortunately, my imagination didn't matter to the masters of this sick experiment. They wanted torture and I knew that I had to get out of there before it was too late. "The evil ones are never satisfied," I thought.


I knew that I had to get free before, before... Well, before I became one of them! A few days before, one of the patients in D-40 had pulled me aside to whisper to me that the doctors of the entire hospital were completely insane. Of course, I didn't believe him at the time. But, when he told me the reasons for his thinking, I thought about it and it made sense. I couldn't argue with the logic.


He told me that all the doctors at the hospital were insane because all the patients were insane too and, it follows reason that it is impossible to stay sane when you are working with insane people all day. Even Nietzsche wrote:

“He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.”

I knew that if I stayed there too long, I'd become like 

my captors.... I'd become one of them!

Now, for me, the seed had been planted. I was beginning to suspect everyone's sanity at D-41; the patients, the doctors, the nurses (excepting the two nice grandma types); I even began suspecting the ladies in the cafeteria. Everyone was possibly stark raving mad at this place and, before I became like them, I had to escape. I had to plan a Great Escape.


Soon the theme song from the sixties cinema thriller starring Steve McQueen started running over and over in my head. And, it kept getting louder and louder as the hours went on. For the first four days in D-41 all I did was plan and consider different methods of escape. But how?

I kid you not! Planning my escape engulfed my first four days there. Sometimes the theme song of Great Escape would be playing so loud in my head I began to worry that other people might hear the music bleeding through my ears! And, if they heard me, they'd ruin my plans. Or I'd worry that I might be humming the tune so loud that a patient might recognize the song and report me to gestapo, er, I mean, nurse station.


This is where this particular episode really gets out there, folks. I investigated every way of escape: I sat and watched the delivery and cleaning people. I looked at what time and when these chores were performed. I had checked out where the deliveries came in, where the cleaning lady opened the door to take in and out her cleaning supplies. Could I have jumped in and hidden in the trash dumpster and been dumped out with the trash outside of the hospital? Or how about strapping myself to the underside of a delivery truck that would be driving out of the compound? Those seemed pretty tough to me. I also considered the possibility of a mad dash out the door... You know, fastest distance between two points and all that. 


I decided that the mad dash idea was no good because I found out that the nurses remove the shoelaces from every one's shoes. So, even if you got your shoes on and you got outside of the door, it's pretty hard to run a 100 meter  mad dash with no shoelaces on. Try it sometime and you'll see.


I also figured that idea was no good because if I were running around on the hospital grounds like a lost chicken asking for the exit, some doctors or nurses might see me and ask, "Excuse me, Mr. Rogers? Where do you think you're going?" And, if that happened, I know that would mean another week or two back into the cooler. No! I needed a better idea! I needed to use my American cunning! After all we did win the war against the Krauts and the Japs, right? I figured that I'd escape by outsmarting these guys.


That was it! Genius! I knew there was a reason that the theme song from Great Escape was playing over and over in my head! I decided that the best way out of D-41 was to dig a tunnel through the concrete floor, under my bed and out across the hospital grounds and into safety! Brilliant! 


I could see myself and the other patients chuckling as we lifted the escape on the other end of tunnel and dozens of us fleeing into the night on a daring midnight escape. Why, my picture would even be on the front page of every major newspaper and network in Japan. I'd be famous! My first's wife's parent's would see that and certainly say to my first wife, "See? I told you you shouldn't have married that crazy foreigner!"


I would be a star. Like Jessie James or Ronald Biggs....

"Last one out is a rotten egg!"

To make my plan work, I knew that I would need some dependable accomplishes and decided that I would start to ask around at the "talent pool." I decided that I needed to talk to just about everyone just to see if I could find out which ones were in the proper mental condition to want to break out of this joint with me.


I figured we could do it just like the in the movie: We'd set up some sort of pulley that would lift up my cot. Under the cot, would be the tunnel, covered by some well placed stuff. The tunnel would be dug during the afternoons when most of the nurses weren't around. Two guys would dig. One guy would be on lookout at the door of the room and two guys on lookout all up and down the hall.


Finding five guys who would be dependable and keep their mouths shut while we tunneled out of a mental hospital? No problem! There was also the problem of what t do about having dirt all over you when you were only allowed baths 3 times a week, but I figured we'd worry about that later.


Being a guy who is quite able to multi-task, I also decided that I would start to accumulate the tools we would need to dig out of the ward. I stomped on the floor of the hospital and it seemed pretty clear to me that the floors were your typical, tile covering one ~ two feet of concrete reinforced with steel mesh. It would take a lot to dig through that! I figured I'd need at least 4 or 5 teaspoons.


I'm not kidding. I really thought that.


At breakfast, lunch and dinner, the cafeteria gave each patient one spoon, one fork, one butter knife and one tray. When you were done with your food, you had to return the tray and utensils and the cafeteria ladies would check to make sure that there was nothing missing. 


From watching Hollywood movies you'd think they wouldn't give out butter knives but, at this hospital, they did. Though they were very strict with the utensils. It was simple; you were given the set, you were expected to return the full set. I knew that I would have to be sly in order to steal the tools that we'd need to tunnel through 2 feet of solid concrete: I knew I'd have to have quick hands if I were to steal the teaspoons we'd need for that back breaking job.


I knew that if I took the teaspoons from my tray, they'd notice them missing and then they'd probably call me to the nurse station for a debriefing. I could see it now, the gestapo nurse would be blaring a bright light into my face and demanding "Ze location of ze allied teaspoons!"


"I don't know! I don't know! And even if I did know, I'd never tell you!" I reply in exhaustion....


Come to think of it. Don't want that! Nope. I didn't want to draw attention to me, so I decided that I'd steal the teaspoons from other people's trays so the nurses would think they were the ones planning something. Pretty smart, eh?


So for the next three days, I stole five teaspoons from other patients trays. I overheard the cafeteria people talking with the nurses about the missing spoons and began to get nervous.


What if the doctors or nurses were to call a sudden inspection to locate the missing spoons? What if the doctors were to call a meeting with all the patients and demand that the person who stole the spoons give them back? What if some of the other patients saw me stealing the spoons?


Suddenly, I realized I had dangerous contraband hidden in my cot. If there were an unannounced inspection of our rooms and cots, then they would surely find the spoons and then I'd get grilled on the reasons for having the spoons.


I was in a now in a no-win situation. If I told them that I was planning on digging out of the hospital through underground tunnel using teaspoons instead of shovels, they'd surely think I was nuts and want to keep me there longer. If I didn't tell them about my plan, they'd think I was a Kleptomaniac with a teaspoon fetish and that would probably add another six months to a year on my internment.


No matter what, I told them, I knew that I was doomed. I had to do something to get rid of those spoons as soon as possible. 

The next part is here: Mr. Cool, Chocolate Addictions and a Paradox of Insanity in Today's World - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 4 http://modernmarketingjapan.blogspot.com/2012/02/mr-cool-chocolate-addictions-and.html

I Have the Flu. "Deadly" Hong Kong Type A. Booga Booga Panic!

The flu is out in Japan and the mass media and big pharma are doing their best to scare us all about this horrible new scourge! Oh my god! Some people have even died this time! Whatever shall we do? In fact, I now have the flu. My lips are bleeding and I have been coughing up blood....

Nah. Not really. But if I were that would make a great movie, eh? I just came back from the doctor and when I told them that I think I have the flu, they all stood at attention and put me in a different room from the other patients!


Wow! I didn't know I was so bad. I just thought I was tired and probably catching something. Didn't have a fever or anything either.


On Saturday I started feeling very tired. I took a few naps that lasted for 3 hours. That's quite unusual for me. I haven't been drinking any alcohol and been on the Raw Food Diet since Jan. 6. I plan on losing weight this year and getting down to the same weight I was when I was 25. I figure that I can do that in six months, no problem. I've done it before!


It's actually quite easy to do, really. With the Raw Food Diet, you don't eat any cooked foods so of course it eliminates breads, pastas and rice... Oh and fermented grains like booze. Of course booz is a no-no. 


The Raw Food Diet is a great diet that I recommend to anyone because you don't have to suffer; you can eat all you want! Just as long as it fresh fruits and veggies that you are munching on.


I've done this diet before and, when I did, even though everyone around me got sick or the flu, I didn't.  But, darn it, looks like this time I did. I don't feel so bad, just a cough sometimes and a fever. I just came back from the doctor and he ordered me not to go outside and spread the flu to others. He said that I have to stay indoors for five days!? Can you believe that? Five days! 


At first, when I heard this, I wanted to go on a vacation somewhere or use the extra time to finish my blog stories about drug rehab, but darned if I'm just not exhausted all the time. I get up and do some work and 15 minutes later I feel like I'm about to pass out and I go back to sleep!


I'm sure that, had I not been on raw food, I'd have felt much worse; As eating cooked food tires your body out and your body needs energy to fight off colds. But, if this keeps up, I won't be doing anything but short posts like this.


Damn you flu virus!


The Daily Yomiuri reports: 


The number of flu-stricken patients reached about 1.11 million in the week ending last Friday, an increase of about 400,000 from the previous week, according to figures compiled by the health ministry. In the week starting Jan. 16, the number of patients suffering from influenza reported to the Health, Labor and Welfare Ministry from about 5,000 medical institutions was about triple that of a week earlier. The number of patients per medical institution during that period was 22.73 persons, up from 7.33 persons the week before, according to the ministry. 


Even so, this year I have a mild cases of the influenza, folks do not get flu shots for your babies and small children. They are not safe. This having a headache for a few days and not feeling well is a hell of a lot better than having a child with Autism.

People this age are the only people who should have flu shots

Here, below, the mass media tries to scare people because two ninety some year old folks died from complications associated with the flu. Why is this news?

It used to be that catching the flu, while a serious sickness, did call for patients to be quarantined. I was. Chuckle!


If I can live to be 90-years-old and then get offed by the flu virus, I'd consider that a pretty good deal.

I Was an English Teacher in a Japanese Insane Asylum - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 2 (Life in D-40)

I should have entitled this blog post, "I was a Teenage Monster English Teacher in a Japanese Insane Asylum..." But, nah. That would have sounded like I was teaching at public school.

(This is part two of a series about my experiences in drug rehab in Japan. To read the first part, please refer to: Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 1 (Life in the Cooler) Upon Arrival to Rehab Everyone Must Detox in the Feared Cooler.)


Lots of good folks teach English is Japan. I did too many years ago. I did it during the heyday of the bubble when English teachers were earning $50,000 (USD) a year doing that job.


Not only have I taught English to kids, businessmen and office workers. I have taught English at insane asylums. There's not too many English teachers in Japan who can make that claim. 


.......

Maybe thirty minutes or an hour or so after the doctors left my padded cell, three males nurses came in to see me. Two of them were carrying hard rubber batons and standing. Even though they towered over me, they were not in a threatening position or stance at all. The one in the middle crouched down to me and said very kindly, 

"Mike san! We are going to take you to D-40 now; the ward with the other patients. Now, like the doctor told you, if you fight or cause trouble, we'll have to put you back in here. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I understand. I won't cause any trouble."

The two male nurses with the rubber batons helped me up from my seated position as it was difficult to stand since my legs were numb form all that  sitting or laying down the entire time I was there in the cooler. Then, arms under both my shoulders, they helped me stagger out of the cooler. My wife would tell me later on that I was in the cooler for a total of four days. I have repeated in this blog every recollection of my time there.

We exited the cooler and I could see that there were two other coolers next to mine. I could see into them but couldn't see any other patients. 

The walk to D-40 was a very short one. In fact, it was just up the hallway, perhaps not 10 meters. There was a glass sliding door like you'd see in front of a shower room and there we stopped for a second. The nurse repeated, "Now, don't cause trouble or we'll have to take you back to the cooler. You don't want to go back to the cooler, do you?"


"No!" I mumbled.


They opened the door. After days in the cooler, it was like a window into another world. I was standing in a black and white world and, across the threshold was a world in color. There I saw several people walking around and talking. There was a TV set on in the distance and several men were watching it. A group of other men were huddled by the window smoking cigarettes. A cleaning lady was mopping the floor. I took it all in. Humanity! Civilization!

THX exited the tunnel and came out into the natural world above ground

Have you ever seen that movie, THX1138 when, at the end of the movie, THX1138 escapes from the underground city and exits through a massive tunnel up to the surface world? Underground, There is no emotion; the civilization created by man is cold and everything is white and black. It is a suffocating environment. But when THX exits the tunnel, the bright sun is there and all the colors of nature. Birds fly by. You get the feeling that THX is Adam of the Old Testament's Genesis.


That's how I felt. I had just come from a place that was completely white and deadly silent with no life at all and just on the opposite side of a door not a skip from where I being held, life was buzzing. I was awestruck how these two seemingly totally opposite places could be so close together. When they told me that I'd go a ward called D-40, I expected a ten minute walk, through several locked gates and up and down stairs, more hallways and through guard posts. But no! It wasn't an 8 second walk.


I was back with normal people and others like me who had a drug or alcohol problem. I was back with people who I thought I could talk to and relate to.... 


Normal people, right? Normal people...or so I thought.

Soon after, my doctor and some nurses came to see me and they gave me orientation. They explained everything about Matsuzawa hospital and the ward, D-40, that was to be my home for the foreseeable future. They told me the rules for eating, socializing, cleaning up duty, everything. I was totally blown away when the doctor mentioned that "drug and alcohol rehabilitation patients are here together with patients who are suffering from schizophrenia and other mental disorders." I made a double-take. "What, doctor?" He confirmed what I thought I had heard. 


Now that scared me to death. I was thinking of that Stanley Kubrick movie the  Shining where Jack Nicholson chops his way through the door and yells, "Here's Johnny!" I almost peed my pants.


"Schizophrenic people? Crazy people*? Doc, you're kidding, right?" I knew lots of crazy people back home in Los Angeles, some of them were my friends and they were the scariest people you could know. But the doctor reassured me that it was alright. (*I was probably the craziest one there.)


"There are no violent people in this ward. Don't worry. Just mind your own business and follow the rules and everything will be fine." He said as he wrote something down on a clipboard.

I was relieved, sort of. It was better than the worst case scenario that I had envisioned. In my mind I had feared something like you see in American prison movies. You know, the new guy comes into the prison and every single prisoner suddenly stops what they are doing and silently stare at the new prisoner. Some want to kick the new boys a*s, others want him to be their sex toy; still some others want him to join their skinhead gang... But first, of course, he has to prove his worth by killing somebody. You know how in America different gangs are always joining up with each other to fight it out for territory, even in prison? That's what I feared. But it was nothing like that. No one seemed to care that the door had opened and someone new came in. They were all preoccupied with whatever it was they were doing.  


Besides the sound of the TV and people talking and smoking in the distance the only other movement was the cleaning lady. I surveyed the scene and thought, "Oh? This looks alright." Then, I looked to my right and there he was. Standing there was the guy who was going to make my life miserable in D-40. I would find out later that his name was Tanaka (not his real name). 


Tanaka wasn't a particularly big guy. He just looked like your typical Japanese salaryman. He didn't wear any glasses and he didn't smile. Actually, he looked like he was scowling all the time or that he was unhappy. I thought I could tell by his face that he was plotting something. But what?... Or was I being paranoid?

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Tanaka stood there, expressionless and stared at me. He didn't move. He just stared. I tried to act like I didn't see him and, looked right through him. As the nurses were taking me to the shower area, I sneaked a look back over my shoulder and saw Tanaka following us and staring straight at me, stone faced and not blinking. 


My heart and mood sank. Tanaka took a great interest in what I was doing. "I knew it! I just knew it!" I thought. What it was that I knew wasn't too clear to me at the time, but I was convinced that this Tanaka guy was going to make me very uncomfortable. Hell, he was making me extremely uncomfortable just by staring at me. I decided that I'd best ignore the guy... If I could.


D-40 wasn't an especially large area. There were about 40 inmates there, er, I mean 40 patients. It was a dormitory type of setup; the was a central nurse's station where patients were given roll call and daily drugs were administered to the patients. There was also a large living room area that could comfortably seat 25 men with a TV (that was constantly on) and that the patients sometimes fought over which channels to watch. If there ever was a Tokyo Giants baseball game on then the two 66-year-old guys got to watch that and no one argued with them.


That was a funny side note about those two old guys; they were like brothers. In the mornings or afternoon, they'd be fighting like little kids (they were like little kids as they had been interned since they were sixteen so they had no chance to grow mentally). Nearly everyday we could hear them fighting about this or that and really getting seemingly angry (well, as angry as old Japanese people do). But by the time the game was on air at night time, they'd be sitting side by side in front of the TV watching their favorite team, the Giants, play baseball... Just like kids. Just like brothers.


Besides the TV area there was a smoking area. This might strike westerners as unusual but, in Japan it is not. Whereas in the west, rehabilitation services might try to replace and addiction to alcohol or drugs with an addiction to god, Japan, a non-Christian nation, had no qualms about replacing drugs abuse with, well, drug abuse; namely tobacco.


I asked a doctor about this seeming contradiction once and he said to me, "Well, both smoking cigarettes and do drugs are bad for your health. But smoking cigarettes won't land you in prison." Most definitely. "Can't argue with that logic," I thought.


Aside from the smoking areas and the living room was a small cafeteria. It was just like a school cafeteria excepting each patient had an assigned seat and it was forbidden for them to move their chairs. I had the scariest looking Yakuza guy sitting in front of me. I called him "Mr. Halloween." He terrified me. He had tattoos all over him and was extremely tall and lanky like a human skeleton. The other patients seemed to be afraid of him too. He'd bark out someone's name and they'd immediately hand him all their bread every morning and he'd take it all back to his room and eat it. By the end of breakfast, Mr. Halloween would have a mountain of white bread on his tray. It seemed strange that this guy could be eating a whole loaf of bread everyday yet be skinnier than a rail! He was even more frightening when he smiled as he had lost all of his teeth excepting two and I guess that was from huffing paint thinner.


He looked at me and then looked at my bread and smiled and gave out a grunt. "Oh, sure. Here you go!" I handed my two slices of bread to him too. Like I said, for one, he scared the hell out of me and; for two, I hate white bread. It wasn't even toasted! Yeech! 


The guy wouldn't say much. Just bark out people's names. I never saw him hold a conversation but when he opened his mouth, I saw he terror of paint huffing. Huffing paint thinner will cause all your teeth to fall out. Even though everyone seemed afraid of him, he was very kind to me as, it has been my experience, that Yakuza in Japan are generally kind to foreigners. It might be the brotherly love of being an outsider in society. I was happy withe the situation and one time, when someone made a disparaging comment about foreigners at breakfast, he angrily turned around and barked at them and then he turned to me and smiled and, waving his hand, he said to me, 


"Ok! Don't mind! Don't mind!" I could see those crevices and holes in his teeth. Couple that along with his brightly colored tattoos and entire bizarre atmosphere of the place and this guy looked like he just steeped out of the set of Tim Burton's Nightmare Before Christmas  

Mr. Halloween really was a nice guy I'd find out later. But I'd wager a half a donut that the doctor's put me in front of him and asked him if he'd look out for me. I was too dopey and incoherent to understand what he said to the others, but he laid down the law and, when he did, the chickens ruffling in their coops suddenly grew silent. I was saved. No one was going to bully me. Thank god.


And, now, back to Tanaka. Like in real life, in this blog post too, I've been trying to avoid this guy, but, I can't. He is always hovering around somehere where you least expect him. After I had entered D-40 and quickly was allowed to shower and shave I went back out to D-40. There the nurses showed me my room. I didn't see Tanaka and felt a bit relieved. 


The rooms were like a university dorm set-up. Four guys were in one room and there were all sorts of rules that we had to follow: Lights on at 6 am and everyone out of bed and to the cafeteria for breakfast. Lights out and everyone in bed at 8 pm (I had no problem with that!) Also, no one could enter someone else's room unless they were invited. There were many others rules but those were the three most important. 


I put my stuff in my room and then laid down on the cot for a few moments. I tried to sleep but couldn't. I got up and decided that I'd explore D-40. That was a mistake. Because as soon as I walked into the public area, there was Tanaka waiting for me. He was upon on me like flies on a pile of sh*t. 


I saw him as he hurredly came towards me. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card. He then bowed to me and handed me the card and said, "I am Tanaka something-or-other." He then went on to tell me that he had graduated from Meiji University a very prestigious university and he "proved" it to my by showing me where that was written on his card. Confused, I accepted the card and acted like I was checking my pajama pockets for business cards and said, "Uh? I don't have any cards." He assured me that this was quite alright.


This business card exchange business really had me wondering. "Who is this guy? Does he work here or something? Is he a doctor or a doctor's assistant?"


Tanaka then invited me over to the living room where there was a table to play chess. "Would you like to pass the time by playing chess?" He asked me. I didn't really want to play chess. I didn't want to do anything. I just wanted to sit and vegetate but here was this guy trying to be nice to me so I said I'd play.

He was a terrible chess player. It wasn't even a contest. I beat him within 15 moves or so. After I said, "Checkmate!" He sat there for a good several minutes motionless and studying the board. With suddenness and abruptness he wiped the pieces off the board and proclaimed. "Okay. You won that time. We will play again. And, after the next game, you will teach me English."


"What!?" I thought. "No, man. I can't teach english Mr. Tanaka. I have no energy for that." I said.


"Why can't you teach me English?" he demanded, "I played chess with you." 


"Okay," I said in a flippant manner, "Here's today's English. Repeat after me: I don't want to teach English because I'm too f'ing tired."


Tanaka scowled at me and didn't repeat the sentence. Instead he said, "Why don't you teach me proper English?" 


"Look," I said, "We're in a hospital, I'm sick. You're sick. I haven't the energy to teach you anything and we have no materials or anything. I'm not going to teach English. I am here to recover not get stressed out." 


Tanaka would have none of it. He became more and more demanding. "I played chess with you and now you are not going to teach me English? You are an unfair person!"


This sort of conversation went over and over. For days he kept trying this tack. I wanted to say, "OK, Tanaka san, here's today's lesson: Why don't you get stuffed?" and left it at that. But this guy was insistent that I teach him English and he even mentioned that he was going to complain to the nurses about me. He said he was going to complain that I took advantage of him.


Finally after going back and forth for about ten minutes with this nonsense, I said, "Look, Tanaka san, I taught English for a few years in Japan. I hate teaching English. I just got out of the cooler. The last thing I want to do is to teach English to people in drug rehab at an insane asylum! Forget about it."


That didn't work either. He scowled more and became more demanding. This guy was nuts! He said, "Teach me English and I will pay you!"


"How are you going to pay me? You don't have any money!"


I can pay you after I get out of this hospital. You have my business card, don't you?"


Arrrggghhhhh! It was like arguing with a wall. I got up and said, "Sorry" and then raced back to the safety of my room. Tanaka was hot on my heels but, as soon as I got to the room, he knew the rules: No entering unless you are invited. 


This sort of thing went on my entire time in D-40 for the five days I was there. Tanaka was as persistent as hell! He just wouldn't leave me alone. Every third sentence out of his mouth was, "Please teach me English." Tanaka kept trying to get me to teach him and I kept saying, "No!" 


I must have said, "No!" 50 times a day everyday.


He would pester me in the mornings, then give up for a few minutes but be right back at it soon after. He'd try all sorts of different ways to trick me (?) In the mornings he'd ask me if I wanted to play cards or watch TV or share a snack. I'd say, "You promise you are not going to ask me about teaching you English, right?" He'd promise.


But sure as the sun would rise in east every morning, as soon as what it was that we were doing was over, he'd turn to me and say, "Please teach me English" or "If you teach me English, I will give you my white bread at breakfast" or "Okay. I won't ask you to teach me English after we play chess. So why don't you teach me English first and then we'll play chess after that."


The guy was nuts and he was driving me nuts. It figured. I was in a mental hospital. I guess it comes with the territory.


Like I said, this went on a hundred times in the short week I was in D-40. I often got so frustrated and almost angry that I wanted to complain to the doctors or the nurses but judged against it. I figured that the doctors and nurses were watching us (they were) and judging to see how we handle ourselves. That I was able to put up with Tanaka asking me the same dumb question hundreds of times without strangling him or raising my voice probably showed them that I was okay to be transferred to another ward.

On the fifth day in D-40, I woke up and all the other patients were complaining to the doctors. Word gets around fast; I was being transferred and I didn't even know about it. The other patients complained and wanted to know why they had to stay in D-40 while the new gaijin was getting transferred out so soon. They thought it was unfair!


I was happy to be away from Tanaka and English Lessons for Lunatics Book One as soon as possible.


I was told that I was to be transferred to D-41. That was a much better ward because, get this, I was told that there were "Women there!"


Jeez! What good is that going to do me? I'm a drug addict trying to recover in an insane asylum and I should be happy that there are women in my new ward!? Well, whoop-de-doo... I could imagine it then: Wild Sex Party and Japanese Insane Asylum!


Sounds like classic Japanese cinema!  




Part three of this series: Female Nurses, Schizophrenics and Jail Breaks! - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 3  http://bit.ly/xkitom

Forget Global Warming - Met Office and East Anglia Climatic Research Unit Show New Data: No Warming in 15 Years

Recent revelations on the weather have cast serious doubt on the Man-Made Global Warming theory or even if the earth is warming at all. In fact, new data just released from the London Met Office show no warming in 15 years.


The Daily Mail has the story:

The supposed ‘consensus’ on man-made global warming is facing an inconvenient challenge after the release of new temperature data showing the planet has not warmed for the past 15 years.

The figures suggest that we could even be heading for a mini ice age to rival the 70-year temperature drop that saw frost fairs held on the Thames in the 17th Century.

Based on readings from more than 30,000 measuring stations, the data was issued last week without fanfare by the Met Office and the University of East Anglia Climatic Research Unit. It confirms that the rising trend in world temperatures ended in 1997. (emphasis mine)

Abraham Hondius: Looking down the river to Southwark Cathedral. The Thames is frozen in winter and people are walking on it. Signed and dated 1677.

Couple this news with the recent report on Jan 19, 2012 of the coldest day globally in ten years (something that warmists claimed would never happen again after 2003... They also claimed in the year 2000 that snow would be "a thing of the past by 2010) along with the recent Wall Street Journal report of 16 of the world's top scientists also going public to denounce AGW polemic, and you have a Climate science in disarray.

Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 1 (Life in the Cooler) Upon Arrival to Rehab Everyone Must Detox in the Feared Cooler

Today's blog post is the first in a series of articles about events that happened nearly 20 years ago; my time in drug rehabilitation in Japan. Today will be my first day - well, first few days. I want to write down my experiences for the five weeks total I was in rehab. 

This isn't a real alcoholic, I can tell. Real alcoholics don't 

bother tearing the labels off their bottle of booze

I entered rehab because of a serious addiction to speed. My daughter had just recovered from a nearly two year fight against cancer and it was a victory for me. During that time, not only was I paying well over $5000 a month for hospital bills (private hospital and my insurance company wouldn't pay for that), I had to support two other daughters by holding down several jobs at once. I look back now and do not know how I managed it all. I certainly could not do it again. The hardest part to admit about all this is that I was a speed addict. People think that speed addicts do that drug for fun; well, it may be fun at first but it soon becomes a habit like coffee or cigarettes. Towards the end of my ordeal, I was doing about $2000 a week in speed. 

I didn't do the speed to get high. If I didn't do the speed, I'd fall asleep. I had gotten to the point whereby, if I didn't do any speed, I couldn't just function normally again. What a miserable existence it was. 


Usually, drug rehab in Japan is, at the least, a three to six month ordeal. Many people are there for a year or two. Some people are in there for many years. There were two guys in the hospital that I was in that had been there since they were 16. They were 66 when I was there. Why they were there for so long is that, in Japan, if someone won't agree to be your guarantor and look  out for you after your release, then the state won't let you go. These guys had probably caused their families so much misery that no one wanted to see them again. They were guests of the state for more than 50 years. If they haven't died, they are still there.

There were many other people who had been in an out several times. One guy, who I called, "Mister Cool," told me that he had been admitted, released and readmitted a total of nine times. I'm sure he isn't the record holder either. Mister Cool was very cool, calm and collected. Everyone else was going crazy and climbing the walls to get out of that place, but not Mister Cool. He took it all in stride. I asked him if he wasn't anxious to get out of the hospital. He told me that he was. But he also added, "What's the point of rushing to get out of here? In no time, you're just going to wind up back inside."


I was in and out in five weeks. That seems short but when I was in, it seemed like an eternity. That I got in and out so quickly was because the doctors deemed that I wasn't so bad (I thought I was and I thought they were crazy) and, the longer one stays in rehab, the more difficult it is to return to society as a productive member. So the doctors wanted me out of there as soon as possible. Once in, I wanted out of there immediately and wondered why in the hell I ever volunteered to go in in the first place.  


I would have written down my experiences at that time but I was too messed up and couldn't see any future past the end of my nose. The only future I was looking forward to was my wife visiting in the hospital and bringing me chocolates everyday (former drug abusers usually get addicted to chocolate as chocolate gives a Dopamine rush like drugs do); eating food at the hospital cafeteria everyday and getting the hell outta that place. 

This is what I looked like at that time

At that time, I was a proud new student of life in the most famous drug rehab hospital in all of Japan: Matsuzawa Hospital. In fact, Matsuzawa Hospital was the most famous drug rehab center in all of Asia. It was said that if you went to Matsuzawa and "graduated" (meaning were released back into society - never to return) that was the same and just as difficult as getting into Japan's prestigious Tokyo University and graduating.


There are lots of "funny" things about Matsuzawa. To me, the funniest part of Matsuzawa Hospital is that they put people who were recovering drug and alcohol patients into the same wards as people who were patients due to having mental disorders such as schizophrenia and the like or being mentally disturbed (uh, everyone is mentally disturbed to a certain level). Me? I was a former druggie about to go straight. I was looking forward to it. Why was I looking forward to it? Because I had voluntarily admitted myself to this madhouse. I was sick of my life. I knew that I only had three choices: Go to prison, die, or go to drug rehab. Being a coward, I took what seemed the easiest route. When I later told the other patients in my ward that I had volunteered to enter drug rehab, they all thought that, surely, I must be the craziest one in the entire insane asylum.


I don't know about today, but in Japan at that time, if you voluntarily entered into drug rehab, unlike the USA, you don't leave until the doctor says it is OK. I didn't really understand that when I went in.

You kiddin' me? If the doctor looked like that, I'd never want to leave her behind

When I was admitted into the hospital, I had no clue as to what to expect. I was asked to lay on a stretcher. The next thing I knew was I was being strapped in. I didn't fight it. I thought strapping people to a stretcher was for safety as, "Maybe they are going to carry me and I don't want them dropping me!" The next thing I knew is the doctor pulled out this massive syringe and was about to give me an injection that looked to be the size of a can of Coke.


The doctor began injecting the liquid into my arm. 


"Ha!" I laughed. I knew I was tougher than this. I was a hard core druggie and I was a foreigner. My body size was much larger than these puny Japanese! "This pharmaceutical grade stuff is for woosies! I've been doing the best!" I thought... 


I said to the doctor with a laugh, "Doc, you're going to need stronger stuff... That's not going to work on me, my friend!" The doctor just smiled at me and nodded in agreement as he continued injecting me....


I was determined to stay conscious. I repeated to the doctor, "I'm............ made of..... much tougher..... stuff...than... ZZZZZZ.... zzzzzzz >snork!<... zzzzzzzz......."


Out like a light. Off to baby bumpy nigh-nigh land....

As I said, I would have written these experiences down on paper and pencil when I was first admitted but I was too screwed up and I think they didn't allow people to have writing materials (for reasons that might become obvious later). Perhaps writing materials were forbidden because people would have figured out a way to stab themselves or someone else with the pencil or maybe they'd commit suicide by hanging with a pad and pencil? Or maybe they would have been slipping notes under the nurses' station window that said stuff like, "Get me outta here!" or "How about calling out for a delivery of a quart of Jack Daniels, eh, sugar tits?"

Gratuitous photo of sexy girls dressed like Nazi guards

When one first goes into rehab, they are put into "the cooler." The cooler is like what you see in these World War II movies; Allied soldiers captured by the Germans who make trouble at the prisoner of war camps are sent to detention in "za kooler" by the camp kommandant. People who were in the hospital for drug rehabilitation are put into the cooler because, I was told later, that many of them get really violent and so they are placed there for a few days, under heavy sedation, until they can get some of the chemicals out of their bloodstream and calm down. 

The cooler was a small room not tall enough to stand up straight in and just barely large enough to lay down in. I supposed two or three people - or maybe four could be squeezed into one room. All four walls and ceiling and floor were padded. Of course, like in a movie, the room was completely white. There were no windows and there was a connecting segment that had a toilet in it. There was no door on the toilet nor any way to flush the toilet. It reeked. The door was heavy steel with a small window that had bars on it and there was a slot at the bottom of the door for food to be passed through.

The Goon Tower at Matsuzawa Hospital

After getting my injection of sedative, I passed out dead to the world. Later, I awoke. I had no idea how long I was out. I had no idea what time of day it was. Was I out a few hours or a few days? I'm still not sure to this very day. I awoke in the cooler. I was laying on my side and, even though I was conscious, I couldn't move. Not just my body, I couldn't move my head, my fingers, anything. I was no longer in a straight jacket, it's just that my motor functions had completely stopped due to the elephant tranquilizer they gave me. By golly those sedatives did work! My faith in big pharma had been restored!

There was a jangling at the door which was above my head and, since I couldn't turn my head, I couldn't see the door. Suddenly I was witness to the black shoes and white pants of 4 or 5 medical doctors and male nurses. They were all mumbling about something. They crouched in front of me and one doctor pried open my eyelids and flashed a flashlight into my eyes. First right, then left. He held the back of my neck. Another doctor was checking my pulse. The doctor said, "Are you okay?"...

This must be a luxury cell. For one, you can stand up in it and 

it is at least 5 times bigger than my cell was.

I wanted to say, "Yes, doctor. I am fine." But I couldn't. My brain was processing the information but there must have been a problem in the synapse department because when my brain ordered my mouth to say, "I'm ok" all that came out was "Gurglllkkkkdxxx" and a heck of a lot of slobber... I couldn't respond. I had become human jello like the blob in those 1950's science fiction movies.

The main doctor looked at me for a moment and then, with a sigh, said to the other doctors, "Not yet." With that, they all stood up and walked out of the cooler their farewells were the jangling of the keys locking the door behind them.

Slam! Echo. Silence....


My brain was shouting like a lost trapped teenager screaming to his friends who were searching for him yet walking right by as they couldn't hear his cries. "Hey guys! No! Wait! I'm okay! Come back, guys!" I was jumping up and down against the door railing in my mind, but, in all actuality, I was still laying there on my side unable to make even the most basic motor reaction. "Maybe they could read Morse Code if I blink my eyes correctly?" I thought.


Drool... "Come back guys!" But I was tired... So tired... Close my eyes and then back to wonderful sleep...


This situation continued for the next day or two. It got so bad that since I could not move myself, I soiled my clothes. My wife tells me that she came to the hospital and visited the cooler while I was out cold and cleaned and changed me. I guess that is typical and how things are done in Japan. I do know that it is true at Japanese hospitals that family will often come and give invalid family members baths and change clothes. That my wonderful wife did this for me I will always be thankful for even thought I don't remember it at all. My wife would later tell me that I was in the cooler for at least "4 days or so."


The next day, the doctor's came back in. In their previous visit I was so angry at myself because I was still unable to respond coherently to their questions. I promised myself that the next time I saw them, I'd be able to respond and show them that I was okay. I wanted desperately to get out of the cooler as soon as possible. And it was obvious that if you couldn't at least say, "Hi doc!" they weren't going to let you out of the cooler. So I began practicing talking and saying words. Kind of like a self-enforced linguistic rehabilitation.


After a while, I guess a few days, I was finally able to sit up by myself.... Or, at least, what I thought was close to sitting up. I tried to listen to the door so that I could hear the footsteps of the doctors before they came to my door. I figured that this holding area where to cooler was has at least three or four or five other coolers next to mine filled with occupants who, like me, were unable to control any of their motor functions or their bladder. Maybe that's why the place reeked so bad.


At length, the jangling of the keys woke me from my trance. I tried to sit up very straight and I shook my head to try to sober up. The doctors came in and went through their ritual. 


The doctor said, "How are you doing?"


This time I really made the effort to speak clearly but I still even had trouble just lifting my head. I gathered up every bit of strength I had and yet, all I could do was mumble and drool. Again my brain was saying the words but my mouth couldn't do the movements. "Urgh..gxxsnyxxx..." 


The doctor looked at the other doctors and to my horror said, "Not yet" and they all stood up and walked out again. 


In my mind, I panicked, "No! I'll be okay in a minute! Just let me get dressed and splash some water on my face, guys! Come back!" 


Slam. Jangle. Clink. Jangle. They were gone in a flash. I was alone again in hell. Still, exhausted. Once again, I fell to sleep.


After a while I was awoken again by noise at the door. "The doctors!" I thought, "They've changed their minds and have come back to let me out!" I was so happy! But it wasn't the doctors. It was the sound of food being pushed through the slot under my door. I grew angry at this. I went over to look at the food they had given me. It was some sort of rice gruel. In Japan and China, rice gruel is often given to sick people as it is easily quite digestible. I hated rice gruel. 

That they'd walk off and then serve me rice gruel started me off to getting even more angrier the more I thought about it. I started to work myself into a huff. I think about that now and that was a sure sign that the tranquilizers were wearing off. The more I thought about my situation, the more pissed off I began to get. "Who do they think they are putting me into the cooler like this? What is this rice gruel, crap? Don't they know I hate rice gruel?" I decided that I wanted, no demanded to speak to the doctor. How dare they do this to me! I demanded my rights.


I pulled myself up to the door and tried to peek out through the bars at the top (like Steve McQueen did in Papillon) to see if I could see and doctors or nurses running around. But I couldn't see anyone. I began to loudly proclaim all the typical things you see people in the movies say when they are in incarceration:


"Hello! Hello! Anyone there? Hey! I need to talk to the doctor. There's been some sort of misunderstanding. I shouldn't be in here! Hello!" But I couldn't see anyone and the area outside of my cell was silent. I kept speaking, out, louder and louder, almost shouting for awhile, but it was no avail. I considered really screaming bloody murder at the top of my lungs, but didn't. I thought there was no use. There was no one there. I figured that no one could hear me.  Thank god I didn't throw a temper tantrum and start banging on the bars and doing stupid things like throwing my food around or banging the bars with the food plate like a caged ape. I'd find out the next day that they could hear me but allowed me to say and do as I pleased. I was under observation. 


I gave up and sat back down. I was still mad though. I looked over to the rice gruel and decided then and there that I was going to show them. I was going to turn the tables on these wicked people. I was going to gain my release through the peaceful protest methods of the greats like Mahandas Gandhi: I was going to go on a hunger strike and then, next to death, I'd become a world famous celebrity and they'd have to release me.

Been there. Done that. I figured this guy and I had a lot in common!

Yes. That's the ticket! I'd starve myself out of there. I wouldn't eat anything until those doctors came back and started begging me to eat something... I could see it all. Imagine, me! Me as the serious and devout man with a cause and those stinking doctors begging for mercy! They be begging for me to eat. I'd be on the covers of Time and Newsweek magazine! I'd be the world leader of an entirely new protest movement! (I think about that now and realize that the sedative must have been wearing off because I was back to having crazy thoughts of grandeur and delusion!)


"Hmph! That's fix them!" I thought. So I sat there having decided that I wouldn't touch the food. That warm food that, actually smelled pretty good. I began having conversations in my head. There was an angel of my good conscious on my right shoulder and the devil sitting on my left. The three of us began to argue.


"Come to think of it, I am pretty famished as I hadn't eaten anything in three or four days!"


"No! You coward! You'll never get out of here if you give into their tricks!"


"He's right, you know. For all you know that food is laced with more sedatives and mind control drugs. They want you to eat it. That's part of their 'plan.'"


"But, you know, my wife really likes that rice gruel stuff. I've never really cared for it. But it does smell pretty good."


"What? What kind of thoughts are these? You've just started a hunger strike and you've lasted maybe 15 minutes and you're giving up already? Don't you have any respect for yourself."


"Yeah? Don't you have any respect for yourself?"


I knew it. Those guys were right. So I stuck with the two out of three guy's opinion and decided to stick it out with my hunger strike. For one, I wanted out of there. For two, I hated rice gruel. If it had been something like fried chicken I think I might have listened to whoever it was who wanted food (I think the wimpy one was me).


So I gave up again and, determined to go on hunger strike, at least until the doctors came the next day, I laid back down in an attempt to sleep and forget about my troubles and the food. When the doctors came in the next day and saw that I hadn't touched my food, they'd become alarmed and, I figured, then we could negotiate on even terms.


I tried to sleep but damn if my stomach didn't stop growling. I was starving. I went back and forth with myself trying to fight the urge to eat, but, after several hours I was so famished I couldn't stand it no more. I had to eat.


I felt like that guy in Midnight Express who was so hungry that he ate a cockroach to survive. I was so hungry that I could do the same! ER, not eat a cockroach, but to eat rice gruel which was almost as bad (at least in my book!)


I jumped to the door and grabbed the spoon and wolfed down a huge bite of gruel. "Yeech! This stuff is cold!" I thought. But it tasted pretty good! "Dammit! I thought, "Why didn't I eat this when it was hot?"


Within a few seconds I had downed the food. I even licked the plate. I put the plate back at the door and tried to peer through. "Thank you! Anyone! That was delicious! Hello! That was delicious!" There was no one there.

A stomach half full and nothing to do, I fell back asleep. I don't remember how much time passed but I do remember later thinking that there might have been sedatives in the food, but, no! That would be a quite inefficient way to administer drugs. They had me locked up. I wasn't going nowhere. They could come in and give me pills or injections and there'd be nothing I could do about it. Why would they lace the food with drugs?


After a while I had to go to the toilet so I saw the spartan settings for the first time. There was only a wash basin and toilet. As I mentioned, after using the toilet, I had no way to flush it so the room stank even more. I tried to yell for someone to flush the toilet out through the bars in my door, but there was no one to hear my cries. Again, I fell asleep.


The next day, the doctors came back. This time I was determined to shape up so that I could ship out. 


The doctor looked at me and said, "You look better today. How are you doing?"

I sat up as straight as I could and drooled out a weak but recognizable, "Fine, doctor.... Thanks to you!" 

I thought I needed to add a, "Thanks to you" to show that I was coherent enough to know that I needed to show some appreciation to get myself outta that place. I figured I'd do some a*s kissing now and play my aces when the time was right. I was satisfied that I was able to give the answer I had planned. 

The doctor then said to me, "Mike. We are going to take you out of here today and put you in a ward with other patients, But if you get violent, you're coming right back in here, do you understand?" 

"Oh stay my beating heart!" I thought but "Yes, doctor." I answered. "I won't be violent."

"We are sending you to unit D-40 where there are other patients. You'll be able to take a shower, shave and have your own room that you will share with other patients. If there is any trouble at all you will be brought back here. You'll be able to eat in the cafeteria and if you have any questions, the nurses will help you. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks." I said.

"We will give the order to bring you out of here to the male nurses and they will take you out before lunch time. Please immediately wash and get ready for lunch."

"Yes. Thank you."

The doctors got up and walked out. I was so happy! Freedom! I was going to be free from this wretched place! But I wondered what kind of place D-40 was? Was it like a regular hospital where I could walk in and out as I pleased? Or was it more of a military style place much like the World War II prisoner of war camps that things like the cooler were known to accompany?

I grew a bit anxious. Suddenly D-40, while sounding better than the cooler, struck fear in my heart. What if it were like a prison where the inmates have their own pecking order and boss? What if I were thrown into a place with a bunch of drug addicts and former Yakuza who didn't like foreigners?

Was I about to become the whipping boy and someone's bitch in D-40? Was I going to be waking up every morning with an empty bottle of baby oil knocked over near my head, a sore a*shole and an ashtray on my back? What horrors were awaiting me? 


I had a few hours to find out. 


It was in D-40 and my next experiences that I was to find out that my next ward was not so much like a prison in the movies or like a gestapo prisoner of war camp, but much more like an insane asylum ala the classic film, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Why? Because in Japan, drug addicts and mental patients are co-mingled in the same hospitals and in the same wards.

I didn't know that when I checked in. I was about to go from the frying pan into the fire.

Continued in Part 2: I Was an English Teacher in a Japanese Insane Asylum - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 2 (Life in D-40)