'My Chinese Hospital Hell'

Well, not really. I just enjoy racy headlines.
In truth, my trip to a Chinese hospital was not remotely hellish. If anything, I was pleasantly surprised by the standards of hygiene imposed by the staff.
Given that my own dear grandmother is carrying MRSA around a Dublin hospital as I write (get well soon Nana), it struck my how often everyone washes their hands. And there are sinks everywhere.
Even the cashier has a sink beside her desk and I witnessed admin staff routinely scrubbing their mitts every time they left the room.
Alas, the patients have yet to follow the good example set by staff. Standing in a queue waiting to hand over 84Yuan, the woozy-looking woman in front of me cleared her throat forcefully and spat a thick phlegmy spit onto the floor. Moments later, a teenage girl casually hacked up as she headed down a corridor. Delightful. Some Chinese people spit all day every day, but surely they could give it a rest in hospitals.
As usual, I was quite the talking point among the locals, who listened carefully as I told the clerk what I wanted to have done. Nor were my fellow patients shy about craning their necks around the door frame to observe my consultation with the doctor.
There are too many people in China for me to bother expecting confidentiality, so it's a good job I wasn't there for a syphilis test.
I was in hospital to have my cholesterol checked - much to the amusement of the medic who more or less suggested it was ridiculous for one so skinny to be so worried.
I had the same thing done in Ireland publicly and privately in the past 18 months and it took longer to be seen, cost more (if you include the GP referral) and the results weren't in for a month.
I'm getting my results from Tsinghua University Hospital tomorrow morning.
The fixtures and fittings in the hospitals here are aging, but they keep the place spotless. Most importantly, the needles and other disposables are, thankfully, disposable.
However, they don't dab your arm with cotton wool and put a plaster on you after you give blood, they just jab a tiny cotton stick dipped in iodine onto your wound, and tell you to hang around for five minutes. No mollycoddling can be expected in Beijing.
Shockingly, I left feeling like Ireland could learn a lot from Chinese hospitals. They would be perfect if only the patients would stop spitting.