Nursing staff at the small plastic surgery clinic in Hohut, Inner Mongolia, PRC

The operating theatre

Chapter Four: Second procedure in China
Returning to Hohut with the doctor's parting words: "Call me; I give you price - eighty thousand RMB (10,000 USD) for only your lower face during winter holidays" made me feel like I had been had. This was China, not the USA, and I wasn't some sleek diplomat's wife with a phobia of germs willing to pay top dollar to pretend she was in the New World. My checkbook was depleted and my pride had been stung. With her haughty nurses and querulous manner I knew Dr. Li was not going to see me again.
    My first experience of surgery had been in June. It was now August and I chatted despondently about my trip to Madame Lin, the owner of a small dressmaker's shop where I often had skirts altered. "Your face does look a little better," she commented. "But I know a famous clinic, here in town, that can do the full plastic operation for you," my plump friend said, pinning my skirt and smiling up at me. "My cousin just had her face done. Here, I'll give a call right now." Madame Lin spewed out a torrent of words, hung up and said, "We go together, in a cab, now." She grabbed my arm, as I stepped back into my altered jeans. Then she dragged me out to the street, hailed a cab and sat patting my arm and chatting about the newest fashions.
    Dr. Yan's clinic consisted of a four story building in the older part of town. His booming business was multi-faceted and employed thirty five private employees. In the lobby a young nurse, his niece, sold very expensive anti-aging cosmetics. The second floors housed a beauty parlor complete with foot and face massage as well as a hairstyling area, manicure tables and permanent makeup facilities. The third floor held two small operating theaters, with two recovery rooms holding two medical beds apiece, as well as large western bathrooms and sterile changing areas for staff and patients.    The mezzanine, under the reception, served as a sports area with four large ping pong tables. Stairs led to the basement floor. This large underground area held staff locker rooms, employee bathrooms, medical equipment for sterilization, a huge communal kitchen and dining area, and eight private rooms for recovering patients to use while discreetly recovering from cosmetic procedures.
    As we entered a large, auburn-haired Chinese woman with strikingly slanted eyes approached and beckoned that we sit down. "I am head nurse Wang Jia," she said. Madame Lin explained what I wanted; the woman nodded and stared at me gravely.    "The doc can do it today, a full face, everything, if you want," she said.
    "How much?" asked my friend, leaning back in the velvet chair.
    They conferred, counting and recounting: medicine, operation, pre-test, bag of blood, pain meds, antibiotics, sleeping over at the clinic. "Thirteen thousand sixty, everything," said the nurse. "That includes some state of the art anti-aging cosmetics as well; we sell it exclusively here."
    "Great deal," I responded.
    "We do the operation in one hour, okay?" said the nurse, rising.
    "Hey, wait a minute," I protested. "I have to go to the bank, get money, and then go home to pack an overnight bag. One hour is too fast."
    "Two hours at most," she said, smiling broadly. "The doc flies out to He Nan tomorrow; he will only be here today."   
    In China things are done very differently with regards to plastic surgery compared to the west. I was impressed by the look of the place and I'd already made up my mind to do it. My Chinese friend said it was reputable. They actually were much better than the fancy western style hospital in Beijing- more friendly, more professional and they only did one thing: plastic surgery.
    "Okay," I replied. With that Madame Lin and I left, zooming by taxi to the bank, to campus, to her shop, and then back to the clinic. "I'll stay and translate until you go under knife," she said, "They might need to ask questions."
    A gaggle of young nurses congregated around us, staring curiously: I was their first foreign client. Grabbing my arms, the girls led me to a lab room. One took my pulse, one my blood, another took my temperature and weight. A young male nurse immediately spun my blood in a centrifuge, conducted his necessary tests, and gave me the "go ahead" thumbs up.
    "Let's do it," I murmured, looking at a petite nurse with a long ponytail. She laughed politely and bowed.
Together we all walked up to the second floor, where Wang Jia directed a beautician to shave certain areas of my skull. "This is where we make the incision, so it must be sterile, free of hair," she said. "You can wear a ribbon to hide it later." After shaving the areas three nurses and I, together with Madame Lin and Wang Jia all entered the operating areas. We changed our shoes, scrubbed our hands, and I stripped into my little blue nightie in front of everyone. "You might want to get your breasts lifted," commented Madame Lin. I blushed, and Mrs. Wang opened the operating door, saying, "Now you have eaten nothing this morning at all, correct?"
    "Yes," I meekly replied, thankful that I had forgotten to have my morning coffee - I'd vomit it up on the operating table due to the anesthesia. "Lie down, the doc is coming in now." Within minutes Dr Yan and his staff had strategically placed themselves around me, setting up instruments and preparing to start. The last person I saw was Madame Lin, hovering anxiously like a distraught butterfly over my head.

CHAPTER 1: West meets East
CHAPTER 2: American and Chinese approaches to surgery
CHAPTER 3: First procedure in China
CHAPTER 5: The end result

GO BACK TO BODY LANGUAGE WEB