傷風兼頭痛了好幾天，星期六下午終於忍受不了肉體痛楚，迫自已去看醫生。
胡亂找了間在家附近寫字樓大廈的醫務所。踏進醫務所，發現內裡空無一人，在這流感高風期的確是異數。候診地方一眼見曬，但已比一般屋苑商場內的蚊型診所慷慨地闊落。方正的候診處的中央放了個色彩繽紛、有小孩般高的玩具組合，各樣細小的玩具，都整齊安放在正確位置。醫務所亮了柔和的橙色燈光，加上透過百頁簾灑在地上的黃昏陽光，感到氣氛相當溫暖。
接待處無人看管，我放棄用檯面的手按召喚鈴，恐怕打破這地方應有的寧靜。待了一會，護士出來，竟然是個二十歲開外的男兒漢（幾十歲人，都是第一次看到男人在私人診所當護士）。
護士先生耐心地登記我的個人資料後，便回到 back office 核實我的醫療保險卡是否適用，我也只好坐在牆邊的梳化等候。不久他從接待處推門出來並對我說：「我查清楚了，我們接受你的醫療保險卡。現在讓我幫你先量一量血壓和體溫。」一般私人診所的護士就算看見病人病到不似人形，都不會主動幫你量體溫，何況量血壓；病人叫到，她們最多都是遞支探熱針給你自已搞掂。這診所的認真態度真抵讚。
血壓正常，但體溫竟較正常低了兩度，我心想：「沒搞錯嗎？我覺得自已有點發燒喔，哥仔。」正想開口之際，護士先生說：「可能是（耳孔）探熱器的消毒酒精影響，等我幫你探多一次。」探多一次度數正常。
護士先生幫我做過初步檢查後，便回到接待處後面，返回 back office 去。候診地方再只剩我一人。不久，聽到聖誕歌聲，原來走廊角落是間教會，教友的歌聲從玻璃門縫漏了進來，聽得人很舒服、很平靜，有陣子忘了肉身的痛楚。
好景不常，一個看似三十有多的女士帶著一位應該是她媽媽的嬸嬸進來。還未坐下，那位中女便指著梳化上一個被按動便會發聲的毛公仔，擠出自以為天真爛漫的聲線嚷著：「哎喲，我估我遲早忍吾住要捻它一下喇，但又怕它會好嘈……」說時遲那時快，她已捻了個毛公仔一下，公仔隨即發出一串刺耳的日語乖叫，她一下不夠喉，再來兩三下，這人真不為他人設想，給她氣死。
幸虧醫生已預備好見我，我再也不用繼續被她滋擾。
醫生開的傷風藥標明「會使人昏昏欲睡」，果然名符其實，當晚昏睡了七、八小時。
The cold and headache were killing me last Saturday. I couldn’t bear any more and dragged myself to see the doc.
Randomly I picked one of the clinics in the office building in my neighbourhood. Stepping into the clinic, I found nobody inside. It was an unusual scene at the peak of flu season. One quick glance could cover the entirety of the waiting area. But it was already generously bigger than a typical tiny clinic in residential estates. A fancy-coloured playhouse was stood quietly right in the middle of the square waiting area. The various little toys of the playhouse were neatly placed in where they belonged to. The room was lit with a warm orange ambience. The air was infused with the sunset spilt through the half-opened venetian blind.
The reception was unmanned. I gave up on sounding the call bell in the fear of upsetting the peace and quiet. Before long, a nurse – a guy in his twenties – came out. (This was the first male nurse I encountered in a private clinic.)
After patiently tapping my personal details into the computer, he moved to the back office to verify if they accepted my medical insurance card. I then sat back on the cushioned bench to wait. Shortly afterwards, he appeared from behind the reception door. “I’ve checked. We accept your card. Let me now take your blood pressure and temperature,” he said in a reassuring manner. Nurses in private clinics don’t usually offer to take your temperature even if you look sickly half dead. If you ask, they will coldly hand out a thermometer to you and you have to help yourself. This clinic’s services were really commendable.
My blood pressure was normal, but temperature was not. I thought to myself, ” What? I think I have a temperature, Mister!” Before I opened my mouth to protest, he said, “It’s probably the alchohol left on the (ear) thermometer. Let me do it again, just to double check.” The second reading was fine.
He disappeared into the back office after performing the preliminary checks on me. The whole waiting area was left to myself again. I began to hear people singing Christmas carols in nice unison. Round the corner of the corridor was a unit where people gathered for worshipping. As the soul-soothing chant continued to seep through the gap under the glass door into the clinic, I let myself soak into the comfort of this clinic-turned snug. For a moment or two, I forgot about the physical pain I had.
Good times are precious. A woman in her thirties led what appeared to be her mother into the clinic. Before the younger woman sat down, she pointed to the sound soft toy on the bench and yelled in her pseudo-innocent voice, “Oh, it’s so cute. I can’t wait to squeeze it. But maybe it will be a bit noisy…” Before she finished her self-confession, she had already squeezed it. Some ear-blasting weird Japanese utterances were triggered. She repeated a few more times for self-gratification. How inconsiderate she was!
Luckily the doc was ready to see me, saving me from her harassment.
On the package of the tablets it was said “May cause sleepiness”. An understated warning indeed. I had a comatose sleep that night.
