CHINESE HOSPITAL -- 東華醫院

Ten months ago I decided that I needed health insurance. So I signed up with the Chinese Community Health Plan, despite being non-Chinese, and decided that primary care would be at the clinic on the ground floor of the Chinese Hospital. The reasons for my choices were that if any one had experience dealing with stubborn old dinosaurs they would, and it was near enough to my apartment that it was incredibly convenient. Besides, I know that neighborhood, I'm there several times a week for eating, shopping, and smoking my pipe after a cup of milk tea, I speak enough city Cantonese to get by (and I might as well capitalize on that), and ninety percent of their demographic consists of individuals who won't give up all of their bad habits despite doctors orders or their kin.

The wife of one of their patients years ago would swap out hospital food for things her husband loved to eat; salt fish, fatty pork, roast duck.
Conspiratorial, ill-advised, and probably quite unhealthy.
It's pointless to argue with people like that.


So far, they've helped me dodge a bullet twice.


Everyone I've dealt with is courteous, warm, helpful, plus incredibly professional and knowledgeable. And tolerates neurotic eccentrics.
At least, I think they tolerate me; if I drive them to drink or up the wall,
they'll never let on.


東華醫院
[Chinese Hospital ('tung waa yi yuen')]


That I am still alive, still full of piss and vinegar, and still capable of irritating the spit out of certain folks (especially habitual cigar smokers and other social deviants) is entirely their fault. And I appreciate that.

The last few times I was there I did not get the lecture about the evils of tobacco that are obligatory. An oversight, I am sure. When I was recovering from my emergency surgery, it wasn't brought up. I'm certain that if I had expressed a desire to smoke afterwards they would've slapped a nicotine patch on my cheeks so fast it would make your head spin, we don't need that right now dear fellow.

A week later at the follow-up visit, my doctor didn't mention it either, and a few days after that I was just there to pick up refills at the pharmacy.

As I said, an oversight.


Chinese Hospital has ties to the Tung Wah Hospitals in Hong Kong.
Their staff are Chinese and non-Chinese, and multilingual.

There is a convenient awning at a vacant shop across the street which provides shelter from the rain for pipe-smoking Dutch Americans.
That's icing on the cake.

Plus nearby bakeries and chachantengs.
A man has to have snackies.

It's a good place.

Thank you.




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