For some strange reason, this week I have found my mind drifting back to the years I spent in China. More specifically, I have been thinking about a couple of experiences I had with the Chinese health care system.

I suspect I have been thinking about these issues and events because of the fact that I have been undergoing a series of medical tests of late. Medical tests are never any fun unless you happen to be a masochist, but take it from me, having any sort of medical procedure performed at a Chinese hospital is like something straight out of a Stephen King novel.

What’s more, my wife is currently in China, due to return at the end of this week, and I just heard from her that she had a tooth fixed while in her hometown, the thought of which is enough to make even a 240-pound linebacker wet his pants.

No, nothing to do with fixing the body is a fun-filled time in China. In fact, it is the opposite. It is an adventure in terror.

I recall two events in particular: a plugged ear and a prostate exam.

I guess I will talk about the plugged ear because I still can’t speak of the prostate exam without Valium.

In my fourth year in China my left ear just closed up. I couldn’t hear a thing and every time I spoke it sounded to me like I was talking in a cave. This wasn’t so bad except for the fact that I worked as a college teacher and I was required to speak quite often. Whenever I addressed a class I felt like I was listening to that film clip of Lou Gehrig making his retirement speech in Yankee Stadium. Needless to say, I had to do something.

My darling wife Li accompanied me to the Shantou No. 1 Hospital, also known as the Little Shop of Horrors. I was taken to the department that dealt with eyes and ears and the fun began.

After examining my ear with various strange looking utensils, a nurse leaned my head over to one side and placed a funnel in my ear. She then poured a concoction into the funnel that felt like a cross between Perrier and Drano. It smelled more like Drano. They let me sit there for about 10 minutes while my ear spewed and gurgled like an overheated radiator.

Next, an older lady wheeled in what looked like a lawn mower engine on two wheels. The contraption had several long, rubber tubes connected to it and, from the corner of my eye, I spotted a pull cord. Whatever this device was, it started just like a Briggs and Stratton.

A doctor came in and said a few words in Chinese. Li translated for me but I couldn’t hear a word she said due to the volcano that was still roiling in my left ear. The doc then went over and, placing his foot on the engine for leverage, yanked on the cord two or three times.

The engine coughed to life and wheezed at low idle while the doctor busied himself with the task of attaching the tubes to two glass jars, one empty and one filled with fluid. It was about this time that I discovered that the Briggs and Stratton was a two-cycle job, causing the room to slowly fill with oil and gas fumes. Mercifully, someone opened a window.

Nothing could have prepared me for what came next. After removing the funnel, the doctor inserted one of the rubber tubes into my ear and flipped a switch attached to the sputtering engine. He then stepped on what must have been the engine’s throttle because the machine began to sound like an accelerating Moped. It was at about that point that the first blast of water shot into my ear with the muzzle velocity of a Howitzer.

To say that the pain was excruciating would be a vast understatement. My peripheral vision sort of folded in and I fought hard to keep from passing out. The doc kept this water torture up for about 90 seconds but it seemed like an eternity. I was panting loudly by the time he let up on the lawn mower throttle but the doc ignored this as he removed the tube from my ear and prepared for the next phase.

Placing the rubber hose attached to the empty bottle in my ear, he then flipped a second switch and put the pedal to the metal. I heard a loud “whoosh” just before I had the sensation that what few brains I possessed were being sucked out through my left ear. I am not sure how much experience this physician had, but I suspect he could give demonstrations for Hoover any time he wanted.

The Briggs and Stratton pulled the blockage from my ear with a loud “thwock” and I almost passed out.

I’m not sure what I was more thankful for: the fact that I could now hear or the blessed relief that the ordeal was over. Or so I thought.

The doc took the tube out, put the other tube back in and blasted me once again with the water jet. His face was inscrutable. I’m not sure if he was just making sure that my ear was thoroughly cleaned or if he just wanted to see how much I could take.

Raising me up to a sitting position, he took out the tube, shut down the motor and told me to sit still for five minutes before trying to stand up. I doubt that I could have stood if I wanted to.

These days, whenever I undergo a medical procedure, I try to keep all this in mind. Somehow, it makes whatever I am going through seem like a walk in the park. And who knows, someday I may even be able to talk about the prostate exam.