A Chinese Nightmare: From Patient to PLA Prisoner to Indentured Laborer

It's over...
It's finally, over...
Except that it's not.
It's not, and it won't be for a long time.

A month doesn't sound like a long time; unless it's spent enduring a preview of Hell (such as being brought, badly injured, to a facility belonging to a hostile nation's military and left there against your will, being routinely subjected to absolutely botched medical procedures and nursing staff neglect) and then being told, at the end of it all, that you cannot leave. So for me, the 32 days stretching from 28 February to 31 March were beyond a shadow of doubt, bar none, the longest 32 days of my life. Having already described the experience of being vivisected by what passes for medical professionals in China in my previous two entries I won't recap too much here, except for the final stage (the removal of the damnable machine they had me hooked up to). Instead, this entry will focus on the one part of the entire experience that would have put me on suicide watch if the thought of my children had not been ever-present in my mind: the fight to actually get OUT of the hospital.
Before I begin, I would like to say that I have written all three of these entries (especially this one) not simply as an account of my experience but as a warning to any other expats in China who may be reading this. DO NOT, under any circumstances, allow yourself to be placed under the care of China's hospital system. Nearly every major city in China has at least one completely foreign-operated hospital (be it Japanese, American, European or South Korean). These hospitals are more expensive of course, which is why many choose to check in to Chinese hospitals instead. Should you find yourself in need of medical care, remember my story and pay the extra money.

Final Treatment

After the skin-grafting surgery that I described in my previous entry (20 March), I was told that the saline-cycling machine my leg was hooked up to would be removed the following Wednesday, and that I would be free to leave the following Friday. On Wednesday, as promised, a group of seven doctors and four nurses (I'm not sure why there were so many given that only one doctor and one nurse did any actual work) gathered around my bed to remove the machine from my leg. The sight that greeted me was something that looked less like a Human leg and more like a cherry pie pulled from the oven, with blood oozing out between strips of skin the way cherry sauce would ooze out between strips of batter. While I stared, dumbstruck, the doctors actually broke into applause (yes, applause), with badly pronounced shouts of pre-rehearsed English exclamatories, such as "perfect!" and "beautiful!"

The most ironic part bout the entire carnival show was that the wound on my knee (which was the actual wound from my fall, the one that landed me in the hospital in the first place) was still open, bleeding, and untouched.

After an entire month in the "care" of these butchers, the only wounds to receive treatment were the ones they inflicted!

They were, however, kind enough to inform me that there is a slight chance I will never fully recover and will walk with a limp for the rest of my life, due to the knee injury.
You know, the one they've done exactly fuck-all about in the month they've had me confined here at the "Meiyou Clinic".
To be honest, I don't even remember what was said or done for the next hour or so. All I remember was staring at the leg as they wrapped it, and thinking "you've got to be kidding me." Later that evening though, was a bit of a surreal experience. An elderly Chinese lady who was staying on a fold-out cot in the room to take care of her husband (a patient who was missing part of his foot) had spent most of the past week fussing over me like a mother hen (she spent the entire day after my skin-grafting surgery slowly chanting "wo shi nide Zhongguo mama," meaning "I am your Chinese mother").
Given my experience with the Chinese (especially the elder generation) I'm forced to admit that as aggravating as this was, she was genuinely trying to be helpful, which she was under no obligation to do, and I'm grateful for at least her intentions. However, without a common language, when someone makes a habit of trying to tell you when to eat, what to eat, what not to eat, and rearranging what belongings you have with you (in spite of your objections) so that your book is now out of reach and the nurse call button (which usually does not work) is as well, especially during times when you have the curtain drawn around your bed and you would prefer to simply be left alone, it grates on the nerves.
Well, on this particular evening, the lady in question came to me with an ornate book (which I couldn't read because it was in Mandarin, and traditional Mandarin at that) and opened it to the first page. At the top was a much younger photo of the chief of the doctors who had presided over my "treatment," in full PLA dress greens (all I know about his identity is that his surname is Jiang, his name contains the character "san" meaning "3," and his WeChat ID is fisherman306). As it was later explained to me, this book was one of China's national medical manuals, and this was the "about the author" page.
The lady was attempting to assure me "your doctor is a respected professional." Given that China has had a bad run recently of fake doctors with fake credentials (Liu, The World of Chinese), including one rather notorious incident in Chengdu where a "doctor" with forged credentials worked for several years in one hospital and owned his own clinic nearby prior to raping a drugged patient (for which he was sentenced to a whopping six years and a fine of less than $1,000 US dollars) (Wong, South China Morning Post), I suppose this reassurance did not seem out of place through Chinese eyes. As for me, all I could think was "if this guy is the one writing their manuals, then that explains a lot about the state of healthcare in this country." Well, never mind. I was going to be out of this pit two days later. Right?
Yeah, about that...

Detained By the PLA For Using an American Bank Card

Thursday came.
My employer, the Macchiavellian little weasel who brought me to this hospital and then, when I was physically and legally trapped, locked me into an employment contract for the lowest salary I have seen in my tenure in China (see my previous entry), came to me and said "excellent news! The doctors say you are finally healed!"
My skill with words is not sufficient to express my elation upon hearing this (and a day earlier than expected), even though even a cursory glance at my leg was enough to reveal it for the farcical statement that it was. "Great! So, I can leave, right?"
That was when my employer's expression changed subtly. "Well," she said crisply, "there is the little matter of the bill."
I rolled my eyes, having known this was coming. "Right," I groaned as I began fumbling through my documents for my US debit card (since my Chinese bank was virtually empty at this point). "How much is the damage?"
"We have good relations with the hospital," she said proudly, "so it is not so much." She then produced a slip of paper and handed it to me. Amid all the Chinese characters I was able to discern the figures "RMB 43,036," a figure that comes to around $6,000 USD. I'm forced to admit, this was a lot better than I had been expecting.
However, China was not through throwing problems at me yet.
I'll skip over the melodrama of the day and simply say that the end result was that I was unable to use my US bank card to pay the bill (the hospital could not accept Visa, or Mastercard, or any other cards except "UnionPay," which is not used anywhere on the planet outside of China except a handful of airports and tourist towns that receive heavy Chinese traffic). I have a Chinese bank, of course, with a UnionPay card, but given the jaw-dropping frequency of financial fraud in China (Yu, The Epoch Times), which continues to run absolutely rampant despite Xinhua's brief (and utterly unsubstantiated) claim that it is declining (Xinhua News), I never keep more than a few thousand RMB in it, opting to keep the rest of my money in an infinitely more reliable US bank. However, as I've repeatedly pointed out, China does not like to acknowledge that anything outside its borders exists, so a bank card from the U.S. might as well be from Mars here. There are a handful of ATM's in the country that will allow withdrawals using a Visa or Mastercard (the ones at the banks themselves, or in airports), but this too was a problem, as I was forbidden to leave the hospital until the bill was paid.
Now, let's analyze this: you're forbidden to go get the money to pay the bill... until you've paid the bill, even though you HAVE the money to pay the bill, but they refuse to accept the payment medium. In what country would this make sense? Right. China. And rest assured, given that this was a PLA hospital, armed troops showed up the moment I raised my voice to complain about the backwardness of the situation.
By the end of the day, my employer gave me a shame faced look and said "well, unfortunately, you cannot leave until you have paid the bill."
I asked, "where am I going to get 43,036 RMB if I'm not allowed to access an ATM?"
To which she answered, "actually, it's 43,116 now, because it is too late in the day to check-out and you have to pay for another night." At this point the two PLA infantrymen who had been following me around (apparently an American on crutches is dangerous enough to require two armed Chinese guards) took hold of my arms and forcibly escorted me back to the ward I had been assigned to, to contemplate the situation: I was currently under detention by the Chinese Army, for no criminal charge, without benefit of a lawyer or consular access, until such time as a ransom was paid, and I was supposed to pay them more each day for confining me! And when I began typing an email to the US embassy explaining this situation, the doctor (who somehow became aware of who I was contacting) ripped the laptop from my hands and threw it across the ward, smashing it against the wall, shrieking something about "lies that defame China."

For the record, I would not recommend that anyone do what I did after this point unless getting killed in a third-world country is your ambition in life, but by this point, I'd had it.

I stood up (which hurt like hell without the crutches), picked up my walking cane discreetly, locked eyes with the doctor (whose rank, by the way, was Lieutenant Colonel), repeated the situation exactly as I described it above (and in my email to the embassy), and said "alright Jackass, tell me the part that was a lie."
He fumed for a minute, wagging a finger in my face, and said "we saved your life! You should be grateful!"
I was unable to respond to that one, as I was thinking back to having my leg slashed open without anesthesia (multiple times) and laughing too hard, but when the hand that was pointing a finger in my face was pulled back as if preparing for a backhand, I raised up my walking cane and roared in no uncertain terms that getting the shit beaten out of him in his own hospital by an injured American civilian would not look good on his service record. Frankly, if he had called the guard in at that point it would have ended badly for me, but I suppose he wasn't willing to lose face by admitting he needed a guard to deal with an American who was barely able to walk. Instead, he simply stormed out of the ward, followed by the older lady who had insisted on referring to herself as my "Chinese mother."
Several days passed like this. Each day, a soldier came to my ward (they were no longer sending nurses; now they sent an armed guard in dress greens) to inform me (via translator) how much my bill had gone up, and to ask if anyone Chinese had agreed to (in these words) "sponsor my release." Each day the answer was no. Each day I was reminded "you will remain here until your bill is paid." Each day I insisted "the bill would already be paid if I was allowed to go to an ATM, or if your third world cashier system could accept a Visa card." Each day the response was "dees eez Chah-nah, not Ah-mei-lee-ka. Yoo leev een Chah-nah, yoo yoo-za Chah-niz ben-ka kod aw nah-ting!"
Finally, the school to which my agent had assigned me (where I was supposed to start work on Monday, 1 April) called the agent. I didn't hear the details of the conversation until later, when I heard them from the principal, but here is how I'm told that it happened. The school called on Sunday, 31 March and said "our teacher is coming on Monday, right?"
The agency's response was "well, no, but we'll send a substitute."
The school, hearing this, had an absolute fit (they had been so impressed with the demo class I delivered with my leg ripped open that they'd insisted "this teacher, no other," and the last-minute bait-and-switch left them ready to cancel their contract with the agency and sue the agency for breach). In a flash, the agency found it in whatever ice cavern passes for their hearts to pay the hospital bill for me, with the understanding that I have to pay them back of course.
They came to the hospital, I checked out, and then I went to the company office (where the agency has decided to convert one of the offices into a makeshift bedroom for me instead of paying me the promised housing allowance... you can't make this garbage up) to sign a repayment agreement, and here is where it got weird(er).

Just Sign on the Dotted Line, Please

Obviously, the agency expected collateral until the loan (which, considering the absolutely insulting salary of the contract they ensnared me in, is roughly 3 and a half months' pay, if I devote every penny of my salary to repayment and forego the luxuries like food and water) is repaid. And what collateral do they want me to leave at the office?
My fucking US bank card!
The same US bank card that would enable me to go to an ATM at the bank and withdraw the money to pay them back in a single day. The agency insists (and a Chinese cop is present to make it plain that I have no choice) that rather than going to an ATM and paying them back in a single afternoon, I must leave the means of accessing money in a locked box at their office, and pay them back in monthly installments from the God-forsaken miserable salary I was forced (under literal threat-to-life) to accept.
And, of course, until this loan (which, once again, I could pay back in a single day if I were permitted to use my US bank card) is repaid, there is an exit ban in my file at Customs and Immigration. Any attempt to leave the country would result in my arrest and indefinite detention (Beauregard-Champagne, The Globe and Mail).

...You know, in a previous article I warned any expats living in China (especially Americans) that it was time to get the Hell out. I myself was forming my exit strategy as I posted that. My intention was to ship everything I owned back to the States and then put China in the rearview mirror for good. But first, just one last volunteer stint in Thailand. Then I would pop back to Beijing, pack my suitcases, and leave.
After all, what could possibly go wrong?

The silver lining, if there is one, is that this June, when the 30 year anniversary of Tiananmen Square rolls around, if anything happens I'll be in Beijing to report it first-hand. And who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky and write an article about it that is inflammatory enough to get me deported.

Works Cited

Beauregard-Champagne, Jerome. "Why China's Exit Ban is Worrying for Travellers." The Globe and Mail, 21 Dec, 2018. Web, 6 April, 2019.
https://www.theglobeandmail.com/opinion/article-why-chinas-exit-ban-is-worrying/

Fan Yu. "China's Financial Fraud Problem." The Epoch Times. 23 Mar, 2018. Web, 3 Apr, 2019.
https://www.theepochtimes.com/chinas-financial-fraud-problem_2655466.html

Liu, Hatty. "Doctored Credentials." The World of Chinese. 12 July, 2017. Web, 5 Apr, 2019.
https://www.theworldofchinese.com/2017/07/doctor-ed-credentials/

Wong, Michelle. "Fake Doctor Jailed for 6 Years for Raping Female Patient in China." South China Morning Post. 28 Jan, 2019. Web, 4 Apr, 2019.
https://www.scmp.com/news/china/society/article/2183989/fake-doctor-jailed-6-years-raping-female-patient-china

Xinhua Staff. "China Sees Fewer Financial Fraud Cases." Xinhua News. 3 April, 2019. Web, 5 April, 2019.
http://www.xinhuanet.com/english/2019-04/03/c_137946911.htm