Week 1

According to the White Pages, there literally thousands of Johnsons in Little Rock (of a approximate total of 184,000 residents). Johnson is the second most common surname in the United States. In the twenty three months that I have been a Johnson, I have grown accustomed to meeting and working with lots of other Johnsons. To be a Johnson in Little Rock—really, a Johnson anywhere in the United States—basically means that you’ll blend in with the crowd.

But being a Johnson in Jilin is a little different. It implies standing out, not fitting in, especially for a taller than average white girl, who can only count to ten and say “Thank You” and “Hello” in Mandarin. There are lots of Lees and Lius, but I have yet to meet another Johnson, or find someone who can pronounce my first name.
No matter how much time I spend here, my name is not going to change. I’ll always be American-born and bred, and even if I learn to speak like the natives, I’ll never look like a local. But for now, I am here to learn—and to enjoy tofu, squid, pickled cabbage, and rice soup, to stroll along the river at night watching old woman play hacky-sack and teenage boys play badminton, and to hear the stories of the doctors and nurses at the Bo Hua Hospital. I am here to learn what I can bring and give and take in this new place with new tastes, new smells, new faces, and new friends.

Since I arrived on June 9th, I have scrubbed in to watch a few surgeries, visited a traditional medicine clinic in a rural village, watched a teenage girl receive acupuncture, and toured three hospitals. I am trying to take in as much as possible before actually making any recommendations or doing any real work for the hospital here. I am still at the steepest part of the learning and adjustment curve and eagerly anticipating the weeks to come.