I used to think Japan’s healthcare system was amazing — cheap, efficient, and perfect if all you need is a quick fix for a mild cold. That rose-tinted view crashed and burned on July 18, 2023, when I collapsed at work and ended up in the ER.

Over the next month, I’d visit the ER about ten times, with symptoms ranging from sky-high blood pressure to muscle weakness and unexplained fevers. The labs showed obvious red flags — low phosphate, low sodium, elevated CRP, wacky white blood cells — yet, after the 8th visit or so, the doctors insisted I trot off to a psych ward instead of returning to the ER. I was literally told this “Kondo, koko ni konaide,” which translates to “next time, don’t come here” (The ER).

Because clearly, if you can’t figure it out, it must be all in your head. Just like that Japanese teenage girl who was sent home from the ER and later died.

In this hospital… Wait, I haven’t mentioned the name. Let me start again. In NAGAOKA’S RED CROSS HOSPITAL (長岡赤十字病院), I consulted with an endocrinologist and a neurologist. One of the endocrinologists was such a great sport he basically yelled at me in five-minute sessions before shoving me out the door. Bless his heart.

After a month and a half of running in circles at this hospital, I flew back to my home country for testing — because guess what? You don’t need a doctor’s permission slip to get labs done if you’re willing to pay. Armed with my PhD in Biomedical Sciences, I made a list of conditions:

Wilson’s disease
Cholangitis
Autoimmune liver disease

It had to be one of those three.

I shelled out about $3,000 in tests, got on corticosteroids for unexplained hypoglycemia (which eventually turned out to be avitaminosis, or multiple vitamin deficiencies), and lo and behold, my Free Copper was a cool 680 mcg/dL when the normal is 1–2.

Wilson’s disease it is.

But hey, maybe I should’ve just listened to the ER docs and checked myself into a psych ward, right? After beginning the proper meds, I returned to Japan only to find my condition started to worsen again, especially after I stopped taking corticosteroids. Something else was going on on top of Wilson’s Disease. Shit.

This time around I switched to Niigata University Hospital, expecting elite care. They were cool at first but eventually started getting rolled eyes and five-minute brush-offs as soon as they noticed their repeated standard bloodwork wasn’t saying anything. Only a fool would do the same thing over and over expecting different results. One of them called me crazy (in a very indirect, Japanese way, of course) for noticing I had daily liver inflammation and pain, always happening around 4 o’clock after a day of heavy meals.

It’s almost like there’s a cash bonus for sending people to psych wards.

Because of the doctors’ “What the hell do I do with this guy?” attitude, I went into full research mode again and narrowed the current set of symptoms to SIBO, enteropathy, eosinophilic gastroenteritis, or a Mast Cell disorder.

The first three? Negative. Paid over $1,000 for the tests, too. I then tried to have them move for mast cell disorder tests, but apparently that was too much trouble, even if paying out of pocket.

My allergist then suggested to try at Tokyo University Hospital, but even the immunologist at the Center for Immune Diseases there turned me away because they don’t have an allergist — since, you know, mast cells belong to a parallel dimension and not the immune system.

After calling 20 other hospitals and getting the usual “We cannot perform testing for mast cell disorders” (It’s literally just a blood and urine test), I gave up, flew home again, and paid out of pocket for the tests. Surprise: my histamine, tryptase, and urine PGD2 levels were all higher than Snoop Dogg at the end of any normal day.

Another successful diagnosis by yours truly. Go me!

If you’re in Japan and suspect you have something beyond a common cold, brace yourself for the medical runaround. Or do what I did and get out of Dodge, because your life isn’t worth the bureaucratic shrug. In a place lauded for having “the best healthcare ever,” the reality can be far less glamorous once you actually need comprehensive help. If I’ve learned anything, it’s this: Get a PhD in Biomedical Sciences, save some money, and diagnose yourself.

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