I Was an English Teacher in a Japanese Insane Asylum - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 2 (Life in D-40)

I should have entitled this blog post, "I was a Teenage Monster English Teacher in a Japanese Insane Asylum..." But, nah. That would have sounded like I was teaching at public school.

(This is part two of a series about my experiences in drug rehab in Japan. To read the first part, please refer to: Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 1 (Life in the Cooler) Upon Arrival to Rehab Everyone Must Detox in the Feared Cooler.)


Lots of good folks teach English is Japan. I did too many years ago. I did it during the heyday of the bubble when English teachers were earning $50,000 (USD) a year doing that job.


Not only have I taught English to kids, businessmen and office workers. I have taught English at insane asylums. There's not too many English teachers in Japan who can make that claim. 


.......

Maybe thirty minutes or an hour or so after the doctors left my padded cell, three males nurses came in to see me. Two of them were carrying hard rubber batons and standing. Even though they towered over me, they were not in a threatening position or stance at all. The one in the middle crouched down to me and said very kindly, 

"Mike san! We are going to take you to D-40 now; the ward with the other patients. Now, like the doctor told you, if you fight or cause trouble, we'll have to put you back in here. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I understand. I won't cause any trouble."

The two male nurses with the rubber batons helped me up from my seated position as it was difficult to stand since my legs were numb form all that  sitting or laying down the entire time I was there in the cooler. Then, arms under both my shoulders, they helped me stagger out of the cooler. My wife would tell me later on that I was in the cooler for a total of four days. I have repeated in this blog every recollection of my time there.

We exited the cooler and I could see that there were two other coolers next to mine. I could see into them but couldn't see any other patients. 

The walk to D-40 was a very short one. In fact, it was just up the hallway, perhaps not 10 meters. There was a glass sliding door like you'd see in front of a shower room and there we stopped for a second. The nurse repeated, "Now, don't cause trouble or we'll have to take you back to the cooler. You don't want to go back to the cooler, do you?"


"No!" I mumbled.


They opened the door. After days in the cooler, it was like a window into another world. I was standing in a black and white world and, across the threshold was a world in color. There I saw several people walking around and talking. There was a TV set on in the distance and several men were watching it. A group of other men were huddled by the window smoking cigarettes. A cleaning lady was mopping the floor. I took it all in. Humanity! Civilization!

THX exited the tunnel and came out into the natural world above ground

Have you ever seen that movie, THX1138 when, at the end of the movie, THX1138 escapes from the underground city and exits through a massive tunnel up to the surface world? Underground, There is no emotion; the civilization created by man is cold and everything is white and black. It is a suffocating environment. But when THX exits the tunnel, the bright sun is there and all the colors of nature. Birds fly by. You get the feeling that THX is Adam of the Old Testament's Genesis.


That's how I felt. I had just come from a place that was completely white and deadly silent with no life at all and just on the opposite side of a door not a skip from where I being held, life was buzzing. I was awestruck how these two seemingly totally opposite places could be so close together. When they told me that I'd go a ward called D-40, I expected a ten minute walk, through several locked gates and up and down stairs, more hallways and through guard posts. But no! It wasn't an 8 second walk.


I was back with normal people and others like me who had a drug or alcohol problem. I was back with people who I thought I could talk to and relate to.... 


Normal people, right? Normal people...or so I thought.

Soon after, my doctor and some nurses came to see me and they gave me orientation. They explained everything about Matsuzawa hospital and the ward, D-40, that was to be my home for the foreseeable future. They told me the rules for eating, socializing, cleaning up duty, everything. I was totally blown away when the doctor mentioned that "drug and alcohol rehabilitation patients are here together with patients who are suffering from schizophrenia and other mental disorders." I made a double-take. "What, doctor?" He confirmed what I thought I had heard. 


Now that scared me to death. I was thinking of that Stanley Kubrick movie the  Shining where Jack Nicholson chops his way through the door and yells, "Here's Johnny!" I almost peed my pants.


"Schizophrenic people? Crazy people*? Doc, you're kidding, right?" I knew lots of crazy people back home in Los Angeles, some of them were my friends and they were the scariest people you could know. But the doctor reassured me that it was alright. (*I was probably the craziest one there.)


"There are no violent people in this ward. Don't worry. Just mind your own business and follow the rules and everything will be fine." He said as he wrote something down on a clipboard.

I was relieved, sort of. It was better than the worst case scenario that I had envisioned. In my mind I had feared something like you see in American prison movies. You know, the new guy comes into the prison and every single prisoner suddenly stops what they are doing and silently stare at the new prisoner. Some want to kick the new boys a*s, others want him to be their sex toy; still some others want him to join their skinhead gang... But first, of course, he has to prove his worth by killing somebody. You know how in America different gangs are always joining up with each other to fight it out for territory, even in prison? That's what I feared. But it was nothing like that. No one seemed to care that the door had opened and someone new came in. They were all preoccupied with whatever it was they were doing.  


Besides the sound of the TV and people talking and smoking in the distance the only other movement was the cleaning lady. I surveyed the scene and thought, "Oh? This looks alright." Then, I looked to my right and there he was. Standing there was the guy who was going to make my life miserable in D-40. I would find out later that his name was Tanaka (not his real name). 


Tanaka wasn't a particularly big guy. He just looked like your typical Japanese salaryman. He didn't wear any glasses and he didn't smile. Actually, he looked like he was scowling all the time or that he was unhappy. I thought I could tell by his face that he was plotting something. But what?... Or was I being paranoid?

"Kill! Kill! Kill!"

Tanaka stood there, expressionless and stared at me. He didn't move. He just stared. I tried to act like I didn't see him and, looked right through him. As the nurses were taking me to the shower area, I sneaked a look back over my shoulder and saw Tanaka following us and staring straight at me, stone faced and not blinking. 


My heart and mood sank. Tanaka took a great interest in what I was doing. "I knew it! I just knew it!" I thought. What it was that I knew wasn't too clear to me at the time, but I was convinced that this Tanaka guy was going to make me very uncomfortable. Hell, he was making me extremely uncomfortable just by staring at me. I decided that I'd best ignore the guy... If I could.


D-40 wasn't an especially large area. There were about 40 inmates there, er, I mean 40 patients. It was a dormitory type of setup; the was a central nurse's station where patients were given roll call and daily drugs were administered to the patients. There was also a large living room area that could comfortably seat 25 men with a TV (that was constantly on) and that the patients sometimes fought over which channels to watch. If there ever was a Tokyo Giants baseball game on then the two 66-year-old guys got to watch that and no one argued with them.


That was a funny side note about those two old guys; they were like brothers. In the mornings or afternoon, they'd be fighting like little kids (they were like little kids as they had been interned since they were sixteen so they had no chance to grow mentally). Nearly everyday we could hear them fighting about this or that and really getting seemingly angry (well, as angry as old Japanese people do). But by the time the game was on air at night time, they'd be sitting side by side in front of the TV watching their favorite team, the Giants, play baseball... Just like kids. Just like brothers.


Besides the TV area there was a smoking area. This might strike westerners as unusual but, in Japan it is not. Whereas in the west, rehabilitation services might try to replace and addiction to alcohol or drugs with an addiction to god, Japan, a non-Christian nation, had no qualms about replacing drugs abuse with, well, drug abuse; namely tobacco.


I asked a doctor about this seeming contradiction once and he said to me, "Well, both smoking cigarettes and do drugs are bad for your health. But smoking cigarettes won't land you in prison." Most definitely. "Can't argue with that logic," I thought.


Aside from the smoking areas and the living room was a small cafeteria. It was just like a school cafeteria excepting each patient had an assigned seat and it was forbidden for them to move their chairs. I had the scariest looking Yakuza guy sitting in front of me. I called him "Mr. Halloween." He terrified me. He had tattoos all over him and was extremely tall and lanky like a human skeleton. The other patients seemed to be afraid of him too. He'd bark out someone's name and they'd immediately hand him all their bread every morning and he'd take it all back to his room and eat it. By the end of breakfast, Mr. Halloween would have a mountain of white bread on his tray. It seemed strange that this guy could be eating a whole loaf of bread everyday yet be skinnier than a rail! He was even more frightening when he smiled as he had lost all of his teeth excepting two and I guess that was from huffing paint thinner.


He looked at me and then looked at my bread and smiled and gave out a grunt. "Oh, sure. Here you go!" I handed my two slices of bread to him too. Like I said, for one, he scared the hell out of me and; for two, I hate white bread. It wasn't even toasted! Yeech! 


The guy wouldn't say much. Just bark out people's names. I never saw him hold a conversation but when he opened his mouth, I saw he terror of paint huffing. Huffing paint thinner will cause all your teeth to fall out. Even though everyone seemed afraid of him, he was very kind to me as, it has been my experience, that Yakuza in Japan are generally kind to foreigners. It might be the brotherly love of being an outsider in society. I was happy withe the situation and one time, when someone made a disparaging comment about foreigners at breakfast, he angrily turned around and barked at them and then he turned to me and smiled and, waving his hand, he said to me, 


"Ok! Don't mind! Don't mind!" I could see those crevices and holes in his teeth. Couple that along with his brightly colored tattoos and entire bizarre atmosphere of the place and this guy looked like he just steeped out of the set of Tim Burton's Nightmare Before Christmas  

Mr. Halloween really was a nice guy I'd find out later. But I'd wager a half a donut that the doctor's put me in front of him and asked him if he'd look out for me. I was too dopey and incoherent to understand what he said to the others, but he laid down the law and, when he did, the chickens ruffling in their coops suddenly grew silent. I was saved. No one was going to bully me. Thank god.


And, now, back to Tanaka. Like in real life, in this blog post too, I've been trying to avoid this guy, but, I can't. He is always hovering around somehere where you least expect him. After I had entered D-40 and quickly was allowed to shower and shave I went back out to D-40. There the nurses showed me my room. I didn't see Tanaka and felt a bit relieved. 


The rooms were like a university dorm set-up. Four guys were in one room and there were all sorts of rules that we had to follow: Lights on at 6 am and everyone out of bed and to the cafeteria for breakfast. Lights out and everyone in bed at 8 pm (I had no problem with that!) Also, no one could enter someone else's room unless they were invited. There were many others rules but those were the three most important. 


I put my stuff in my room and then laid down on the cot for a few moments. I tried to sleep but couldn't. I got up and decided that I'd explore D-40. That was a mistake. Because as soon as I walked into the public area, there was Tanaka waiting for me. He was upon on me like flies on a pile of sh*t. 


I saw him as he hurredly came towards me. He reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a business card. He then bowed to me and handed me the card and said, "I am Tanaka something-or-other." He then went on to tell me that he had graduated from Meiji University a very prestigious university and he "proved" it to my by showing me where that was written on his card. Confused, I accepted the card and acted like I was checking my pajama pockets for business cards and said, "Uh? I don't have any cards." He assured me that this was quite alright.


This business card exchange business really had me wondering. "Who is this guy? Does he work here or something? Is he a doctor or a doctor's assistant?"


Tanaka then invited me over to the living room where there was a table to play chess. "Would you like to pass the time by playing chess?" He asked me. I didn't really want to play chess. I didn't want to do anything. I just wanted to sit and vegetate but here was this guy trying to be nice to me so I said I'd play.

He was a terrible chess player. It wasn't even a contest. I beat him within 15 moves or so. After I said, "Checkmate!" He sat there for a good several minutes motionless and studying the board. With suddenness and abruptness he wiped the pieces off the board and proclaimed. "Okay. You won that time. We will play again. And, after the next game, you will teach me English."


"What!?" I thought. "No, man. I can't teach english Mr. Tanaka. I have no energy for that." I said.


"Why can't you teach me English?" he demanded, "I played chess with you." 


"Okay," I said in a flippant manner, "Here's today's English. Repeat after me: I don't want to teach English because I'm too f'ing tired."


Tanaka scowled at me and didn't repeat the sentence. Instead he said, "Why don't you teach me proper English?" 


"Look," I said, "We're in a hospital, I'm sick. You're sick. I haven't the energy to teach you anything and we have no materials or anything. I'm not going to teach English. I am here to recover not get stressed out." 


Tanaka would have none of it. He became more and more demanding. "I played chess with you and now you are not going to teach me English? You are an unfair person!"


This sort of conversation went over and over. For days he kept trying this tack. I wanted to say, "OK, Tanaka san, here's today's lesson: Why don't you get stuffed?" and left it at that. But this guy was insistent that I teach him English and he even mentioned that he was going to complain to the nurses about me. He said he was going to complain that I took advantage of him.


Finally after going back and forth for about ten minutes with this nonsense, I said, "Look, Tanaka san, I taught English for a few years in Japan. I hate teaching English. I just got out of the cooler. The last thing I want to do is to teach English to people in drug rehab at an insane asylum! Forget about it."


That didn't work either. He scowled more and became more demanding. This guy was nuts! He said, "Teach me English and I will pay you!"


"How are you going to pay me? You don't have any money!"


I can pay you after I get out of this hospital. You have my business card, don't you?"


Arrrggghhhhh! It was like arguing with a wall. I got up and said, "Sorry" and then raced back to the safety of my room. Tanaka was hot on my heels but, as soon as I got to the room, he knew the rules: No entering unless you are invited. 


This sort of thing went on my entire time in D-40 for the five days I was there. Tanaka was as persistent as hell! He just wouldn't leave me alone. Every third sentence out of his mouth was, "Please teach me English." Tanaka kept trying to get me to teach him and I kept saying, "No!" 


I must have said, "No!" 50 times a day everyday.


He would pester me in the mornings, then give up for a few minutes but be right back at it soon after. He'd try all sorts of different ways to trick me (?) In the mornings he'd ask me if I wanted to play cards or watch TV or share a snack. I'd say, "You promise you are not going to ask me about teaching you English, right?" He'd promise.


But sure as the sun would rise in east every morning, as soon as what it was that we were doing was over, he'd turn to me and say, "Please teach me English" or "If you teach me English, I will give you my white bread at breakfast" or "Okay. I won't ask you to teach me English after we play chess. So why don't you teach me English first and then we'll play chess after that."


The guy was nuts and he was driving me nuts. It figured. I was in a mental hospital. I guess it comes with the territory.


Like I said, this went on a hundred times in the short week I was in D-40. I often got so frustrated and almost angry that I wanted to complain to the doctors or the nurses but judged against it. I figured that the doctors and nurses were watching us (they were) and judging to see how we handle ourselves. That I was able to put up with Tanaka asking me the same dumb question hundreds of times without strangling him or raising my voice probably showed them that I was okay to be transferred to another ward.

On the fifth day in D-40, I woke up and all the other patients were complaining to the doctors. Word gets around fast; I was being transferred and I didn't even know about it. The other patients complained and wanted to know why they had to stay in D-40 while the new gaijin was getting transferred out so soon. They thought it was unfair!


I was happy to be away from Tanaka and English Lessons for Lunatics Book One as soon as possible.


I was told that I was to be transferred to D-41. That was a much better ward because, get this, I was told that there were "Women there!"


Jeez! What good is that going to do me? I'm a drug addict trying to recover in an insane asylum and I should be happy that there are women in my new ward!? Well, whoop-de-doo... I could imagine it then: Wild Sex Party and Japanese Insane Asylum!


Sounds like classic Japanese cinema!  




Part three of this series: Female Nurses, Schizophrenics and Jail Breaks! - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 3  http://bit.ly/xkitom

Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 1 (Life in the Cooler) Upon Arrival to Rehab Everyone Must Detox in the Feared Cooler

Today's blog post is the first in a series of articles about events that happened nearly 20 years ago; my time in drug rehabilitation in Japan. Today will be my first day - well, first few days. I want to write down my experiences for the five weeks total I was in rehab. 

This isn't a real alcoholic, I can tell. Real alcoholics don't 

bother tearing the labels off their bottle of booze

I entered rehab because of a serious addiction to speed. My daughter had just recovered from a nearly two year fight against cancer and it was a victory for me. During that time, not only was I paying well over $5000 a month for hospital bills (private hospital and my insurance company wouldn't pay for that), I had to support two other daughters by holding down several jobs at once. I look back now and do not know how I managed it all. I certainly could not do it again. The hardest part to admit about all this is that I was a speed addict. People think that speed addicts do that drug for fun; well, it may be fun at first but it soon becomes a habit like coffee or cigarettes. Towards the end of my ordeal, I was doing about $2000 a week in speed. 

I didn't do the speed to get high. If I didn't do the speed, I'd fall asleep. I had gotten to the point whereby, if I didn't do any speed, I couldn't just function normally again. What a miserable existence it was. 


Usually, drug rehab in Japan is, at the least, a three to six month ordeal. Many people are there for a year or two. Some people are in there for many years. There were two guys in the hospital that I was in that had been there since they were 16. They were 66 when I was there. Why they were there for so long is that, in Japan, if someone won't agree to be your guarantor and look  out for you after your release, then the state won't let you go. These guys had probably caused their families so much misery that no one wanted to see them again. They were guests of the state for more than 50 years. If they haven't died, they are still there.

There were many other people who had been in an out several times. One guy, who I called, "Mister Cool," told me that he had been admitted, released and readmitted a total of nine times. I'm sure he isn't the record holder either. Mister Cool was very cool, calm and collected. Everyone else was going crazy and climbing the walls to get out of that place, but not Mister Cool. He took it all in stride. I asked him if he wasn't anxious to get out of the hospital. He told me that he was. But he also added, "What's the point of rushing to get out of here? In no time, you're just going to wind up back inside."


I was in and out in five weeks. That seems short but when I was in, it seemed like an eternity. That I got in and out so quickly was because the doctors deemed that I wasn't so bad (I thought I was and I thought they were crazy) and, the longer one stays in rehab, the more difficult it is to return to society as a productive member. So the doctors wanted me out of there as soon as possible. Once in, I wanted out of there immediately and wondered why in the hell I ever volunteered to go in in the first place.  


I would have written down my experiences at that time but I was too messed up and couldn't see any future past the end of my nose. The only future I was looking forward to was my wife visiting in the hospital and bringing me chocolates everyday (former drug abusers usually get addicted to chocolate as chocolate gives a Dopamine rush like drugs do); eating food at the hospital cafeteria everyday and getting the hell outta that place. 

This is what I looked like at that time

At that time, I was a proud new student of life in the most famous drug rehab hospital in all of Japan: Matsuzawa Hospital. In fact, Matsuzawa Hospital was the most famous drug rehab center in all of Asia. It was said that if you went to Matsuzawa and "graduated" (meaning were released back into society - never to return) that was the same and just as difficult as getting into Japan's prestigious Tokyo University and graduating.


There are lots of "funny" things about Matsuzawa. To me, the funniest part of Matsuzawa Hospital is that they put people who were recovering drug and alcohol patients into the same wards as people who were patients due to having mental disorders such as schizophrenia and the like or being mentally disturbed (uh, everyone is mentally disturbed to a certain level). Me? I was a former druggie about to go straight. I was looking forward to it. Why was I looking forward to it? Because I had voluntarily admitted myself to this madhouse. I was sick of my life. I knew that I only had three choices: Go to prison, die, or go to drug rehab. Being a coward, I took what seemed the easiest route. When I later told the other patients in my ward that I had volunteered to enter drug rehab, they all thought that, surely, I must be the craziest one in the entire insane asylum.


I don't know about today, but in Japan at that time, if you voluntarily entered into drug rehab, unlike the USA, you don't leave until the doctor says it is OK. I didn't really understand that when I went in.

You kiddin' me? If the doctor looked like that, I'd never want to leave her behind

When I was admitted into the hospital, I had no clue as to what to expect. I was asked to lay on a stretcher. The next thing I knew was I was being strapped in. I didn't fight it. I thought strapping people to a stretcher was for safety as, "Maybe they are going to carry me and I don't want them dropping me!" The next thing I knew is the doctor pulled out this massive syringe and was about to give me an injection that looked to be the size of a can of Coke.


The doctor began injecting the liquid into my arm. 


"Ha!" I laughed. I knew I was tougher than this. I was a hard core druggie and I was a foreigner. My body size was much larger than these puny Japanese! "This pharmaceutical grade stuff is for woosies! I've been doing the best!" I thought... 


I said to the doctor with a laugh, "Doc, you're going to need stronger stuff... That's not going to work on me, my friend!" The doctor just smiled at me and nodded in agreement as he continued injecting me....


I was determined to stay conscious. I repeated to the doctor, "I'm............ made of..... much tougher..... stuff...than... ZZZZZZ.... zzzzzzz >snork!<... zzzzzzzz......."


Out like a light. Off to baby bumpy nigh-nigh land....

As I said, I would have written these experiences down on paper and pencil when I was first admitted but I was too screwed up and I think they didn't allow people to have writing materials (for reasons that might become obvious later). Perhaps writing materials were forbidden because people would have figured out a way to stab themselves or someone else with the pencil or maybe they'd commit suicide by hanging with a pad and pencil? Or maybe they would have been slipping notes under the nurses' station window that said stuff like, "Get me outta here!" or "How about calling out for a delivery of a quart of Jack Daniels, eh, sugar tits?"

Gratuitous photo of sexy girls dressed like Nazi guards

When one first goes into rehab, they are put into "the cooler." The cooler is like what you see in these World War II movies; Allied soldiers captured by the Germans who make trouble at the prisoner of war camps are sent to detention in "za kooler" by the camp kommandant. People who were in the hospital for drug rehabilitation are put into the cooler because, I was told later, that many of them get really violent and so they are placed there for a few days, under heavy sedation, until they can get some of the chemicals out of their bloodstream and calm down. 

The cooler was a small room not tall enough to stand up straight in and just barely large enough to lay down in. I supposed two or three people - or maybe four could be squeezed into one room. All four walls and ceiling and floor were padded. Of course, like in a movie, the room was completely white. There were no windows and there was a connecting segment that had a toilet in it. There was no door on the toilet nor any way to flush the toilet. It reeked. The door was heavy steel with a small window that had bars on it and there was a slot at the bottom of the door for food to be passed through.

The Goon Tower at Matsuzawa Hospital

After getting my injection of sedative, I passed out dead to the world. Later, I awoke. I had no idea how long I was out. I had no idea what time of day it was. Was I out a few hours or a few days? I'm still not sure to this very day. I awoke in the cooler. I was laying on my side and, even though I was conscious, I couldn't move. Not just my body, I couldn't move my head, my fingers, anything. I was no longer in a straight jacket, it's just that my motor functions had completely stopped due to the elephant tranquilizer they gave me. By golly those sedatives did work! My faith in big pharma had been restored!

There was a jangling at the door which was above my head and, since I couldn't turn my head, I couldn't see the door. Suddenly I was witness to the black shoes and white pants of 4 or 5 medical doctors and male nurses. They were all mumbling about something. They crouched in front of me and one doctor pried open my eyelids and flashed a flashlight into my eyes. First right, then left. He held the back of my neck. Another doctor was checking my pulse. The doctor said, "Are you okay?"...

This must be a luxury cell. For one, you can stand up in it and 

it is at least 5 times bigger than my cell was.

I wanted to say, "Yes, doctor. I am fine." But I couldn't. My brain was processing the information but there must have been a problem in the synapse department because when my brain ordered my mouth to say, "I'm ok" all that came out was "Gurglllkkkkdxxx" and a heck of a lot of slobber... I couldn't respond. I had become human jello like the blob in those 1950's science fiction movies.

The main doctor looked at me for a moment and then, with a sigh, said to the other doctors, "Not yet." With that, they all stood up and walked out of the cooler their farewells were the jangling of the keys locking the door behind them.

Slam! Echo. Silence....


My brain was shouting like a lost trapped teenager screaming to his friends who were searching for him yet walking right by as they couldn't hear his cries. "Hey guys! No! Wait! I'm okay! Come back, guys!" I was jumping up and down against the door railing in my mind, but, in all actuality, I was still laying there on my side unable to make even the most basic motor reaction. "Maybe they could read Morse Code if I blink my eyes correctly?" I thought.


Drool... "Come back guys!" But I was tired... So tired... Close my eyes and then back to wonderful sleep...


This situation continued for the next day or two. It got so bad that since I could not move myself, I soiled my clothes. My wife tells me that she came to the hospital and visited the cooler while I was out cold and cleaned and changed me. I guess that is typical and how things are done in Japan. I do know that it is true at Japanese hospitals that family will often come and give invalid family members baths and change clothes. That my wonderful wife did this for me I will always be thankful for even thought I don't remember it at all. My wife would later tell me that I was in the cooler for at least "4 days or so."


The next day, the doctor's came back in. In their previous visit I was so angry at myself because I was still unable to respond coherently to their questions. I promised myself that the next time I saw them, I'd be able to respond and show them that I was okay. I wanted desperately to get out of the cooler as soon as possible. And it was obvious that if you couldn't at least say, "Hi doc!" they weren't going to let you out of the cooler. So I began practicing talking and saying words. Kind of like a self-enforced linguistic rehabilitation.


After a while, I guess a few days, I was finally able to sit up by myself.... Or, at least, what I thought was close to sitting up. I tried to listen to the door so that I could hear the footsteps of the doctors before they came to my door. I figured that this holding area where to cooler was has at least three or four or five other coolers next to mine filled with occupants who, like me, were unable to control any of their motor functions or their bladder. Maybe that's why the place reeked so bad.


At length, the jangling of the keys woke me from my trance. I tried to sit up very straight and I shook my head to try to sober up. The doctors came in and went through their ritual. 


The doctor said, "How are you doing?"


This time I really made the effort to speak clearly but I still even had trouble just lifting my head. I gathered up every bit of strength I had and yet, all I could do was mumble and drool. Again my brain was saying the words but my mouth couldn't do the movements. "Urgh..gxxsnyxxx..." 


The doctor looked at the other doctors and to my horror said, "Not yet" and they all stood up and walked out again. 


In my mind, I panicked, "No! I'll be okay in a minute! Just let me get dressed and splash some water on my face, guys! Come back!" 


Slam. Jangle. Clink. Jangle. They were gone in a flash. I was alone again in hell. Still, exhausted. Once again, I fell to sleep.


After a while I was awoken again by noise at the door. "The doctors!" I thought, "They've changed their minds and have come back to let me out!" I was so happy! But it wasn't the doctors. It was the sound of food being pushed through the slot under my door. I grew angry at this. I went over to look at the food they had given me. It was some sort of rice gruel. In Japan and China, rice gruel is often given to sick people as it is easily quite digestible. I hated rice gruel. 

That they'd walk off and then serve me rice gruel started me off to getting even more angrier the more I thought about it. I started to work myself into a huff. I think about that now and that was a sure sign that the tranquilizers were wearing off. The more I thought about my situation, the more pissed off I began to get. "Who do they think they are putting me into the cooler like this? What is this rice gruel, crap? Don't they know I hate rice gruel?" I decided that I wanted, no demanded to speak to the doctor. How dare they do this to me! I demanded my rights.


I pulled myself up to the door and tried to peek out through the bars at the top (like Steve McQueen did in Papillon) to see if I could see and doctors or nurses running around. But I couldn't see anyone. I began to loudly proclaim all the typical things you see people in the movies say when they are in incarceration:


"Hello! Hello! Anyone there? Hey! I need to talk to the doctor. There's been some sort of misunderstanding. I shouldn't be in here! Hello!" But I couldn't see anyone and the area outside of my cell was silent. I kept speaking, out, louder and louder, almost shouting for awhile, but it was no avail. I considered really screaming bloody murder at the top of my lungs, but didn't. I thought there was no use. There was no one there. I figured that no one could hear me.  Thank god I didn't throw a temper tantrum and start banging on the bars and doing stupid things like throwing my food around or banging the bars with the food plate like a caged ape. I'd find out the next day that they could hear me but allowed me to say and do as I pleased. I was under observation. 


I gave up and sat back down. I was still mad though. I looked over to the rice gruel and decided then and there that I was going to show them. I was going to turn the tables on these wicked people. I was going to gain my release through the peaceful protest methods of the greats like Mahandas Gandhi: I was going to go on a hunger strike and then, next to death, I'd become a world famous celebrity and they'd have to release me.

Been there. Done that. I figured this guy and I had a lot in common!

Yes. That's the ticket! I'd starve myself out of there. I wouldn't eat anything until those doctors came back and started begging me to eat something... I could see it all. Imagine, me! Me as the serious and devout man with a cause and those stinking doctors begging for mercy! They be begging for me to eat. I'd be on the covers of Time and Newsweek magazine! I'd be the world leader of an entirely new protest movement! (I think about that now and realize that the sedative must have been wearing off because I was back to having crazy thoughts of grandeur and delusion!)


"Hmph! That's fix them!" I thought. So I sat there having decided that I wouldn't touch the food. That warm food that, actually smelled pretty good. I began having conversations in my head. There was an angel of my good conscious on my right shoulder and the devil sitting on my left. The three of us began to argue.


"Come to think of it, I am pretty famished as I hadn't eaten anything in three or four days!"


"No! You coward! You'll never get out of here if you give into their tricks!"


"He's right, you know. For all you know that food is laced with more sedatives and mind control drugs. They want you to eat it. That's part of their 'plan.'"


"But, you know, my wife really likes that rice gruel stuff. I've never really cared for it. But it does smell pretty good."


"What? What kind of thoughts are these? You've just started a hunger strike and you've lasted maybe 15 minutes and you're giving up already? Don't you have any respect for yourself."


"Yeah? Don't you have any respect for yourself?"


I knew it. Those guys were right. So I stuck with the two out of three guy's opinion and decided to stick it out with my hunger strike. For one, I wanted out of there. For two, I hated rice gruel. If it had been something like fried chicken I think I might have listened to whoever it was who wanted food (I think the wimpy one was me).


So I gave up again and, determined to go on hunger strike, at least until the doctors came the next day, I laid back down in an attempt to sleep and forget about my troubles and the food. When the doctors came in the next day and saw that I hadn't touched my food, they'd become alarmed and, I figured, then we could negotiate on even terms.


I tried to sleep but damn if my stomach didn't stop growling. I was starving. I went back and forth with myself trying to fight the urge to eat, but, after several hours I was so famished I couldn't stand it no more. I had to eat.


I felt like that guy in Midnight Express who was so hungry that he ate a cockroach to survive. I was so hungry that I could do the same! ER, not eat a cockroach, but to eat rice gruel which was almost as bad (at least in my book!)


I jumped to the door and grabbed the spoon and wolfed down a huge bite of gruel. "Yeech! This stuff is cold!" I thought. But it tasted pretty good! "Dammit! I thought, "Why didn't I eat this when it was hot?"


Within a few seconds I had downed the food. I even licked the plate. I put the plate back at the door and tried to peer through. "Thank you! Anyone! That was delicious! Hello! That was delicious!" There was no one there.

A stomach half full and nothing to do, I fell back asleep. I don't remember how much time passed but I do remember later thinking that there might have been sedatives in the food, but, no! That would be a quite inefficient way to administer drugs. They had me locked up. I wasn't going nowhere. They could come in and give me pills or injections and there'd be nothing I could do about it. Why would they lace the food with drugs?


After a while I had to go to the toilet so I saw the spartan settings for the first time. There was only a wash basin and toilet. As I mentioned, after using the toilet, I had no way to flush it so the room stank even more. I tried to yell for someone to flush the toilet out through the bars in my door, but there was no one to hear my cries. Again, I fell asleep.


The next day, the doctors came back. This time I was determined to shape up so that I could ship out. 


The doctor looked at me and said, "You look better today. How are you doing?"

I sat up as straight as I could and drooled out a weak but recognizable, "Fine, doctor.... Thanks to you!" 

I thought I needed to add a, "Thanks to you" to show that I was coherent enough to know that I needed to show some appreciation to get myself outta that place. I figured I'd do some a*s kissing now and play my aces when the time was right. I was satisfied that I was able to give the answer I had planned. 

The doctor then said to me, "Mike. We are going to take you out of here today and put you in a ward with other patients, But if you get violent, you're coming right back in here, do you understand?" 

"Oh stay my beating heart!" I thought but "Yes, doctor." I answered. "I won't be violent."

"We are sending you to unit D-40 where there are other patients. You'll be able to take a shower, shave and have your own room that you will share with other patients. If there is any trouble at all you will be brought back here. You'll be able to eat in the cafeteria and if you have any questions, the nurses will help you. Okay?"

"Okay. Thanks." I said.

"We will give the order to bring you out of here to the male nurses and they will take you out before lunch time. Please immediately wash and get ready for lunch."

"Yes. Thank you."

The doctors got up and walked out. I was so happy! Freedom! I was going to be free from this wretched place! But I wondered what kind of place D-40 was? Was it like a regular hospital where I could walk in and out as I pleased? Or was it more of a military style place much like the World War II prisoner of war camps that things like the cooler were known to accompany?

I grew a bit anxious. Suddenly D-40, while sounding better than the cooler, struck fear in my heart. What if it were like a prison where the inmates have their own pecking order and boss? What if I were thrown into a place with a bunch of drug addicts and former Yakuza who didn't like foreigners?

Was I about to become the whipping boy and someone's bitch in D-40? Was I going to be waking up every morning with an empty bottle of baby oil knocked over near my head, a sore a*shole and an ashtray on my back? What horrors were awaiting me? 


I had a few hours to find out. 


It was in D-40 and my next experiences that I was to find out that my next ward was not so much like a prison in the movies or like a gestapo prisoner of war camp, but much more like an insane asylum ala the classic film, One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. Why? Because in Japan, drug addicts and mental patients are co-mingled in the same hospitals and in the same wards.

I didn't know that when I checked in. I was about to go from the frying pan into the fire.

Continued in Part 2: I Was an English Teacher in a Japanese Insane Asylum - Drug Rehab at Asia's Most Famous Hospital - Part 2 (Life in D-40)

Making Examples of Porn Stars - Another Person's Life Ruined by Japan's Drug Laws

Once again a person's life in Japan is ruined by laws concerning a victimless crime. Japanese porn star and sex symbol, Minako Komukai, has fled the country because a warrant for her arrest has been issued due to alleged violation of stimulant control laws.


It's just another circus and travesty of justice. Don't the police have anything better to do?


I understand completely that this is Japan and people have to follow the rules and laws of the country, but that doesn't mean that people living here shouldn't consider what is or isn't a crime. She allegedly did some drugs, fer chrissakes. She didn't hurt anyone except herself. There is no victim here.


Laurence Vance puts it succinctly, "Just as every husband needs a wife, every child needs a parent, and every teacher needs a pupil, so every crime needs a victim. Not a potential victim or possible victim or a supposed victim, but an actual victim."


The Tokyo Reporter has the story about Japanese Sex Idol and porn star, Minako Komukai, having a warrant issued for her arrest for violating the stimulant control law of Japan. It the second time she has been charged with violating this victimless crime law. 

Of course, all the Japanese media are talking about is Minako Komukai's porn career using this case as some sort of evidence that porn is bad (all the while using it as the excuse to talk about this incident and garner ratings). Maybe porn is bad, but some porn actresses in Japan make over $3 million (USD) annually, so "thar's money in those hills!" (pun intended).


In my own survey, 97% of all men have viewed porn. The other 3% are liars.


Forgive me while I make light of a very serious situation and a big problem in Japan.


The Japanese media examines the question, "Who is Minako Komukai?" But the questions should be, "Who cares?" and "Why should I care what somebody I don't even know puts into their own body?" 


When I compain about a "very serious situation here," I'm not complaining exactly about the problem of drug abuse. I'm complaining about the problem of spending tax money on sending people to prison for committing a victimless crime.


The Tokyo Reporter writes:  

The organized crime division of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police yesterday issued a warrant for the arrest of gravure idol and actress Minako Komukai for violation of the Stimulant Control Law, reports the Mainichi Shimbun (Feb. 9).

Investigators today revealed that she has since fled the country. This is her second drug violation.

Wire service Jiji reports that Komukai, 25, is accused of purchasing stimulants last summer from an Iranian drug ring in Tokyo. One member of the group, who was arrested in October, confessed that she was a regular customer.

Her Twitter account stopped being updated on Jan. 14. The site The Real Live Web notes that one of her last public appearances included AV (porn) production company Soft On Demand’s porn awards show on Dec. 18.

I won't mention how I think this is ridiculous that they'd issue an arrest warrant merely on the  the hearsay evidence of a drug dealer under custody... She hasn't had a court trial and they want to arrest her? 


That seems bad enough, but this is not the point of this article. 


I think it is terrible that this poor woman has to flee the country and ruin her already painful existence with this alleged victimless crime. It's bad for her and it's a huge waste of time and expense for an already taxed out Japanese public.

Think about it, this woman is a porno actress. Just about every one of these people come from broken homes and ply their trade for as long as they can while they are young. It is obvious that appearing in these sorts of movies cannot be a long term money earner. In my most possibly confused thinking, I believe that these people, bless their souls, are not happy people and have had tough childhoods; broken families, parents with alcohol abuse, etc.

If this woman were your daughter, wouldn't you feel guilty that you didn't raise her the way you should have and taught her better self-respect and to know that her body is a treasure for herself and her god? 

I am not a Christian, but even in the bible it says, "What? know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own? For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God's." Corinthians 6:19-20

If you were her parent, wouldn't you go to your grave knowing that you could have done more for her happiness? Actually, this is the lament of all parent's everywhere.

Now, she is threatened with going to prison because she committed the victimless crime of doing drugs? Has this hurt you or me at all because she did drugs? How has she damaged anyone but herself?

Video of her arrested in 2009

Speaking from experience, and, if you've ever done any drugs, or drank too much, for too long, then you should be able to relate to what I am saying: People who abuse their bodies like this have quite enough problems as it is, thank you, without having to worry about going to prison for 5 years because they committed the "crime" of drug abuse.

You'd think that with the Japanese government running a budget deficit of over 200% of GDP they'd find something better to do with precious public funds and be out chasing real criminals and not wasting tax payer monies on ruing the life a some girl who's life is a mess enough as it is.

She is doing speed? So what? As long as she doesn't bother anyone else, that's her body, it's her choice. She doesn't need to be arrested, if anything she needs compassion and needs help.

It is not the government's duty to give her either. 

It certainly isn't practical for the government to destroy her already nearly ruined life and make a situation whereby she - or no one close to her - can help her. 

What happens when she goes to prison? Her life is ruined because she won't be able to reform and get a job and return to society. What happens if she gets help or rehabilitation? Then she may be able to get her life in order and return to society as a productive individual.

Ruining her life and making her a liability and guest of the state and tax payers helps no one.

These laws need to change.




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