Dateline: Saniku Gakuin College in Ōtaki, Chiba, Japan; September 20, 2012--A hot bath! Now, that’s about the last thing one would want in Japan at this time of the year. Upon my arrival at Narita International four weeks ago, it felt as if I had arrived back in Alabama on the most gnarly day of an insufferable summer. As the weary passengers shuffled and wrestled their carry-ons up the cool aisles after a 13 hour flight from New York, we hit a hot wall of pure humidity. Japan had become one seamless onsen from Kagoshima to Aomori and I was dressed for 38,000 feet. And now a hot bath?

No, I am not taking the hot bath. I have been called many things, masochist not being one of them. It is practice time and my only male student is cooking (practicing a hydrotherapy treatment) a volunteer up here in Chiba prefecture at Saniku Gakuin, a college formerly known as Japanese Missionary College. A few years ago, in order to build their staff as they transitioned to four year level, I was added to the teaching staff. The idea was to introduce 4th year nursing students to what once was a cornerstone of the nursing experience; hydrotherapy and other simple remedies. It is all well and good to have all the modern medical conveniences at your beck and call, but what happens when the pharmacy is closed or non-existent? What happens when you find yourself far from the smell of isopropanol and betadine? It would seem prudent to at least be familiar with the rudiments of the physiology of water and its amazing salutary affects upon the body. 

The goal in this practice is to raise the student’s temperature to around 40 degrees celsius (104^oF) without causing cardiac arrest, projectile vomiting or unconsciousness. Having never experienced any of these exceedingly rare consequences in my years of practicing this type of therapy, I am more intent in the proper procedures, the sense of the patient’s needs and the treatment’s requirements.

The volunteer is a young man I met last year. He is a theology student although be has no intention of becoming a pastor. He graduated from university with a degree in architecture. But that did not seem to fulfill him so he went in to retail sales and was very successful for ten years. But something was still missing. He came to this stark realization one day while waiting for a train. As it approached the station, he felt compelled to throw himself over the tracks. In Japan, this happens at least once a week. He knew he was in trouble. He felt compelled to go to a church. Finding one, he sought out the pastor who just happened to be on the grounds. He told the pastor of his dissatisfaction and his earlier compulsion to end his life. Right then and there the pastor told him of the great hope a Christian has, of a Burden-Bearer and a Friend at all times. When he finished, this young man asked to be baptized. The wise pastor knew that would not be wise so he began Bible studies with the restless young man. He was later baptized and decided to come to Saniku to pursue theology, not as a profession but rather to gain a deeper understanding of this Power that saved his life. And now he was approaching 104^o. 

It has been a very busy schedule since arriving in Japan. Needless to say, with eleven time zone changes, jet lag is always waiting to pounce on me a couple days after arriving. It is strange that it waits two or three days, lulling me into a mistaken sense that I have grown immune to its overwhelming weight. So, having arrived on a Thursday afternoon, I had a pretty good Friday and Sabbath. Then Sunday, the day our seminar for cancer patients began at a large Woman’s Cultural Center, jet-lag squished me like a bug. I am not immune. Moretocome.