A Breathless Night in Tokyo: Our Emergency Room Saga

I have lots of travel stories and am very grateful for all that I have been able to see and experience in this world—the good, the bad, and the ugly. This story is one of the more unfortunate ones. I’m not sure whether to call it a “bad” story or an “ugly” one. I’ll let you decide.

We arrived in Japan on the 14th, and by the 16th, we were in the hospital.

Our first evening in Japan was uneventful. We found our Airbnb and a nearby 7-Eleven. On the 15th, we noticed something was off with Kendrick. At first, we weren’t too concerned; kids get sick all the time. Plus Daniel and I weren’t sitting together on the plane to Tokyo, and his new seat mate was a sick baby. Despite trying to keep his distance, it’s hard to avoid germs in economy.

The first warning signs were raspy breathing, a few coughs, and Kendrick starting to lose his voice. We still weren’t overly worried, Kendricks had a cough before. I have videos of him crawling around after eating a snow cone, panting a bit. We thought it was just a sore throat and hoped some sleep in the stroller in Shinjuku would help.

ut he didn’t sleep it off. The combination of the sore throat and jet lag had us up at 1:00 and 4:00 in the morning. Things quickly got worse. At 1:00 AM, I tried to comfort him, hoping sleep would help. He had completely lost his voice and could only gasp for air. It sounded like he couldn’t breathe.

I knew we were in trouble. I remember thinking that if we were in the States, we would be in the emergency room right now. But Kendrick fell asleep, so I decided not to wake him or anyone else. I hoped things would improve by morning.

At 4:00 AM, I was first relieved he was still breathing, then I thought it shouldn’t be that hard to breathe. Daniel woke up shortly after and confirmed we needed to see a doctor immediately. We grabbed a bottle, the stroller, and ran out the door.

In the rain, we speed-walked to the nearest 24/7 emergency room. They were open… sort of. We rang the doorbell, and a nurse answered. Using Google Translate, we explained:

Us: “We are concerned that our son can’t breathe.”

Her: “There are no doctors here. You have to call the fire department to find out which hospitals have doctors at this time.”

Us: “We don’t speak Japanese. Can you help us call?”

Her: “Yes.”

I wish I could properly convey how much this nurse meant to me at that moment. She might have been our savior. She invited us into the lobby, turned on the lights, and called the fire department. We were there for about 45 minutes. She took Kendrick’s temperature, got our information and asked about symptoms. She had heard his labored breathing, and was visibly concerned as well.  She arranged for us to go to Saint Luke’s International Hospital and let them know we were coming.

The hospital seemed huge, but we headed straight for the emergency center. The staff spoke great English, so we didn’t need to use our phones to communicate.

Kendrick was asleep when we met the doctor, but his condition was audible. His breathing was so loud, and he was sucking in with each breath.

This next part was both the greatest relief and the most confusing. His oxygen levels were excellent, and his lungs sounded normal. We were all surprised, this was good news but it didn’t explain why he sounded like he was struggling to breathe.

We did some “inhalation treatments” where the staff put solutions into a breathing mask to help. After two treatments, we still had no answers. We asked about croup. The doctor seemed unfamiliar with it at first but then brushed it off. She told us what to watch for and to return if things got worse.

$900 later, we had no definitive answers. We left with days’ worth of decongestants, a steroid for croup (despite the doctor’s skepticism), and a clear syrup.

The prescriptions came in a powder form to be mixed with water. Which was new to us but didn’t seem too hard. We were wrong. The first time, we used too much water and spent 30 minutes trying to get Kendrick to take 7 full syringes of diluted medicine.

He still sounded rough after a day of decongestants, so we gave him the steroid on the third day. He improved quickly, though it’s unclear if it was due to the steroid or just time. He still crawled, played, and smiled as if everything was okay. We had to constantly remind ourselves that despite how he sounded, his oxygen levels were good. He could breathe.

This is not the travel experience I thought I would write about, nor would I recommend this to anyone visiting Japan. But hey, we learned some things. Apparently you call the fire department to find Doctors in Japan, medicine is powdery, and travel insurance might be a good idea.

A special shout out to our wonderful travel companions for being flexible with our travel plans. They rebooked our Disneyland Tokyo tickets while we were with the Doctor and helped us make the most of the day.