Fallows reports:
I know my doctor’s name in Chinese, but I don’t see it anywhere in the all-Chinese signs and listings. So I send him a text message on my mobile phone saying that I have arrived. A minute later, a teenager wearing sandals, khaki pants, and an untucked shirt walks up – listening to an iPod. This is my doctor. We walk up the concrete stairs to a little anteroom on the next floor. He has me sit on a stool and he looks closely at my nose. "I think – electricity!" he says, in English. "I ask the surgeon." He disappears.
The Dish 