In case you didn’t know, or don’t normally read this site, I live in England where I am working on my PhD.
Last week I injured my middle finger on my left hand. I presumed it was just a “jammed” finger - these things heal within a day or so and life moves on. However, my finger continued to swell and bruise all over, and soon became rather painful. I chose to take an adventure and see the doctor.
First of all, I want people to understand that Universal Healthcare is not free. We have one income right now, and our family pays roughly $222 per month for the National Health Service (when I am also employed, this cost will rise to about $873 per month for both of us). I also want you to realise that this is our our of pocket expense in taxes and does not include any additional fees, co-payments or bribes. This is currently MORE than we paid in the US for private cover (but less than what was paid in total for us - employer paid some of the premium).
The Good
Anyway, the clinic near my university is extremely nice. The paint is new, the doors are made of glass and there is an automated system for letting them know you have arrived. The reception area is lit by those hip, soft, little round lights. It’s like walking into a nice business office. This is because the facility basically just gives out contraception and deals with the young and healthy - but its financial distribution from taxes is huge. The clinic is in a nice neighbourhood and it has a large amount of patients and the funding that comes with that (nearly every student registers with this clinic). For those in the US, imagine what a public school would look like if it got funding for 2,000 students, but only needed resources to teach 300 - and to those it only taught reading (no sports, no math, no PE, no expensive chemistry ingredients). That school could paint the walls with diamond dust.
Anyway, the nurse I see has no idea what is wrong with my finger. She is not trained to handle this sort of thing. So she pulls a favour with one of the doctors who (fortunately) didn’t have anything to do at the moment. He looks at my finger and concludes that its fractured, and gives me a pink piece of paper which will get me an x-ray at one of two hospitals in a city of just under one million people.
It takes me about an hour to find parking. The hospital has NO parking. If you want to park for free, you must scour the neighbourhoods a half-mile away and farther and then walk (hope you aren;t at the hospital for your legs or feet). If you want to pay (and the hospital DOES NOT validate), you may pay roughly $5 per hour and park on the street (again, still difficult to find).
The Bad
The hospital is one of the grossest working buildings I have every been in. There is no air-conditioning. The walls and floor are dirty. There is used gum stuck to various things. There are two types of signs on the wall that look like they are out of the 1960’s (probably were) 1) informing people of the fact that they will be waiting 2) telling them not to be rude, hostile, aggressive or violent. The lighting is dim, and several lights flicker or are not working.
I give my pink slip of paper to the reception in radiology and I am told to go to “waiting area 3.” I ask the receptionist how long I might be waiting - “not long” I am told.
The room I enter is even more disgusting. There is a thick layer of dust and dirt on the floor. The bright green (again 1960’s) chairs are torn. The cieling panels are broken and some have yellow stains on them. There is a broken table across from me with riped and torn magazines on it, and a big piece of chewed gum stuck on the front. The windows are so smeared that it is difficult to see out of them, and many have the insulation torn and hanging down in dried, cracked strips. Ants are crawling on the floor near my feet.
After waiting in this room with another person, I am called in an hour later for an x-ray. This doctor believs that I may have an “old injury” in my finger and also a torn ligament. He says that I’ll need to wait to see another doctor, this time in urgent care, who can tell me more. He gives me a piece of paper and tells me to give it to the receptionist there.
I have to leave to move my car so I don’t get a parking ticket (one thing the government seems to do well here). This takes about 45 minutes.
The Ugly
I go to urgent care. Again, the conditions are such that it takes me a moment to remember that I am in a hospital in one of the world’s richest countries. The walls are scratched and gouged. Large red signs warn against violence and aggression. There are police in the room. The reception is blocked by thick glass windows to prevent violence against the hospital workers. The chairs look a little newer (1986ish, I would say), but some are broken. The floor is dirty.
The receptionist takes my piece of paper and begins asking me a series of questions required by the government (meanwhile I am liberally soaking my hands in sanitiser) - some are normal: where I live, when I was born, etc… But some are a little more invasive: what do I do, what is my religion, what is my race, where was I born, etc… I then wait for another hour or so.
I am admitted to see another doctor. He tells me that I actually have a serious problem with my finger - that it is broken and also out of joint. He says that I need to see a specialist right away, because it is “unstable” and could be more severely damaged with just the slightest movement. He goes and tries to call a specialist but gets no answer. He gives up and then writes on a piece of paper “needs hand appointment ASAP” and tells me to give it back to the receptionist.
I go back into the main room and give the receptionist the doctor’s note. She passively takes it and sets it aside. She then dryly tells me that it will be at least a month before I can see a specialist. The government will make an appointment for me and call me with orders about where and when to go.
I leave the hospital at 3:30pm after starting my visits at 9:30am that morning. I have no concrete diagnosis, no appointment, nothing has been done, my broken (maybe?) finger is not taped, casted or otherwise treated, and I have no idea when the government will next be able to see me. I may be without treatment for up to a month - hopefully my finger does not incur more problems while I wait for the government to start caring for my heath.
By the time I see a doctor, another $222 will have been taken from our income so that I can have this wonderful “free” healthcare.
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