the british medical system

I took the cab to the University College of London walk-in clinic and was directed to the "Accidents and Emergencies" section. How fun! I was an accident, not an emergency, so no worries. If you did not already know, apparently accidents and emergencies cost you nothing in Britain. I repeated that i had insurance and they did not care. I just had to write down my name , where i was studying, and tell them what happened. I explained how i am an idiot and fell down the stairs. They then told me to sit and wait for what could possibly be 2 and a half hours (!!!). I did not bring my book. Luckily i had about 10 little brochures for random places around england in purse, so i read those for about an hour before i was called in.

As i waited, i was trying to judge the amount of pain in order to guess what might be wrong. It was at this point that i remembered i had 400 mg of ibuprofen coursing through my body since i had taken it 45 minutes before i fell. It must have had a field day. "Move in boys, we've got a code blue in sector D. Let the fever go. Attack the ankle." So this threw off my pain guage a bit, and it did not hurt nearly as much as it should have i guessed. Lucky me.

Once i got in there, the doctor asked what happened, i explained and he said "OH. You've uh got a bit of swelling there. " Yes. Yes i did. He then poked around, apologizingly profusely as he did so. He concluded that i most likely broke nothing, but he would x-ray just in case. The x-ray man was not quite as nice and kept pushing the injured side into the table and carelessly moving it about. So the x-ray was taken, a few people looked at it and concluded that nothing looked broken. The doctor, who was very nice, then proceeded to tell me that nothing was broken, but that i had strained and torn ligaments and - this is my favourite part- that i had "SPECTACULAR swelling." That's right; spectacular. It created a spectacle. This amused me. I was proud. He told me to do the R.I.C.E. thing and stay off it as much as possible for the next week or so. I then explained that i had a tour to go on on monday and asked if i would be able to do it. Like the doctor the day before, this doctor looked skeptical, only much more so. So he said.."well, we can give you a wrap for it, but it probably won't actually do anything, and i suppose just take lots of painkillers and see what you can handle."

He didn't seem overly concerned, so i was not. This is just how the British health system is. It is very " deal with it, we've all had worse" , whereas America tends to baby everyone in a " OH DEAR? ARE YOU ALRIGHT? quick give us all your money, and take all these drugs while we slap a huge cast on you." However, i wish he had made it seem a bit more serious, because i am one to ignore injuries. Unless someone tells me it is vital for me to take care of it, i won't. I wait in line for the man who has this bandage thing. He calls out "Stacey Molski" and then says "What a lovely name. It's like an actress." That's a new one for me. My name is enjoyed by most, and chanted by many, but it had never been called lovely. So i like this old british man already. He then found out i was american and seemed to think this was amusing. After talking for a bit as he cut this weird tube bandage thing, he decided to give me two because i was a nice person and they do get dirty. Then he goes " Alright, well, that'll be 320 pounds, love." I looked very confused for a few moments before i began to stammer that i didn't believe him and i had tried to offer insurance but they told me it was covered. The minute i started to talk he burst out laughing. He enjoyed himself immensely. I enjoyed it once i had gotten over the original confusion. I told him that is was quite nice to injure yourself in the UK because it is free and easy. I said i would have to do it more often. I then hobbled out of the place after what was as enjoyable a doctor's visit can be.

One of the more bosslike people at school said there was ice in the pub we have on campus, so he sent this other RA to get it. I felt bad. But i iced it for the rest of the night and tried to elevate it.

I woke up, tried to stand on it, almost cried, fell on the floor, and then fully realized the beauty of painkillers. I took two and in about 10 minutes was able to get changed and hobble down three flights of stairs to get food. I love old English buildings, but the lack of a lift is a rather big inconvenience when you can't walk properly, and shouldn't be walking at all.

Doctor Laura came over for lunch, was shocked by my spectacular swelling, and brought me some gifts of food. She is a good doctor. Also free. And bearing gifts. We then watched Rocky Horror after i got ice from the refectory. I also bought loads of food to take with me on my trip, so when the guy at the till stated in his Polish accent " that's a lot of food for you...." i explained. He asked where i was going, and i told him about the tour. I then explained how i would look like a crazy homeless woman, because not only would i be limping down the street in the dark at 5 am, i would be carrying a huge backpack and plastic bags of food. He enjoyed my recreation of this event. Mainly because it was so true. I did look like a crazy homeless woman. I would have feared me.

Doctor Laura and i ate dinner, she left, i read and went to sleep. But not before taking my Nurofen ( english ibuprofen). Mmmm drugs.