Profane Medicine
Six months ago the doctor told my father to get a follow-up appointment in October. The doctor wanted to see him in July but apparently the appointment books for summer weren't open yet. I was told to return around the beginning of June to have the appointment moved up. First internalized outburst of profanity. In January they could give me an appointment for October but not for closer-in-time July?
This morning I take out the papers and try the phone number given on them. A computer gives me three choices. One, I can make an appointment for my local GP; two, I can cancel or move further along the calendar an existing appointment at the hospital; three, I can speak directly with a doctor or nurse; any other questions I should go to my local clinic. Second outburst of profanity, this time out loud and startling my cats. I have to make the trip.
I arrive at the hospital. I don't even bother to look for a free parking space. I go directly into the half-empty parking garage. I go to the appropriate department and wait in line. When my turn comes I explain what I had come to do. The receptionist checks and tells me the appointment books for the summer still aren't open. She tells me to come check again at the middle or end of the month. Another trip. Third internalized outburst of profanity. I leave and pay fifty cents at the parking garage for ten minutes.
The beautiful thing about socialized medicine is its coverage and availability. Everyone has a local doctor they can consult for anything. Most medicines are covered, with a small charge for the patient. (I have an inhaler that costs over twenty-five euros and pay about forty cents with the official prescription.) Anyone who gets a major illness has all the necessary treatment covered with maybe a small surcharge for some medications. No one has to go bankrupt to be treated for cancer. We all pay for our healthcare through our taxes.
The problem is that the Spanish system has never gotten the hang of making waiting lists disappear. In the French system the waiting list is maybe one or two weeks long for a first visit to a specialist. In Spain it's anywhere from two months to a year. It's enough to make anyone break out in profanity. You won't die from not being able to afford treatment, but you might die from waiting too long.
It's a beautiful day, though.
This morning I take out the papers and try the phone number given on them. A computer gives me three choices. One, I can make an appointment for my local GP; two, I can cancel or move further along the calendar an existing appointment at the hospital; three, I can speak directly with a doctor or nurse; any other questions I should go to my local clinic. Second outburst of profanity, this time out loud and startling my cats. I have to make the trip.
I arrive at the hospital. I don't even bother to look for a free parking space. I go directly into the half-empty parking garage. I go to the appropriate department and wait in line. When my turn comes I explain what I had come to do. The receptionist checks and tells me the appointment books for the summer still aren't open. She tells me to come check again at the middle or end of the month. Another trip. Third internalized outburst of profanity. I leave and pay fifty cents at the parking garage for ten minutes.
The beautiful thing about socialized medicine is its coverage and availability. Everyone has a local doctor they can consult for anything. Most medicines are covered, with a small charge for the patient. (I have an inhaler that costs over twenty-five euros and pay about forty cents with the official prescription.) Anyone who gets a major illness has all the necessary treatment covered with maybe a small surcharge for some medications. No one has to go bankrupt to be treated for cancer. We all pay for our healthcare through our taxes.
The problem is that the Spanish system has never gotten the hang of making waiting lists disappear. In the French system the waiting list is maybe one or two weeks long for a first visit to a specialist. In Spain it's anywhere from two months to a year. It's enough to make anyone break out in profanity. You won't die from not being able to afford treatment, but you might die from waiting too long.
It's a beautiful day, though.
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