Despite violently coughing and vomiting up food and phlegm, there was no way in hell I was going to cancel this long weekend trip we planned to Tasmania. I could rephrase that again as, there was no way in hell that Chris would have cancelled this trip, too. Being a native Australian, he has been very embarrassed to share with others that he still hadn’t visited Tasmania, but would use the excuse of taking me to finally see it himself. This trip was happening regardless of how sick I was.
Well, we arrived. Then on the very short car ride from the airport to our hotel, Chris had to stop the car so I could vomit up more phlegm. I felt like I was going to pop out all the veins in my face at that point, so we found the nearest doctor and made an appointment. I could barely speak at that point, so every word out of my mouth took effort. At the doctor’s office, after a thorough (and croaking) discussion of my timeline of symptoms, checking my vitals, and the doctor just happening to be there at a time when I had another coughing and vomiting fit (well, she heard through the thin walls since I did this in the bathroom and not in her lap), she determined that I had contracted whooping cough and would need to immediately start a course of antibiotics specific to this highly contagious respiratory disease. I wasn’t sure if I was in heaven or in hell — in heaven because finally, someone had given me a diagnosis that made sense that would rid me of the violent fits that had been exhausting my entire body, or in hell because… who gets whooping cough, especially at my age? And also, who would have given to this to me… back in New York?!
The other amazing thing is that I’d never had to visit a doctor during any of my international travels until today, so I’d never personally been exposed to medical practices outside of the U.S. Who would have thought my first visit would be here in Tasmania, with a doctor so casual that she didn’t even tell me her last name when introducing herself and only gave her first name? She listened and was extremely patient. I can’t even remember the last time I had a doctor who had given me that much time and shown so much compassion towards me. It’s as though every time I described another symptom in the week and a half timeline, it felt like she was feeling the pain, too. She gave me her phone number and said to ring her office at any time, and let the receptionist know she specifically said she’d fit me in any day I needed to see her in the next week if needed. I was so touched and grateful. “No worries,” she responded and smiled.
And don’t even get me started on the cost. I have no traveler’s insurance, no extra insurance I paid for through my own insurance plan, yet the cost of my visit was so affordable, and the price of my antibiotics prescription so low that I know for certain that every single American back home is being screwed, some even being pushed into debt and bankruptcy because of the senseless cost of healthcare there. If I were a foreigner visiting the U.S. with the same situation, I’d be terrified to know how much my visit would have cost.. and the cost of my prescription medication. Anyone who defends the American healthcare system has zero perspective on the rest of the world and the “true cost” of healthcare. Health is a right, not a privilege. Without health, you don’t have a life.