I’m coming to realize that an adventure for Kelly & I isn’t complete without a trip to the hospital.
One night rather late (after 11pm), Kelly was routing through the fridge for a snack. And out jumped a 5-gallon heavy glass jar full of iced tea. It launched itself from the top shelf of the fridge…and directly onto his big toe.
Crash! Splash! (Pause, pause…string of unintelligible curses to follow).
We all raced from our dark corners of our place to discover Kelly frozen in front of the fridge, the door open, iced tea and broken glass EVERYWHERE. With lots of cursing.
We all froze, wondering who was going to make the first move in what promised to be a monumental clean-up job.
We ushered Kelly to a nearby chair for diagnosis of his toe. He was bleeding from many places, but not badly. But in front of our very eyes, we watched his big toe swell.
“I think it’s broken. No – it’s broken. For sure,” were Kelly’s words through clenched teeth as he tried to wiggle his toe.
We all tried to determine if they can do anything for broken big toes. Do they splint them? Give you a bootie? A cast, perhaps? Ooh Ooh – maybe traction; that would be fun. Or maybe they just send you on your way with instructions to stay off it for an unrealistic period of time.
Kelly started making noises about needing to go to the hospital. Although our roomie (Zero) was more than willing to drive us even at that late hour, I noticed that all the Americans in the room paled at the idea. They were obviously hesitant to choose a hospital trip as the first line of defense. There were a few quiet suggestions that we wait until the morning to see how bad it was, but there was also no denying that Kelly’s toe was getting bigger by the minute.
A quick call to our travel insurance company revealed the “rules” of what they would cover, and off we went.
In comparison to more recent Canadian emergency room adventures, which lasted upwards of 4 hours each time and as long as 10 hours, this trip was a breeze. Kelly was immediately whisked away by the doctors while I finished the paperwork part of admitting him. Pretty much as soon as we said the word “insurance” the way was paved!
After a few x-rays, the doctor informed Kelly he was extremely lucky not to have broken his toe; he just crushed it nicely. The nurse came back to send us on our way with a few heavy-duty painkillers.
“You may as well keep this bottle of hydrogen peroxide too, because somehow or another, you’ve paid for it!” was the nurse’s departing comment to us.
Luckily, we got away from the trip without having spent a dollar of our own money – the hospital bills the travel insurance company directly (who in turn bills our provincial plan for all they can get). But I have a sneaking suspicion that we haven’t seen the end of this adventure…I am expecting a lovely bill in the mail for the expenses that weren’t covered; perhaps gauze, tissue paper, or a bottle of hydrogen peroxide…
And we’re taking bets as to how much the hospital is billing overall for this relatively short trip…the cost of care in the U.S. isn’t standardized the way it is in our home country, and it’s a foreign concept to us that every little thing comes at an exorbitant cost.
Back home, flash your provincial health care card, and you will be charged for little to no expenses at all. Kelly has endured strokes, heart attacks, two heart operations, and a series of other minor to critical emergencies. And the highest bill to come in the mail was $150 for an ambulance trip.
Here in the U.S. though, we hear stories of a medical emergency devastating an otherwise financially healthy home.
Conversely in other countries like Singapore, people routinely visit for “medical vacations”, taking advantage of the high quality of care for dirt-cheap prices to have operations and other medical procedures performed.
All I can say at this time is, thank goodness for travel insurance. The strangest things can happen in the wee hours while raiding the fridge for food.