One thing most people fear when they travel abroad is sickness. My wife’s family, recently visiting from the States for a week, spent more time asking about vaccinations than about Petra or the Red Sea. In most countries, the medical facilities and personnel are a big question mark you don’t want to learn about only in the case of an emergency.
So far, I have been pretty lucky here. I might have nursed a few sports injuries here and there, but in all, I have been sick here less than in the previous two years I actually was in the States. In fact, I was ready to leave this country in good health and I have always boasted about my robust physique and being impervious to any bug thrown at me in these parts…until now.
I have always noticed that I will get sick when the weather turns, the transitional period from Winter to Spring, in particular. I hate it. Winter can’t touch me, no matter how cold it gets. But then comes Spring, the temperatures rise by 10 to 20 degrees and I’m screwed with a power tool. I am also forced to eat that little evil cackle I reserved for those wusses who couldn’t take freezing temperatures. First, I came down with the flu. I went to work last Thursday, but didn’t really do any work that was of any note, unless lying on the sofa in the office all day can be considered gainful employment. That knocked me out for four days until I realized I had still come down with bronchitis. That means antibiotics and lots of bedtime. Think about it. Bedtime is not such a bad thing. You actually don’t have to do anything. I can live with that, except you still feel like crap all the time. It’s really not worth it, the trade-off.
As I am writing this, I am about fifty percent. I am still a little weak, have lost a lot of weight due to an utter lack of appetite, and still have trouble chasing my little baby around, whereas usually the hyper little guy gets tired far before I do. But there’s finally light at the end of the tunnel. For the first time in about a week, I actually believe that this state is not permanent and that I will be able to work out and have a complete meal again for a change.
And through this all, I haven’t even seen a doctor. Even if I had, I still would have liked my chances.
Working at the Embassy certainly has its perks. There is a medical staff that will always see you, saving you those long waiting lines you are accustomed to in physicians' offices back in the States. If the medical staff believes the problem may be worth a closer look, a secretary calls a certain hospital, you bypass the waiting lines, and you are on the fast track to diagnosis and treatment, should the need for it arise.
But even without the Embassy, the health facilities here are remarkable. At an emergency room, the waiting time is usually less than an hour, the fee to be paid around ten dinars (roughly fifteen dollars), and the medical staff usually courteous, quick and efficient, the way you would expect westerners to be. Little wonder, most of these doctors here received their degrees from the UK or the US. I don’t deny that the hospitals here don’t have the same access to certain equipment that one of those ultra-modern medical facilities in the States has. But for the money you pay here, the treatment is more than adequate and almost puts our money-grubbing system to shame.
Even medication here is more than reasonable despite the overwhelming presence of Big Pharma in these parts (I ought to know, having worked with these people until most recently). There seems to be a check on what pharmaceutical companies can charge for each product, and I have always found it to be reasonable, unless it’s imported and highly specialized stuff like Nexium and Viagra (never bought it). In many cases, though, if I needed to buy an antibiotic, I would plunk down three or four dinars, pocket the drugs, and be on my way. Little wonder that our insurance company in the States pays for everything over here – there’s virtually no cost on it.
When my wife gave birth to our son, we were at the hospital, in a room that closely resembled a suite in a five star hotel, for five days…five days! Sometimes we ordered food from a menu. The insurance company quietly paid the bills, because, you guessed it, it was still a fraction of the cost of what it would have been in the States.
That said, will things remain that way here? Don’t count on it. Big Pharma is Big Pharma anywhere in the world, and greed, last time I checked, still doesn’t have a passport. They will always test the waters and see what they can get away with. In the meantime, though, I’d still rather be sick here than in the States.
So far, I have been pretty lucky here. I might have nursed a few sports injuries here and there, but in all, I have been sick here less than in the previous two years I actually was in the States. In fact, I was ready to leave this country in good health and I have always boasted about my robust physique and being impervious to any bug thrown at me in these parts…until now.
I have always noticed that I will get sick when the weather turns, the transitional period from Winter to Spring, in particular. I hate it. Winter can’t touch me, no matter how cold it gets. But then comes Spring, the temperatures rise by 10 to 20 degrees and I’m screwed with a power tool. I am also forced to eat that little evil cackle I reserved for those wusses who couldn’t take freezing temperatures. First, I came down with the flu. I went to work last Thursday, but didn’t really do any work that was of any note, unless lying on the sofa in the office all day can be considered gainful employment. That knocked me out for four days until I realized I had still come down with bronchitis. That means antibiotics and lots of bedtime. Think about it. Bedtime is not such a bad thing. You actually don’t have to do anything. I can live with that, except you still feel like crap all the time. It’s really not worth it, the trade-off.
As I am writing this, I am about fifty percent. I am still a little weak, have lost a lot of weight due to an utter lack of appetite, and still have trouble chasing my little baby around, whereas usually the hyper little guy gets tired far before I do. But there’s finally light at the end of the tunnel. For the first time in about a week, I actually believe that this state is not permanent and that I will be able to work out and have a complete meal again for a change.
And through this all, I haven’t even seen a doctor. Even if I had, I still would have liked my chances.
Working at the Embassy certainly has its perks. There is a medical staff that will always see you, saving you those long waiting lines you are accustomed to in physicians' offices back in the States. If the medical staff believes the problem may be worth a closer look, a secretary calls a certain hospital, you bypass the waiting lines, and you are on the fast track to diagnosis and treatment, should the need for it arise.
But even without the Embassy, the health facilities here are remarkable. At an emergency room, the waiting time is usually less than an hour, the fee to be paid around ten dinars (roughly fifteen dollars), and the medical staff usually courteous, quick and efficient, the way you would expect westerners to be. Little wonder, most of these doctors here received their degrees from the UK or the US. I don’t deny that the hospitals here don’t have the same access to certain equipment that one of those ultra-modern medical facilities in the States has. But for the money you pay here, the treatment is more than adequate and almost puts our money-grubbing system to shame.
Even medication here is more than reasonable despite the overwhelming presence of Big Pharma in these parts (I ought to know, having worked with these people until most recently). There seems to be a check on what pharmaceutical companies can charge for each product, and I have always found it to be reasonable, unless it’s imported and highly specialized stuff like Nexium and Viagra (never bought it). In many cases, though, if I needed to buy an antibiotic, I would plunk down three or four dinars, pocket the drugs, and be on my way. Little wonder that our insurance company in the States pays for everything over here – there’s virtually no cost on it.
When my wife gave birth to our son, we were at the hospital, in a room that closely resembled a suite in a five star hotel, for five days…five days! Sometimes we ordered food from a menu. The insurance company quietly paid the bills, because, you guessed it, it was still a fraction of the cost of what it would have been in the States.
That said, will things remain that way here? Don’t count on it. Big Pharma is Big Pharma anywhere in the world, and greed, last time I checked, still doesn’t have a passport. They will always test the waters and see what they can get away with. In the meantime, though, I’d still rather be sick here than in the States.
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