Last week, for the first time since living in another country, I visited the doctor. I am very lucky to work for an American company because all of my office mates speak English and therefore I can go to them for recommendations on these types of things. Questions like:
- Do you have a doctor you recommend? Do they speak English?
- Do you have a dentist you like? Do they speak English?
- Do you have a cell phone provider you like? Will they speak English at the store?
- Who is your plumber? Does s/he speak English?
- Who cuts your hair? Do they speak English?
You know, the important stuff.
I’ve been going to the doctor every year for an annual physical ever since my father had a quadruple bi-pass and ever since I found out I have his DNA for high cholesterol. Coupled with my love of cheese, ice cream and butter, I needed to see a doctor once a year. Plus I have asthma and love to sit in the sun.
I made the appointment, which was pretty painless. They sounded nervous on the phone when asking me how soon I needed to come in, as the doctor was pretty busy.
“How about in 2 weeks?” I said, which at home would’ve been a miracle to get something booked that quickly.
“Oh yes, great”, they said in their sweet Swiss accent. “What day and time would you like?”
I took a stab in the dark. “Tuesday at 8:00am?”
“Perfect, see you then.”
Wow, that was….remarkably easy. And quick.
Leading up to the day, however, I was getting more and more anxious. How would I explain the meds I am currently on? I don’t have my medical history with me, will they need that? What if I can’t understand them, or they can’t understand me? Will they have the same medication I am used to at home?
I entered the office 10 minutes til (the Swiss hate tardiness) and registered with the desk. I then entered the waiting room where two other people were sitting and both promptly said “Guten morgen” to me. I was stunned. At home, you usually avoid eye contact with others like the plague, because you didn’t want to contract whatever the other person had – especially in case they actually had the plague.
I hadn’t been seated for 5 minutes when I was called back for my weight and blood pressure. They took my measurements and I had no idea what any of it meant. 62.5kg? 173 cm? Damnit, USA and it’s non-metric system. How am I supposed to know if I lost or gained weight? I couldn’t convert it until I got into work later that morning.
After that, I was taken into the doctor’s office – her actual office, with a desk and examining chair – to talk about why I was there and what I needed. She was extremely nice, but I had forgotten my medicine and had nothing to really reference as far as my meds and history. We both did a google search to try and ID the meds, so while it wasn’t the smoothest conversation, we both were able to make ourselves understood.
She then listened to my breathing, sent me off to get some blood work done, and had me complete a breathing test. This all occurred in the span of 20 minutes – the convo, the blood work, the listening to my breathing and the lung capacity test.
I then waited 10 more minutes while the blood work results came through (waited! There! Not at home for two weeks to receive a “normal” phone call!) and then talked through what was found with the doctor. Turns out all was well, which was quite a blessing, and she handed me two boxes of medication. One was my familiar old inhaler and the other was a new type of medicine that was in the same family as Advair.
And that was it. All said and done within 45 minutes, without a trip to the pharmacy, without waiting for blood results, without having to schedule another appointment for the lung capacity test. If only it were that easy at home…
Would it be weird of me to say I now am actually looking forward to the dentist?
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