I sat down to write about my morning's doctor visit before I realized that health care is the topic du jour in the US and this isn't the place to express my political feelings on the subject. Suffice to say that I grew up in Canada where we have (gasp!) a socialist health care system. It isn't perfect but it covers everyone and it generally works. I lived without health care in the States for 5 years. No coverage at all. That system did not work for me.

Back to this morning. There was a hard lump growing on my hand and I couldn't ignore it much longer (drawing faces on it only made us bond). I decided to brave my fear of a foreign doctor's office and made an appointment with an English speaking doctor I found in the local ex-pat chat room. The office was on the first floor of a nearby building. It was a converted apartment that felt cozy and a lot less sterile (good? bad?) and organized and overrun then any doctor's office I'd been to before. I sat in the small waiting room while people took turns crossing through the open door to the balcony for cigarette breaks. It soon became clear the office was also dispensing methadone or something similar so the usual cast of determined yet slightly needy characters of all ages traipsed through. The doctor himself was kind and friendly and took the time to chat. He wasn't an hour late and he didn't look like he'd slept less than 6 hours a night for the past year. He looked at my hand and explained the options (surgery, hit it with a hammer or use a needle to drain it). I asked for the latter and he said "Great, let's do it now." So I sat in a cubicle with an open curtain across from a young woman getting blood drawn and a couple of late methadone users. We all politely avoided eye contact and got on with our respective business. The doctor explained to the nurse (who was also the receptionist) what he was doing and she instinctively came over and rubbed my arm to sooth me.

I paid 40 Euros for the appointment and procedure. 40 Euros which the Canadian government will reimburse. The actual bill came out to 47 Euros but I'd paid before the procedure so the nurse/receptionist told me not to worry about the balance. Between the touches of home, the doctor with time to talk, the open floor plan, the service and the cost, it was the best experience I've ever had in a doctor's office. I know that many people don't want to see drug addicts or share a space with others but I'm willing to trade the cold, empty, sterile New York doctor's office for better service with people who have the time and will to look you in the eye and sympathize with your condition any day. It was in stark contrast to the time in Brooklyn when a nurse REFUSED to take my blood because I asked to lay down and she called a doctor in to say she wasn't responsible for patients who may faint before the doctor told me I should go to another clinic. What are Americans so afraid of?