An Evaluation of the Melbourne Hospital System

By Julia
Melbourne, Australia

  I'll cut right to the chase: I'm not dying.  But here is how I spent my Monday:

Hospital visit

Followed by:

Having dinner with Kamp Kohut friend Jarrod and his girlfriend Stacey

  This has been the pattern of the past 8 days.  Excruciating abdominal pain followed/accompanied by excitable socialization.  Here's another example:

"Ughhhh"

"Wine Country!"

   Tom and I spent the week with Nathan and Sadha, Aussie friends I met while volunteering in Tanzania.  Anyone who read juliagoestoafrica will remember Nathan as "the tall hippy" who lived in a neighboring village.  Since our Tanzanian days were filled with tales of bowel-twisting amoebas, malaria, and oodles of other ailments, it was comforting to be in Nathan and Sadha's care while I nursed my mysterious illness.

  After spending several days with stomach pain, but without any accompanying symptoms, the Dads (Tom's dad and my dad are both doctors and are consulted on all medical matters -it's nice to have a second opinion within the immediate family) suggested I get checked out.  I had a feeling this was going to be a somewhat different hospital experience than our last visit to one on the Corn Islands.

  For starters, did you know that at Australian hospitals, you get ushered to a hospital bed after only one conversation with a triage nurse?  This compares to three separate conversations that I had to endure the last time I took Tom to the hospital in the states.

  Did you know that in Australian hospitals you are given a fresh, warm blanket by a friendly nurse who, after taking your vitals, tells you about her trip around the world that she is planning?

  Did you know that in Australian hospitals you are given a free lunch by a guy who sounds like Crocodile Dundee but has the congenial demeanor of a 1950's postman?

  Did you know that in Australian hospitals if you act like you're having too much fun, they boot you out without giving you a diagnosis?

  That's right.  Dr. Sara took a few blood tests, a "wee" sample and gave me a few jabs in my stomach for good measure.  When everything appeared normal, she sent me on my way with the curiously vague diagnosis of  "a muscular problem".  (but not before I asked for a second bag of saline- I mean, I wanted to get my money's worth...)

  Fortunately, the Dads have been there to monitor my progress and have been treating me for a stomach ulcer/gastritis.  The downside: No coffee for 4 weeks.  The upside: At least if I need to go back to the hospital, I'll know there is a heated blanket waiting for me!