Sick of being sick

The past few days have been hellacious. As I've mentioned before, I was sick for the better part of December and January, some strange French illness that could not be identified. In retrospect, it was most likely a cold exaggerated by my hypochondria. In any case, I thought it was all behind me, until I woke up Friday morning with the most intense stomach pains of my life. I was certain I was dying. I tried to sleep through it. I crawled around the apartment. I curled into a ball and apologized to God for every sin I've ever committed. The pain continued. Around 5 a.m., I woke up my significant other and requested an ambulance. Since I was standing up and asking politely, he suggested a mid-afternoon doctor's appointment instead. Oh no. When an American is sick, sound the alarm, call the police, and notify the president. Or perhaps this is just me.

I called in sick to work and tried to muscle through the morning. By 11 a.m., the perpetual pain had left me toute blanche. Go time. We rushed to the doctor and requested an immediate consultation. Luckily, this was possible; Unluckily, the doctor decided to bring out his high-school level English to diagnose me.

So, have you been farting a lot?

No.

Shirt off please.

After a series of equally uncomfortable questions, he told me that I had 'acid of the stomach exaggerated by stress,' charged me 23 euro, and sent me to the pharmacy.  I spent a total of 7 euro on four different medications and spent the rest of the day gradually feeling better. The next day, as suggested by the doctor, I went to the lab to have my blood tested just to confirm that there was nothing serious going on, and it was completely free.

The daily dose

Now I really hate to get political in a time like this, but I am still amazed at how cheap medical treatment is in France. There are about a million and one things that are more difficult to do here, but being healed is not one of them. French people aren't afraid to get sick because they know they won't have to take out a second mortgage to pay the hospital. They know that since they pay taxes to the government, that their health will be taken care of. There is no fine print, no surprises. And they think it's hilarious that I make such a big deal about it.

The truth is, just a few days ago, I received three (overdue) medical bills from the US for three separate appointments, totaling to about $600.00. And I didn't even flinch. Nor did I react when I was charged $400.00 for a face cream from the dermatologist. When I learned that an MRI for my leg would cost $1200.00, I calmly decided to wait until I was 45 and could afford something like that.

I realize that I am a novice on the intricacies of the American health care system, and that there is no simple fix. But what scares me the most is that Americans don't feel like they deserve to be healthy. Like health is something only for the rich; a luxury for those with a house in the suburbs and 2.5 kids. Something that must be earned. I just can't wrap my head around it, nor do I wish to come around to this way of thinking. It is a strange realization that a foreign country I have been living in for 5 months gives me more medical benefits than my own.