Canadian Health Care Information

In March, like many Canadian families, we chose to spend Spring Break in a warm and sunny part of the United States. What I didn't plan on was a trip to Emergency. I lunged for a tennis ball and caused a shoulder-on collision with the concrete court.

With the help and kindness of others, I got myself back to the condo, but I knew I needed medical attention. In preparation, I looked for that little paper card with a number to call if we needed medical care outside of the country. Annoyingly, it not there. Not knowing what to expect, my head filled with stereotypes about American hospitals. Would they demand a VISA card? Did I have enough room on my VISA card? Might they refuse to treat me?

Nevertheless, we headed out to the nearest hospital. It turned out to be the Eisenhower Medical Centre and as I later learned, one of the top 100 hospitals in the country. Entering the Emergency department, I found myself in a space that looked more like the lobby of a luxury hotel than a hospital.

Carpets, soft lighting and soft textures invited me in. Multiple small seating arrangements were made up of a sofa and other upholstered chairs as you might find in your living room or mine. The reception desk was a large curving affair with two people sitting behind it. They looked like they were waiting just for me.

"Hi", I said. "I'm a Canadian and I have hurt my shoulder". They asked me 3 things only: Do you have photo id; Are you allergic to anything; and What is the nature of your injury? Then they invited me to sit and wait for the triage nurse.

During my 90 minute stay, I had the assessment (in part with a new temp-taking gadget that is simply wiped across the forehead); the x-ray; the doctor chat with the diagnosis of a broken collar bone; and the prescription for pain meds.

Lastly, a person approached me with a clipboard. "Here it comes", I thought, "the talk about the VISA". Instead, she simply wanted to confirm my home address. Handing me a card, she said, "If you have any kind of travel insurance, just call this number so the invoice can be adjusted". That was it. No talk of VISA. No demand for money. When I get home, I will find the bill. I will let you know what it is.

Oh, and the prescription? It cost 14 dollars. Seemed reasonable to me.

Conclusion on American hospital treatment? It is a polar opposite away from our stereotype. We should update our files.