The USA are sooo over-the-top!! Look at their health and hospital system... it is just amazing!
According to a well-regarded, long-running weekly documentary on an A&E service (or ER, as they say over there) in Chicago, if you have a problem, you can get a ambulance to drive you madly through the streets of the busy town to a hospital where you are welcomed by George Clooney himself.
Here, the ambulances drive at a rather normal speed, and the nurse travelling with the patient in the back chats away nicely, without even a single attempt at drumming on the patient's chest with funny metal boxes. And when you get to hospital, a rather normal-looking Dr J. welcomes you... And I am not even sure he secretely dates the nurse working with him, who, by the way, refuses to be called Carol and insists her name is Audrey.
Then, once you are in hospital, in Chicago, very busy doctors manage to drink their Starbucks coffee, yell cryptic orders to exhausted and bemused interns, and save the world, all at the same time, and with a broad colgate smile.
In Strasbourg, however, everyone is calm. Audrey compliments you on your handbag while checking your blood pressure and giving you a nebulizer, and she never ever shoves her many forms and their iron stand on your lap...
In the waiting room in Chicago, you have tons of interesting people to look at. Poor families whose clothes can only reveal the derelict place they live in; gangs of hip-hop artists/drug barons all wounded in several places, waiting to hear if their mate, the only nice one, the one who has a kid to support, was shot to death or if he'll get through; car crash victims bleeding on the floor and all the tenants of a building infested with some kind of epidemia or other.
In Strasbourg, the most exciting person is a middle-aged man in a wheel chair with a cast going from toes to knee. The second most exciting person is a retired lady who speaks very loud to her deaf husband. The third most exciting person is a retired man with a persistent cold. He is also the least exciting person. Thank God they've got loads of tabloids!
In Chicago, when you go to the A&E, you know you've made the right choice for your afternoon. Your blood gets tested for about 18 different stuff you don't understand, a dozen people with goggles and latex gloves run around you, all the while screaming numbers and codes, your whole body gets X-rayed, they frantically try to find your Mum's mobile number in your bag so they can ring her to inquire about exotic diseases you could have had in a past life, and you get to eavesdrop the latest episode of X and Y's shag, erm sorry, love story.
In Strasbourg, no numbers, no goggles, no litre of blood sampled, no phone call to far away relatives, no secret-ish shag, erm sorry, love stories. They do give you a little button you can press in case something goes wrong, right, but seriously, how do they expect people to ever want to come back?? I did give them a chance though, I asked to go to the ladies and all, and.... THEY LET ME WALK THERE! No one hurried me along on a bed on wheels!
And when you leave the place, all sorted, alright, they don't even smile contentedly at you, full of the satisfaction of having given you your life back, they don't even tell you that Superman has a free clinic for you the underprivileged twice a month, 9 to 11, should you need help and support. No, they shake your hand goodbye, wish you a nice day, and say they'll send you the bill if you can't pay right now.
The American dream sure ain't over!!
According to a well-regarded, long-running weekly documentary on an A&E service (or ER, as they say over there) in Chicago, if you have a problem, you can get a ambulance to drive you madly through the streets of the busy town to a hospital where you are welcomed by George Clooney himself.
Here, the ambulances drive at a rather normal speed, and the nurse travelling with the patient in the back chats away nicely, without even a single attempt at drumming on the patient's chest with funny metal boxes. And when you get to hospital, a rather normal-looking Dr J. welcomes you... And I am not even sure he secretely dates the nurse working with him, who, by the way, refuses to be called Carol and insists her name is Audrey.
Then, once you are in hospital, in Chicago, very busy doctors manage to drink their Starbucks coffee, yell cryptic orders to exhausted and bemused interns, and save the world, all at the same time, and with a broad colgate smile.
In Strasbourg, however, everyone is calm. Audrey compliments you on your handbag while checking your blood pressure and giving you a nebulizer, and she never ever shoves her many forms and their iron stand on your lap...
In the waiting room in Chicago, you have tons of interesting people to look at. Poor families whose clothes can only reveal the derelict place they live in; gangs of hip-hop artists/drug barons all wounded in several places, waiting to hear if their mate, the only nice one, the one who has a kid to support, was shot to death or if he'll get through; car crash victims bleeding on the floor and all the tenants of a building infested with some kind of epidemia or other.
In Strasbourg, the most exciting person is a middle-aged man in a wheel chair with a cast going from toes to knee. The second most exciting person is a retired lady who speaks very loud to her deaf husband. The third most exciting person is a retired man with a persistent cold. He is also the least exciting person. Thank God they've got loads of tabloids!
In Chicago, when you go to the A&E, you know you've made the right choice for your afternoon. Your blood gets tested for about 18 different stuff you don't understand, a dozen people with goggles and latex gloves run around you, all the while screaming numbers and codes, your whole body gets X-rayed, they frantically try to find your Mum's mobile number in your bag so they can ring her to inquire about exotic diseases you could have had in a past life, and you get to eavesdrop the latest episode of X and Y's shag, erm sorry, love story.
In Strasbourg, no numbers, no goggles, no litre of blood sampled, no phone call to far away relatives, no secret-ish shag, erm sorry, love stories. They do give you a little button you can press in case something goes wrong, right, but seriously, how do they expect people to ever want to come back?? I did give them a chance though, I asked to go to the ladies and all, and.... THEY LET ME WALK THERE! No one hurried me along on a bed on wheels!
And when you leave the place, all sorted, alright, they don't even smile contentedly at you, full of the satisfaction of having given you your life back, they don't even tell you that Superman has a free clinic for you the underprivileged twice a month, 9 to 11, should you need help and support. No, they shake your hand goodbye, wish you a nice day, and say they'll send you the bill if you can't pay right now.
The American dream sure ain't over!!
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