In the morning, I spent a long time googling what a foreigner should do in a case like mine, especially without insurance. Because of my shyness and anxiety, I always have a problem when there's no ready-made recipe for how to act in a given situation. I found a universal short number for non-emergency medical help in Scotland — 111. It turned out that socialist ideas are traditionally stronger in Scotland than in other parts of the United Kingdom. (Which, by the way, influenced the work of Banks, whom I mentioned earlier). So, this number is supported by the state, rather than private clinics and organizations like in other parts of the UK. As a result, it is reliably accessible at any off-hour anywhere in Scotland, at least in theory.
Alas, I couldn't get through to it from my Latvian number. Try as I might, I couldn't dig up a long number or a website. So much for socialism. Free and universal, but efficiency and forethought are down the drain. In the end, I said screw it, and just decided to go to the nearest hospital in the morning, called the Royal Infirmary, since it was relatively close, albeit by bus.
At the hospital, I walked straight through the main entrance. I wanted to take the bull by the horns right away and said I wasn't a UK citizen, but they told me it didn't matter at all. Encouraged by this news, I went where I was directed — to the trauma center. In bourgeois speak, it's called a minor injury unit, located next to the ER. There they squeezed all the document details out of me, along with my address and an emergency contact. For some reason, I blurted out my dad, even though he doesn't even really speak English. Next time I'll be more logical. Very politely (like everything in Scotland), the lady processed me and told me to wait in a special hall next to her booth. She asked if I had an EHIC — a card that allows a citizen of one EU country to receive care in another. I couldn't find the card before I left. Fortunately, this didn't hinder the process in any way.
Everything in the hospital seemed very clean and neat to me, but a lot of people had clearly been waiting for a very long time. Spooked by the stories, I was already expecting to sit there for at least three hours. But apparently, my description of the injury was high enough on the urgency list, because I got to see a doctor much earlier than many of those who had been sitting in the hall before me. While waiting, I chatted with a girl who was coming from a yoga class and fell, knocked out half a tooth, and injured a finger. Yoga is teh danger!
The doctor turned out to be a young female intern, but on the plus side, her English was very easy to understand. She said she would consult with a colleague about an X-ray. I'd heard plenty about how often doctors don't do the necessary tests unless you ask for them yourself. I tried to convey that I was afraid of a meniscus tear. I didn't know the word for it, but she asked me to say it in my native language, and it turned out the word is actually Latin — meniscus. My concerns were accepted, and they sent me for an X-ray.
An Indian guy did my X-ray. Usually, people think that if it's a Black person, an Indian, or a woman, then they're an assistant, and the doctor is somewhere nearby. I didn't make that mistake, but I also forgot to say "thank you, doctor" so he'd know I have a clue. His accent was on the heavy side, but what do you really need from a radiologist? Just to lie down correctly, and that's it.
I waited for the results and the follow-up appointment for about 20-30 minutes, roughly the same as for the first one. This time I ended up with a ginger guy, a Scotsman judging by his brogue — as they sometimes are. He was a bit tough to understand, but still manageable. He informed me that no damage was visible on the X-ray, and I just had a knee spree.
What the hell that is — who knows. We probably call it "pulling a ligament" in everyday life. As I mentioned above, there is no such phenomenon, at least that's what I gathered from a cursory study of the issue.
In any case, this really cheered me up. I asked if I needed knee support bandages or other contraptions. The doctor answered very insistently: no, otherwise the muscles will atrophy, and it will take longer to heal. Can you bend your leg? You can, almost completely, which means you have to bend it and walk. You wouldn't tell by looking at me, since I have a gut, but I'm a pro at walking. Overjoyed, I say: I'm a tourist, all I do is walk. Where is the limit? Listen to your body, he says.
But how are you supposed to listen to it? When I was in school, we took a psychological test where we had to rank our personality traits, and the traits we consider attractive and favorable.
I don't remember what else was on there, I only remember that one of my top ones was "enthusiasm". As you can imagine, for the next three weeks I walked twenty kilometers every single day. Even when my knee started protesting against such treatment, I didn't pay much attention, I just wanted to move and see the world too much.
I also asked if it was worth getting an MRI upon my return, to which the doctor replied that it was up to my local doctor to decide.
As you can see, my visit to the hospital turned out to be quite fruitful, and not nearly as long as expected. They didn't really examine or treat me very thoroughly, which is something the denizens of foggy Albion often complain about. Whether this is a problem with the system or my case was just a minor issue is hard to say.
Where everything was awesome, though, was the cost of the treatment. The thing is, according to EU laws, in any other EU country you have the right to exactly the same medical care as the citizens of that country. In Scotland, they have to treat me like a Scot. Later, true, they will bill Latvia, but that shouldn't bother you, the country pays. Taking advantage of this, some folks from poor countries like ours rush into medical tourism at the expense of Great Britain. Seeing as the quality is relatively high, and you don't have to pay. That's how it turned out in my case — I didn't pay a single penny. It's always worth finding these things out in advance, however (which I didn't do, by the way). You don't have to pay in a public clinic, or if they have a contract with the state. For example, a friend told me he once ended up in a hospital in Scotland (he lives there). An hour later, a lawyer came to him and warned: dude, you don't have a family doctor (GP), and therefore you'll pay out of pocket. My friend quickly discharged himself, got a GP, and checked back in. They later showed him the medical bill: over 6000 pounds! Attention to detail, pushiness, persistence, and a lack of excessive modesty will bring you success. Especially financial.
Joyful, I had lunch in the hospital cafeteria and headed to the bus stop. Right then, a scheduled work call with a client came up. I took it, once again feeling 100% like a digital nomad. Calling from a bus stop isn't cool, but hey, I'm on vacation and not obliged to do it, it's just a gesture of goodwill.
I decided to dedicate the rest of the day to walking a marked trail that the client had just recommended to me. It's called the Water of Leith Walkway, and you'll see photos of it in the next part.