Alex is abroad in Munich, Germany, until August 2009.

For the last two years, each time I would get an illness of some kind that reached beyond the “these are normal symptoms of a cold” plane, I would give Searle (the doctor’s office at NU) a ring, and set up an appointment for sometime within the next 24 hours. They are actually very good about making appointments, and the $25 no-show fee seems like a reasonable way to ensure college-student responsibility. After crawling my sick self over to Searle, filling out paperwork for a few minutes, I would get in to see one of the doctors. But, no matter what my symptoms or ailments, the two first possibilities were always: pregnancy or mono. Delightful.

Whenever they posed the “Is there any situation you can imagine, in which you would have contracted mono?” question, all the games of pong would flash through my mind, and I usually chose a simple “possibly?” answer. Then if I were lucky, they would quickly decide to run some sort of jam-a-q-tip-down-your-throat test on me to see if I had mono, and/or strep and I would get the results back in about two days.

That, my friends, compared to a lot of health care in the U.S., is a pretty good system, and we should consider ourselves lucky. However, comparing our best health care to the universal health care system in Germany is like comparing a matchbox car to a Porsche. Let me tell you a tale (that many politicians would have you believe is tall) about my first hand experience with universal health care.
Monday and Tuesday of this week I had two pretty nasty fevers that prevented me from going to class. While I hate doctors, and I loathe having to admit that I am sick, in order to be excused from class you have to have a note from a doctor. Therefore, I decide to email my program director and ask him for a doctor recommendation, in order to obtain this note. I am insured through my program, and it costs roughly 50 Euros per month, but is included in the lump sum that I pay to be here.

I got the name and phone number of a doctor about three U-Ban stops away, in the late afternoon on Tuesday. I called the office, only to find that this doctor’s hours were from 8:30-11:30 a.m. Monday through Friday. Yes, that’s it. That’s pretty typical for Germany though, so undaunted, I called again the next morning, and asked to make an appointment with Dr. Schneider, to which the receptionist responded, “You don’t need an appointment. Just come in before 11:30.” Surprised, but glad that I could see a doctor that same day (my condition had worsened considerably, and I was now seeking medication and not just an excuse note), I headed to the office.

The office was located in between two shops on a crowded street, on the second floor. I opened the door, and walked into a small office, with a receptionist sitting behind a counter on my left. I nervously shut the door, and rattled off the history of my current illness and how I came to be in this office to the receptionist. She looked me over, and simply asked for my insurance card, a 10 Euro co-pay, and then I sat down and waited for the doctor. Wait, you might be thinking, where is the clipboard with 10,000 pieces of paper to fill out? Where is the medical history request? Well there wasn’t any. All of my information was programmed onto my insurance card. About 20 minutes later the doctor called me into his office.

We sat down across from one another, and I told him what was wrong. He took one look down my throat, felt my neck, and gave the diagnosis: strep (well, he also said something about tonsillitis, but I wasn’t sure exactly what was wrong because it was all in German). No jamming of q-tips or two day waiting period for results, just an immediate decision. We then made small talk while he wrote me a prescription, and filled out a slip excusing me from classes Monday through Thursday, since I would be highly contagious until the next day. I walked out of the office with my two pieces of paper, and found the nearest drug store — an “apotheke” here, they are on every corner. I walked in and gave my prescription to the woman at the counter, who then walked to the back, picked up a bottle, came back, asked me for five Euro, and told me to avoid dairy. That simple.

Similar things have happened to quite a few people on my program. One girl had a bike accident and landed in the hospital for close to a week, where her bill was only 15 Euro per night. I know that there are so many intricacies to the American health care system, and so many fundamental things that can’t be quickly changed. But, living in a country with a system like this feels like I just won the lottery. When we tell stories of people dying because they can’t afford health insurance, or hospital bills the Germans flat out don’t believe us. That is not possible in their world.

If nothing else, this experience made me realize that we have a long way to go in the States.

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