Hello again! I swear, every month I set out to do this with my original intention in mind. Namely, to spread good news about something that I think is good or cool or important. And several times, life has intervened and said NAY, you will write about what I give you to write about. So instead of writing about the beautiful Irish countryside, the lovely Irish people, or the fantastic Irish beverages we consumed, I'm going to tell you a little about the Irish healthcare system (and the lovely Irish people).
To set the stage, Kate, Miles, and I were traveling with several other family members on a driving tour of the Emerald Isle. Miles had successfully lulled us into a false sense of security by successfully navigating multiple flights, hotels, long car rides, and general proximity to strangers with a positive attitude and relatively minor difficulties. Coupled with the fact that several of our most favorite babysitters were accompanying us on the trip, we felt exceedingly confident that all would go relatively smoothly. Ha. Ha.
Instead, Miles began showing some signs of illness fairly early in the trip. While he never spiked a fever, he kept getting more and more irritable, loud, and difficult to manage in most public and private places. While we expected his sleep to be disrupted, he also wasn't able to get any daytime catchup sleep, which probably didn't do him any favors. By day 3, I was concerned he might need to see a doctor.
On day 4, we stayed at the absolutely beautiful Ballyseede Castle. Because I only have so much cognitive ability left, I'm going to largely stifle the urge to tell you about other aspects of the trip. However, this was a genuine castle, and it was staffed by two very large Irish Wolfhounds. These are the coolest hotel guests I've encountered since some penguins in Hawaii. They did not help us, but Miles did enjoy petting one before things went south.
Miles initially went to sleep relatively normally, but woke up at 11:30PM making the most awful wailing scream. He was completely incapable of making a coherent thought or communicating where he hurt. After maybe 30-45 minutes, he abruptly returned to sleep, presumably having worn himself out. Unfortunately, he woke again around 2AM making the same horrifying sound. It was apparent that this was more than just sleep deprivation and fussiness.
I don't know how many of you have accessed healthcare in another country, but it is an eye-opening experience. And while I don't particularly recommend it, I have appreciated the opportunity to check some of my assumptions based on accessing healthcare in this country. But this is not going to be purely about systems, because much of the best of this story is about people...starting just after 2AM.
When we decided to take Miles in to be seen, I started wandering about the castle (a fun phrase I couldn't resist) looking for help. I ran in to Ray, a member of the hotel staff who was in the lobby. I explained the situation and asked if he could call an ambulance to get us to the hospital. Instead, Ray said, "Let me get my keys." We met Kate and Miles outside, where Ray's car was parked right out front, with a carseat in the back. He told us about how far we would be going, and drove us straight to the Emergency Department. He showed us where to go check in, and encouraged us to call the hotel when we were finished so he could come pick us up. We ended up being a bit later than his shift, but Ray's kindness and quickness were very much appreciated in that moment.
The ER waiting room looked about like any you've seen. Room full of unhappy people, waiting. Kate began the process of checking in, while I took Miles into an adjoining waiting room to try to spare the whole of Ireland of his wailing. Alas. One thing that was immediately different was that we were charged up front for the ER stay. We were given a flat rate, based on our non-EU status, and told that would cover whatever evaluation and treatment needed to occur. While not cheap, this was much preferable to trying to deal with billing, insurance, and haggling over what would and would not be covered (don't worry, we still get to do that with our own insurance once we got home). And, had we been Irish or even EU citizens, the rate would have been much lower. I won't go to the trouble of contrasting this with my previous ER visit of a few years ago, but I bet you can guess which process I preferred.
Within about 10 minutes (after being shooed back into the main waiting area), we were taken by a triage nurse who did her best to get a symptom report out of us and Miles. He was less than cooperative. However, we got enough vitals and such to move into a pediatric specific waiting area, where we again stayed for a very short time. Miles had some slightly low blood sugar (on account of not eating or drinking normally because of pain), and they tried to find a number of things he could eat to bring that up. He roundly rejected juice, biscuits (cookies...silly Irish), and yogurt. Later, we finally got him to eat an apple, and I tell you he demolished that apple. Not in time to keep the doctor away, but a welcome site all the same.
Before long, we were escorted upstairs to the pediatric unit, which is where they also treated pediatric ER cases. It was immediately comforting to know that we were going to be seen by specialists rather than generalists. The nursing staff and physician were quickly attentive and took another history from us. They came armed with a toy car, plane, and motorcycle, still in the package, just for Miles. With those distractions, we got a bit more of an assessment completed. Miles was not happy, but he was also starting to feel a little more in his element with new people to charm. He showed off his manners and his nonsense sentences, but couldn't provide any more useful information about where it hurt. Fortunately, the doctor was able to get a good look at his inflamed throat, and we were on our way to a diagnosis and treatment.
But that's not all! On our way out, one of the nurses gave us several doses of pain medication, because she knew we wouldn't be able to get to a pharmacy right away. We got prescriptions for more pain medication and antibiotics (the horrors were to persist for the remainder of the trip), and our driver, Andrew, had caught up to the nonsense and arranged to come pick us up. He took us back to the hotel, where he had already arranged a very late checkout for us so we could rest while the rest of the tour went to Dingle. I don't know how they feel about Dingle, but Andrew's frequent retort was "it's only Dingle." I ate breakfast at the Ballyseede with Andrew, and one of the staff came up to inquire about the little boy who had gone to the hospital. She directed me rather forcefully to call or ask anyone on staff if there was anything at all we needed. Andrew took me back to the pharmacy when it opened, and offered to give us some cash if we needed to cover the unexpected expenses. We rested in the room for a few hours, and then while we were waiting for the rest of the group to rejoin us, yet more of the hotel staff brought out coffee to one of the many lovely sitting rooms for us to enjoy (and wake us back up).
So, what's the "good" in this? First and foremost, every single person we encountered in the entirety of Ireland was kind. Most of them were also funny. Not once did anyone complain about Miles being an inconvenience or a bother, though he was very much being both. I know, I know. It's not his fault he got sick. Still. From the moment I met Ray in the lobby until we rejoined our tour, relatively on schedule, everybody did the absolute best version of what you would hope for in those circumstances. I've worked in a healthcare setting long enough to both see and feel the cynicism that can come from working in a system that seems to overcomplicate every minutiae. What I appreciate most about our little medical debacle is that people were kind, and process was relatively simple. And while I think we're quite a long way from simplifying healthcare around here, I hope we can work our way around to being that kind and hospitable more of the time. Cheers to you, Ireland! I'll be back someday without a toddler.
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