I'm sorry this blog has been so silent lately. I am ridiculously busy right now, it seems the deadlines just keep piling on without end. I doubt things will get any better in the next year and a half. (Oh god! I only have a year and a half left for my PhD! Ahhh!)
But recently I've had a new experience, and that's what this blog is theoretically about, so I figured I should write about it. That's right, recently I've had my first brush with the Irish health system. In the three and a half years I've lived in Ireland, I've never been sick enough to need to see a doctor. I've had a checkup with a gynecologist, but that was through the college's free sexual health clinic.
As you may know, I have a history of urinary tract infections (UTIs). This is a very common type of bacterial infection that many women (including myself and my sister) are prone to. Unfortunately the more of them you get, the more prone you become, and I've had about nine of them. The symptoms are unmistakable. It's a very specific type of pain, and by this point I can tell as soon as one is coming on. So when I recently started feeling that unpleasantly familiar pain, I knew exactly what it was. There are preventative measures one can take to keep UTIs at bay-- cranberry juice, etc.-- but once there's a full-fledged infection, it takes an antibiotic to get rid of it.
Which meant that I had to go to the doctor. This worried me, of course, because I currently don't have health insurance! And even when I did, the coverage I had didn't include GP visits, only hospitalization. I had no idea what the procedure or cost would be like, but I knew I had to go and obtain an antibiotic when I woke up in terrible pain one morning. The college has a free student clinic, but demand is very high; to get an appointment sometime during the week you need to call between 9:00 and 10:30am on Monday morning. So I googled "Galway GP", found a reputable-looking one that was nearby, and called. The receptionist told me they were booked full until 2:30pm, but that I could see a nurse. I explained "Well, I'm 99% sure I have a UTI, and I'd need an antibiotic." The receptionist said "Oh god, we don't want to keep you waiting with that!" and told me to come in as soon as possible, and they'd fit me in between appointments.
Already I was favorably disposed, because I really appreciated the receptionist's concern and sympathy. I hurried over, and quickly was able to see a nurse. She took a urine sample and tested it. She found blood, protein, and white blood cells-- all the signs of an infection. I saw the doctor shortly after, and after feeling my torso and back to make sure it wasn't a full-on kidney infection, she prescribed me an antibiotic. The visit's cost? €40. And the antibiotics cost me less than €10. The whole experience was over in less than an hour and cost me less than €50!
A few days later, though, the doctor called me back and said that the lab work on my urine sample came back and showed that the antibiotic she'd prescribed me might not clear the infection. I told her that it was feeling much better, and she said to carry on with the antibiotics but if I felt any relapse of symptoms to call back. Well, sure enough about two days later I started to feel a bit of pain again. Worse still: as a side effect of the antibiotic, I developed a yeast infection! So I had both those things going on, which was incredibly uncomfortable. I called the doctor back and scheduled a follow-up visit, which I had yesterday morning.
It turned out that the particular strain of bacteria causing the UTI was resistant to 3 of the 4 antibiotics the lab tested it for... including the one I'd been on. So the doctor prescribed me the one it wasn't resistant to. For the yeast infection, she suggested I get an over-the-counter cream and pessary. I won't go into details about the pessary, you can google that yourself if you're curious, but the end result is that today I'm feeling much better. No more pain, itching or discomfort. The cost of the follow-up doctor visit? €25.
Overall, I'm very impressed by the comparative ease and humanity of the Irish medical system. There is no way an uninsured foreigner would get two GP visits for a total of $65 in the U.S. I had been worried about being sick before that, because as I said it's difficult to get an appointment with the college health centre and they certainly can't take walk-ins. But now I know that it's cheap and easy to see a doctor, and that medication isn't prohibitively expensive. This is really reassuring. Even though I rarely get sick at all and I have a generally robust constitution, it's nice to know that if I do come down with something bad I can easily get medical care.
Saturday, April 16, 2011
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Microbloggin'
Oh my god I am SO HELLUVA BUSY right now. I have way too many things on my plate, with trying to organize a conference, trying to write a paper for a different conference, trying to organize my mini-internship in Boston this summer (yes! I'm spending a month at Boston College, working in their main research library!), and somewhere in there working on my actual thesis. Oh, and selling tickets for my upcoming year-end Orchestra concert. And doing yoga. And hanging out with friends.
My main hobby these days, when I'm not doing any of the aforementioned things, is reading. Like, for pleasure! Wow! I discovered that I can easily pirate books, find them in pdf format and download for free. Since I have an ipad, it makes reading pdf formatted books very easy. Though I also actually bought Patrick Rothfuss's The Name of the Wind on the ipad, and read it. No, not read, devoured. Excellent book, excellent writing. Sometimes I think the standards in genre fiction, like sci fi and fantasy, tend to be a bit lower; the focus tends to be more on the premise of the story, rather than the writing itself. But Patrick Rothfuss is actually a great writer, regardless of the fact that what he writes about occasionally involves magic or elves. I'm currently reading The Time Traveler's Wife, on the recommendation of a ton of people, and enjoying it too. Not what I expected, and I like the structure.
Anyway, I've been doing a lot more microblogging than proper blogging these days-- using facebook and the twitters a lot more. So I decided to post a few of my choice twitter updates here. (If you have twitter and want to follow me, my twitter name is @ephemerayla. See what I did there? I thought it was clever, anyway.)
-Just sitting around the flat, learning to play Rocky Horror's "Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me" on the ukulele. #TypicalFridayNight
-AUTOPLAYING VIDEO ADS WITH SOUND NEED TO DIE IN A FIRE. #SoFuckingAnnoying
-I just learned a new word! "Oppugnant," antagonistic/combative, from L. "ob-" against and "pugnare" to fight. <3 words.
-I don't FEEL that tired, but writing a paper I couldn't remember the word "protagonist." I study theatre history. Yeah. #5HoursOfSleep
-Why do I have such a hard time writing professional emails? My shyness about talking to strangers comes out tenfold whenever I try.
-My phone's touchscreen has chocolaty fingerprints smeared all over it. #WhyICantHaveNiceThings
-I keep getting distracted by articles about breastfeeding; last night I dreamed about holding an infant. Biological clock much?
-NEEDZ MOAR YOGA PLZ.
-Discovery: a google image search for "chicory" will make me unutterably homesick.
My main hobby these days, when I'm not doing any of the aforementioned things, is reading. Like, for pleasure! Wow! I discovered that I can easily pirate books, find them in pdf format and download for free. Since I have an ipad, it makes reading pdf formatted books very easy. Though I also actually bought Patrick Rothfuss's The Name of the Wind on the ipad, and read it. No, not read, devoured. Excellent book, excellent writing. Sometimes I think the standards in genre fiction, like sci fi and fantasy, tend to be a bit lower; the focus tends to be more on the premise of the story, rather than the writing itself. But Patrick Rothfuss is actually a great writer, regardless of the fact that what he writes about occasionally involves magic or elves. I'm currently reading The Time Traveler's Wife, on the recommendation of a ton of people, and enjoying it too. Not what I expected, and I like the structure.
Anyway, I've been doing a lot more microblogging than proper blogging these days-- using facebook and the twitters a lot more. So I decided to post a few of my choice twitter updates here. (If you have twitter and want to follow me, my twitter name is @ephemerayla. See what I did there? I thought it was clever, anyway.)
-Just sitting around the flat, learning to play Rocky Horror's "Touch-A Touch-A Touch Me" on the ukulele. #TypicalFridayNight
-AUTOPLAYING VIDEO ADS WITH SOUND NEED TO DIE IN A FIRE. #SoFuckingAnnoying
-I just learned a new word! "Oppugnant," antagonistic/combative, from L. "ob-" against and "pugnare" to fight. <3 words.
-I don't FEEL that tired, but writing a paper I couldn't remember the word "protagonist." I study theatre history. Yeah. #5HoursOfSleep
-Why do I have such a hard time writing professional emails? My shyness about talking to strangers comes out tenfold whenever I try.
-My phone's touchscreen has chocolaty fingerprints smeared all over it. #WhyICantHaveNiceThings
-I keep getting distracted by articles about breastfeeding; last night I dreamed about holding an infant. Biological clock much?
-NEEDZ MOAR YOGA PLZ.
-Discovery: a google image search for "chicory" will make me unutterably homesick.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Weird experiences
I'm sorry for neglecting this 'blog so much. I have been incredibly busy, and probably have 1,001 things to write about. Today, though, had some particularly weird experiences that demand notation. In chronological order.
-This morning, when trying to leave my house to walk in to college, I discovered that I was locked in. My house has a front door, a porch shared with both apartments, and then the two separate doors to the individual flats. The front door, whose lock has been sticking fr a while, wouldn't budge. The handle turned but nothing happened. The key wouldn't turn in the lock. I called the landlord, who luckily is a handyman. He came over and after about five minutes of tinkering that included pounding a key into the lock with a hammer (!!) was able to get the door open. Apparently the pins in the lock's tumbler had gotten bent over time. The whole cylinder needed to be replaced, which my landlord luckily could do himself. After Frank arrived, the whole adventure was sorted in about 20 minutes. But it was a strange thing to start my day with.
-I got a fancy new cell phone in January, and I'm still figuring out all it can do. I've recently started using the predictive text, and to do so I have to add all kinds of words that aren't in the standard dictionary-- like "Ayla" and "fuck," both equally important in my lexicon. Just now I added the word "yay" to the phone's dictionary. That it wasn't already in there struck me as very odd, and then it struck me even further that my frequent use of "yay" is probably non-standard. I feel like I'm teaching someone to talk the way I do. When I get done with it, the phone's dictionary will be full of my particular variety of colloquialisms. For someone who is both a tech nerd and a language nerd, this is really fascinating.
Most significantly:
-I just found out an hour ago that someone I knew in high school was killed today. He was walking to work and was hit by a car. It's a weird thing to try to understand, emotionally: I hadn't seen the guy in over 10 years. We were never close, or even really friends, just acquaintances. But he was always a nice guy. He dated a friend of mine. He was a gamer, and even though he was a full 4 years older than me (which is important when you're 13) was always nice to this little geekling. I feel like I don't have a right to mourn, because after all I haven't seen, or even thought about, the guy in a long time. And he leaves behind family and a wife. I'm sad, of course, but it's more the normal human pity at a life cut short. It's just odd that I once knew this particular life.
-This morning, when trying to leave my house to walk in to college, I discovered that I was locked in. My house has a front door, a porch shared with both apartments, and then the two separate doors to the individual flats. The front door, whose lock has been sticking fr a while, wouldn't budge. The handle turned but nothing happened. The key wouldn't turn in the lock. I called the landlord, who luckily is a handyman. He came over and after about five minutes of tinkering that included pounding a key into the lock with a hammer (!!) was able to get the door open. Apparently the pins in the lock's tumbler had gotten bent over time. The whole cylinder needed to be replaced, which my landlord luckily could do himself. After Frank arrived, the whole adventure was sorted in about 20 minutes. But it was a strange thing to start my day with.
-I got a fancy new cell phone in January, and I'm still figuring out all it can do. I've recently started using the predictive text, and to do so I have to add all kinds of words that aren't in the standard dictionary-- like "Ayla" and "fuck," both equally important in my lexicon. Just now I added the word "yay" to the phone's dictionary. That it wasn't already in there struck me as very odd, and then it struck me even further that my frequent use of "yay" is probably non-standard. I feel like I'm teaching someone to talk the way I do. When I get done with it, the phone's dictionary will be full of my particular variety of colloquialisms. For someone who is both a tech nerd and a language nerd, this is really fascinating.
Most significantly:
-I just found out an hour ago that someone I knew in high school was killed today. He was walking to work and was hit by a car. It's a weird thing to try to understand, emotionally: I hadn't seen the guy in over 10 years. We were never close, or even really friends, just acquaintances. But he was always a nice guy. He dated a friend of mine. He was a gamer, and even though he was a full 4 years older than me (which is important when you're 13) was always nice to this little geekling. I feel like I don't have a right to mourn, because after all I haven't seen, or even thought about, the guy in a long time. And he leaves behind family and a wife. I'm sad, of course, but it's more the normal human pity at a life cut short. It's just odd that I once knew this particular life.
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