Health in Switzerland

I unexpectedly discover that drugs cost no more here than in Australia.

I’m getting to become very familiar with all aspects of the health system: hospitals, home visits by doctors, I have my own physician now I go to at least weekly and a pharmacy. My sense is that they all care and know what they are talking about.

My physician’s rooms are charmingly old-fashioned, a little chaotic, there don’t seem to be any appointments, one turns up and something happens sooner or later. I was specifically organised by my hospital doctors to see somebody ‘good’ who speaks English and is near where I live.

The first time I saw her she asked me how long I had been sick before I came to hospital. When I said a couple of weeks she said how brave and strong I was. But her look said ‘you are completely insane.’

So now I’m trying to do the opposite of usual and pay more attention and give more weight to how I feel. The trouble is, it is hard to get that balance right between being cavalier and paranoid. So right now I have come down with something again, I hope just a cold, not the flu but I can’t tell. On the one hand I want to say ha. Just the flu, won’t kill me. On the other, that is pretty much what I said the week starting the 20 November and it wasn’t just the flu and it did almost kill me….aaarrrggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!


2 thoughts on “Health in Switzerland

  1. It’s not easy to strike the balance between paranoia and death by stoicism. Since I am an unbelievable hypochondriac, but very sensitive to being sneered at by the medical profession, I long ago decided to ignore everything on the grounds that it was probably fictitious. Still, if I had to, I could turn that off and maybe batch up my daily symptoms for a weekly visit to the local GP, so I guess I have a slight advantage over you.

    Pleased you’re back on line. I thought your relative silence was either busy-ness or a relapse. Good luck with it all.

    BTW, I don’t know if you ever met Errol, a friend of Milly’s with an enthusiasm for bridge far outweighing his abilities, but a zest, charm and energy that more than made up for the gap? He is a haemophiliac, since birth, and his view was, when I asked him about the stress, “Why worry?”.


    • I do know Errol. In fact he is to blame for being the person who ruined my first Christmas in Melbourne. I went to his wonderful Sri Lankan Christmas Eve celebration and he made me drink gin – I do mean ‘made’ and I did tell him it was a very bad idea. Too early one of his sons had to drive me home and I was miserably hung over all the next day, leading Wally Scott, which whom I was flatting, to suggest that the reason I got on well with vodka was that it was more pure than other alcohol.


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