British Teeth Explained

*Now* I understand.  After resisting for the 2.5 years I've been here, I finally broke down & went to the dentist yesterday.  It's been a year since I saw my US dentist, and it's going to be a while before I see him again, so I decided to bite the bullet & go to the dentist here. I decided to book a checkup & cleaning appointment, and there's a dentist around the corner from the flat who is open on Saturdays.  What could be easier?

I was in and out of the office in 40 minutes-and 15 of that involved paperwork and reading a magazine while waiting.  The sum total of time I was with the dentist?  25 minutes.  In this 25 minutes, he checked my teeth, ran two x-rays-and reviewed them, and put a bit of composite seal on the back of a tooth that was looking a bit 'iffy.'  He said my teeth were clean enough with no tartar that warranted a cleaning (thank you Sonicare!), so off I went.  At first, while walking home, I was tickled that the appointment didn't take that long.  But, the more I thought about it, the more I realized just how indicative this appointment must be to the general attitude of the Brits to their teeth; case in point:  in September, Simon finally broke down & went to the dentist for the first time in 3 years!  I'm pretty sure the only reason he went was to get me off his back.  And, here I am worried that it's been a year.  hm.

I can't remember a time that I was in & out of a dentist's office in less than an hour-and I certainly can't remember a time while I was there for a checkup that a cleaning wasn't almost manditory.  But, with my dental professional's almost chill attitude about my teeth, now I understand why toothcare seems to be such a low priority for most Brits.  Yes, I realize I'm stereotyping a bit, and on some level, the flip-side of all of this is that perhaps we Americans are a bit *too* obsessed with our teeth, but as I personally plan to take my one and only set of adult teeth to the grave with me, I can't imagine being any other way.

Glad this mystery has finally been solved!

NHS: Scarier than a 3rd World Clinic

I'm still trying to catch up on a few posts after being off the grid for several weeks, but as the trauma from my most recent experience with the NHS is so fresh, I wanted to get this down now.

Gents...you may want to *stop* reading here.  This is about to become TMI (too much information).  Ladies...well, if any of you have plans for your first 'smear test' in the UK any time soon.  I'm sorry for the fear I'm about to strike in you!

I've touted the good of the NHS on more than on occasion, but my 'smear test' (pap smear) with the local Well Woman's clinic yesterday has made me re-think this whole stance

The clinic I set my appointment up with isn't my regular GP.  If your GP isn't 'equipped' to do these tests, you can easily be referred to other clinics in the area that are. OK.  Nice.  I picked a clinic that was about 10 minutes away from the flat and booked my appointment.  It wasn't until yesterday however, that I looked at Google maps to realize that the Clinic is actually located on what is known as a Council Estate.  Think  "Section 8" housing.  High rise flats for low income/support income families.  I don't mean to bash the concept of low income/support income....merely painting the picture.

After my intake meeting with the nurse, to go over basic paperwork, I return to the lobby to wait for the Doctor (I use this term loosely.  I truly don't even know if the person that did my exam was a doctor!...) to call me.  While sitting there, I noticed another couple in chairs.  How can I say this delicately?...They looked and acted as if they were coming down off a week-long binge-and I don't mean of the booze kind...  OK.

Eventually I was called into the doctors office/exam room.  I have noticed it is common here for doctors to have their offices/exam rooms combined, so I didn't think anything of it.  Silly me.  After a quick 30 second chat, she said, 'Ok.  Take off your bottoms & hop up on the table.'  I presumed she'd step out for a moment, so I paused.  She didn't move.  OK...
So, my 'bottoms' come off, and I hop up on the table-first noticing that I'm too short to hop up directly on the middle paper strip over the table.  So, theoretically, my bare-ass is supposed to hit the table, and then I'm to scoot onto the paper.  I decided to pull the paper over to the side of the table, but I wonder how many bare asses have hit the table (literally!), without doing this.  OK...
While hoping up on said table, I also happened to notice that there are no stirrups at the end of the table.   Odd, I think.  She's going to pull these out after I'm already up here?  OK...
Silly me.  There are NO stirrups.  She tells me to simply lie back, bend my knees, and 'open your legs and scoot my ankles as close to me as I can.' OOOK...

I then proceed to have a pap exam with the examiner literally bending over my leg-my knee was in her armpit the entire time.  Never mind the awkardness of what is already a very unpleasant experience, I've now got her pit on me, and the angle of my pelvis from just lying on the table with my 'ankles as close to me...' as they are...it is not a comfortable position to be in for this type of thing.

Once the actual smear was done, that was it.  No manual exam.  No breast exam.  No nothing.  OK.

Oh, and the UK NHS will only allow the test once every years if you're normal.  That's it.  A slap-dash test, in a place that makes me believe I'm getting the exam in a 3rd world clinic, and I'm only supposed to have this done once every three years?!?  Part of me is thankful-I don't look forward to repeating this trauma any time soon, but this entire test just screams "ineffective."

Ladies, I don't know if this is a typical experience here in the UK, but it was such a shocking experience, I had to make note of it.  Never in my life did I think I'd look forward to a Pap smear in the US, but after yesterday, I can say with certainty that I will most definitely-and happily-have my next Pap in the US. Yikes.

I'm A 'Non-European/Other'

I had my first PT appointment today to get my hip sorted out, and the NHS, in their never-ending attempt to ethnically categorize every patient they come in contact with made me fill out a brief form.

There were no slots for 'American' and, let's face it, as we're mostly mutts in the USA; the closest categorization we'd have in the US would be based on race-not 'ethnic background.'

The next-best category I could find?....Apparently, I'm a 'Non-European/Other'

hmph.

The NHS: Ultra Progressive or Third World Country-Like?

Finally, after almost a year here, I had my first 'real' interaction with the NHS today. The NHS is the UK's privatized health care system (National Health Service to be exact), and up until now, I had only been to my doctor's office twice: once to 'register' with them, and once to get travel meds for my trip to the Dominican in October. Now, I know many people could write reams on what is broken about the US system. I don't disagree with that-and that's not the point of my post. But, what happened today was certainly worth mentioning-at least in my book...

Long story short, I had to pop up to the local hospital today for an X-Ray, and then go have some blood drawn (Settle down-it's nothing major. Just some hip-joint pain, and my GP wants to rule out any type of bone problems...). Anyhoo...how this all worked today is both pretty cool-and alarmingly dated.

With my X-Ray referral in hand from my GP, all I had to do was go to the hospital (no x-ray capability in the doc's office..), with my form and they worked me in for the day. No appointment, no nothing. First come, first served. And, as I arrived there right when they opened up this morning, there was also no queue. I was in and out in 15 minutes; it took me longer to walk there and back then the actual appointment itself. Yea. That's the progressive part.

Here comes the scary part...

A few hours later, I went to my GPs office to have some blood drawn. How do I put this delicately?...I don't want to imply that the 'US IS BEST' by what I'm about to say, but it certainly can't be too far from the truth: My arm didn't get swabbed with anti-bacterial anything, and the lady who took the blood?...DIDN'T EVEN WEAR GLOVES!!!!

I was so taken aback, that I actually stopped her and asked: why aren't you cleaning my arm? In the US, I would get swabbed before getting stuck. Hint. Hint. Her reply was that, since she pokes my arm after swabbing (with her finger to find a vein), she continues to transfer germs (um. well, the gloves would certainly take care of that problem!!!), and she would also have to wait until the wetness dries to be effective-otherwise, it's just useless (and can actually sting a bit when putting the needle in you). Her words, not mine. I couldn't help but think: well then, WAIT. An extra minute won't kill *you*, and newsflash: I've got a needle going in my arm. I'll never be able to tell if the pain is from then needle or the antiseptic.

Wow. Now, I certainly can't comment as to whether or not my experience today with the phlebotomist is the NHS standard, or if it's simply her way of doing things. So, I'm trying not to indict the entire NHS for this one experience. But, after coming from a health system where, I wouldn't be surprised to see receptionists wearing surgical gloves at some point in the near future, it did at least make me take note of the experience.