Experiencing the NHS

This weekend I traveled with the Rockclimbing Society (of which I am a member) to the Peak District. I think that's in the central northern area of the island, but I wasn't driving, so you know how that goes trying to figure out a location from the back of a van. I've been told it's around Manchester. 

I borrowed a sleeping bag from the Pooles and stuffed a backpack full of everything warm I own and bought "wellies" and gloves and a hat on my way to school. 

Pre-planning packing: 

There were 18 students total, and we camped two nights in a field of sorts, like a real field with sheep for neighbors. But you know what they say - "location, location, location," and this location was breathtaking. 

Our tents and fancy dinner:

We top-roped Saturday, and then we bouldered Sunday, and getting to climb outdoors again was just great. There are few more wonderful ways to spend a Sunday than outside in relative isolation climbing on rocks. 

The group: 

Some of us girls looking hardcore:

In case I'm ever a famous rock climber and I get a little too big on it, here's a picture of me falling. It happens a lot. 

All was fine and well until the end of the second day when I was bouldering down into a cave with the other climbers. Don't worry; it wasn't a creepy cave. Anyway, I had to drop the last four feet because my relative lack of height is a little limiting at times. I was "spotted" down (the others made sure I landed without falling over), but I twisted my ankle. Two sweet friends on the trip helped me (carried me) down the mountain, and I was able to switch my climbing shoes to wellies before the swelling made my ankle too big. 

What ankle? Gross. 

The next day I called my Physician's Assistant little sister, and told her about it, and she said I'd need an X-ray. So I rang my Rotarian family, Mike and Gill Poole, who saved me from my "painfully hobble around campus" routine after my last class and took me to the ER. 

The ER is called the A&E here, which stands for "emergency and something-that-starts-with-A." On the way, I tried to calculate which section of the budget my copay would come from and how much of the treatment I'd be paying for since it's out of network. (There is an in-network doctor here, but the A&E has the only X-ray machines in the whole city.) When I went back, I asked my nurse why there is only one location to get X-rays. His response was that we probably have more in the US because we have to pay for them. Which then led me to wonder... Who pays for these??? The government, well, taxpayers, and it's free to anyone with a real emergency! So I ended up hopping out of the A&E in a matter of hours, X-rayed, ankle wrapped, and armed with a pair of crutches to borrow, all courtesy of the NHS. 

Getting some reading for a class done while I wait for an X-ray:

All the nurses and the nurse practitioners were really nice! Once I received the final verdict of "not broken," the doctor took a picture, so I could text it to my mom and dad. 

Not broken!

My future in rock climbing is on hold for a few weeks, but I should be off crutches by Friday and then just 2-3 weeks away from recovery. (Note: Those are my own estimates and do not reflect the actual advice of health care professionals. The doctor didn't tell me anything specific, and that sounds about right.)