Being ill is the same anywhere

For the last 10 days I’ve had the worst chest infection of my life, or at least since I gave up smoking and that was 15 years ago.  I usually get some kind of unpleasant virus in February and will have been heard to say if only I could breathe some warm air and feel the sun on my back I’d be better in no time. Doesn’t work I’m afraid, though I suppose that being ill where I can lie on the beach or in Kings Park with a book does beat duvet-snuggling with the heating on at home.

Another plus, as I seem to be in positive mood, is that I have been able to investigate at first hand the Australian health service, presenting at the UWA medical centre on the second day of my placement. They took one look and told me to lie down rather than sit in the waiting room. Once a nurse had established that there were vital signs and made me a cup of tea, I was seen by a doctor who was not only extremely  thorough but was concerned and caring enough to ring me the next day to check on me.

The antibiotics are starting to kick in and I’m hoping to stop coughing sometime soon – at least in time for my first interviews next week.  And I’m hoping that Oxford University’s travel insurance will cover the costs – makes you appreciate the NHS.

I also learnt that, because stupid parents are not having their children inoculated, whooping cough is back in a big way.  If you’ve never seen a child prevented from breathing by a continuous cough you can probably imagine it. (Not breathing is how they die.) Aged six I was that child and was relieved to be reassured that I was not having a repeat performance aged 60!