NHS (stands for National Health Service)

It is Sunday evening. What a long day. This morning we started the day by taking the train into London. The boys and I were excited. We don’t make the commute into London everyday like Andrew does. Andrew slept on the train. He was not so excited about making the connections on the tubes and then looking for the football (soccer) field to meet his colleagues. He committed to playing on the Amnesty International football team. Today was a tournament set up for different non-profit organizations to play against each other in soccer.

The four of us got to the field in time for Andrew to change into the Amnesty uniform. Because Andrew would be playing many games possibly, the boys and I were prepared to go exploring between games to see some sights while in the big city. We waited for the team to show up first and to watch the first game. The games were quick and played on short fields. We watched the first two teams play to get a sense of the new rules and the change of pace.

The game was over and it was now time for Andrew’s team to play. Andrew was in position. The ball went up the field and back again. Andrew was running well but the ball was still on the opposite field. The ball came to Andrew and he made his first touch on the ball. The touch was not as good as liked so he pushed forward to make another attack on the ball. I took a picture right at this moment. His first touch. The next thing I knew after the click of the camera, Andrew was on the ground. I wondered what could have happened. No one was there. No one could have hit him. He lay on the ground grabbing his leg. Then he was on his back and holding his head. I was so confused. Where did the hit come from? There were a group of teammates surrounding him and then helping him off the field. It was a terrible tragedy.

As soon as I came over to him, he blurted out, “I ruptured my Achilles tendon.”

Now Andrew would know this because he had done it before only it was the other heel and it was 4 years ago. It was deja vu. Last time on a basketball court this time on the soccer field. Unfortunaltely we all knew what this meant. All 4 of us knew. We know what this means. A caste, surgery, another cast, 6 weeks of crutches and then rehab and 6 more weeks of rehab and partial caste. 6 months of no running or sports. A year before complete and full recovery. For Andrew, misery. For the boys and I, hovering and taking on extra chores.

Just like that, one moment and pop. He’s out.

It was a bit surreal and we were a bit dumbfounded.

There were questions and thinking. And who knows where a hospital is? and where do we go? and how do you use the medical system? and how do we get home?

We called a taxi to pick us up and take us back to the train station. We thought it was best to go back home and regroup. We knew some friends in the church would know where to go. We took the train back home and made some calls. Tanner dug out the crutches that we happened to bring in the container shipped over. Thankfully our friends were home and knew where to send us. The boys were thrilled to stay with their new friends instead of spending the rest of their day and night at a hospital. I drove Andrew to the hospital while he navigated.

When we got to the hospital we were sent down a long corridor to another room to check in to be seen by a nurse and have our first evaluation. We realized that hospitals are the same everywhere…no one wants to be there. Things are sterile and uncarpeted. There are many sitting areas, televisions, and vending machines. We waited 2 and half hours to be seen for 4 minutes. The nurse agreed with Andrew’s diagnosis that he did have a ruptured Achilles tendon and then sent him to another area of the hospital to get on a list and be seen by a different nurse and then hopefully seen by an orthopedic doctor.

The wait this time was more reasonable but still after an hour we were sore from sitting. We were starting to pace the floor when Andrew was called back to be seen again. This new nurse did the same thing and agreed with Andrew’s diagnosis and agreed that he should be seen by the doctor and would need a caste.

Another half hour wait, Andrew went back with the doctor. This time a doctor gave his advice that was the same as Andrew’s. They scheduled surgery for Wednesday. They gave him a full leg caste, took an X-ray, and sent us home. After 4 and half hours of waiting, we were in the car and heading back to pick up the kids.

Honestly, this was not much more time than what we would have waited in the states. But the good thing, is that this was free. We will not be billed for the surgery or the caste or the X-ray or the diagnosis. Andrew’s colleagues suggested calling an ambulance to come pick him up from the field and take him to the hospital. We were quick to refuse. We know what ambulance means in the states….$$$$$. But even if we had taken the ambulance, it would no have cost us a thing.

I kept saying how weird that medical attention was free. Then Andrew said, “Maybe our country is weird in this situation.”

Hmmmm. Maybe it is strange that in the US, you have to pay to see a doctor or get emergency attention. Maybe the US is the weird one. I did not expect to see the inside of a hospital so soon. But every one was nice and took great care in helping Andrew.

Crutches here we come.

-Melia