The cracking sound, followed by a crashing rumble, was the most terrifying thing I’d heard in ages. I knew in that moment something had gone horrible wrong. I instantly started to get dressed. The night was pitch black, swallowing any sense of direction.. I got around to putting on my pants when I heard my girlfriend walking again. If she’s still walking, I thought, maybe it’s just a bad bruise. Wishful thinking, as I’d soon find out. After a short while she came up again, back to the bed. It didn't look good. The pain made her breath heavily. I scrambled to fetch painkillers and a bag of frozen mango pieces. We hoped cooling the ankle would improve the situation. Only the painkillers worked properly that night. Apparently she had gone down the narrow stairs and had slipped when she reached the most narrow spot of the staircase. The last three steps wind sharply to the left, creating a hazardous area that remains risky even with proper lighting. We had joked about who would fall down first. Well, that was now sorted.
The next morning brought no relief but many questions. The ankle was now properly swollen. Some questions had to be answered quickly. What is the right type of doctor for this situation in Canada? Who will accept us? I remembered that Canada must have something like a general health hotline like in Germany (116117). This hotline can help you find the right type of doctor for your injury and also where the nearest one is to be found. I called the Canadian version of the hotline (811) to get some answers, as well as the hotline of our German international insurance (ADAC). The nurse that called us back from the 811 hotline explained to us that we should go to a Walk in Clinic, which we quickly found with Google. On the other hand, I was disappointed with the support from our international insurance. They didn't know who we should consult and could not name a proper doctor other than one they probably 56 minutes away from us by car. I don't need to clarify why this was no option. Off we went to the Walk in Clinic. Like Odysseus started his journey, we didn't know on what odyssey we went.
An Uber brought us to the Walk in Clinic. We had to pay $50, fill out a form, and we were ready. The hours went by, and I enjoyed either reading Reddit posts or the memoirs of Patrick Stewart. I was already 150 pages in and wondered what else he could share on those 436 pages when we got called up. Two very young doctors greet us in a room in the back. Everywhere are documents and folders. The walls are plastered with shelves full of binders. I am starting to feel claustrophobic. Then the usual question are asked. How did it happen? Did you hear a cracking sound? Does this hurt? One of the doctors examines the foot and Sarah doesn't feel any pain. We all agree it seems to be a bruise and nothing worse. It seems to me that the one half of the people in the room wish it to be a bruise, and the other half isn't really sure. Two screens are ordered: x-ray and ultrasound. One for the bones and one for the muscles. We are given documents and receipts for the insurances. We didn't check the documents given to us, as we are occupied enough with ourselves. An error we will repeat more in the future. The clinic for screening isn't far, so we walk there. In hindsight, I am just baffled how stupid this was of us. We still thought it might be just a bruise. Then again, more waiting. Oh, and then there was the document. Of course, it wasn’t for Sarah. Why would it be? Apparently, someone named Susanne Draupner also needed treatment. They had to send the correct one via e-mail, and I don't want to start how often I had to ask the receptionist of the clinic to correct the spelling of my girlfriend's last name on some documents they gave us. The Canadians love their "H" in Voigt. OK, back to waiting: I learned more about Stewards life while Sarah was more and more in pain. Nothing serious, but still concerning. After the x-ray was done, we were told the results would be sent to the doctors in three hours. Nothing we could do there, so let's go back to the Airbnb.
Mind you, we were living at that time below the roof and there were many stairs to climb. It took quite a while till we were up there. We laid on the bed exhausted, happy to have a break. While I was making dinner, three hours later, my girlfriend phoned the walk in clinic and learned that no documents had been sent over. We were told to use painkillers for now till the results are in. We didn't think we would end the day without treatment. I don't want to go: "In Germany...blabla" but seriously. We would have gone to an orthopaedic doctor and would have walked out with at least crutches. The frozen mango pieces needed to work overtime this night. The next day would bring more information as we had an appointment for the ultrasound in the morning.
Back at the screening clinic, we learned that the results hadn't even left the clinic. Although they were able to share the results with us now: the ankle was broken. The ultrasound also verified the x-ray results. Shit. This is bad, like really horrible, maybe it's going to need an expensive surgery, type of bad. Our international insurance doesn't pay anything in advance. Now what, we asked ourselves? The nurses in the screening clinic told us to go directly into a fracture clinic. I learned a few minutes later on the phone that such clinic isn't a walk in clinic and we needed an appointment, which could be first next week. I grew frustrated and asked the person on the phone what we should do with a fractured ankle, while we wait a whole week for an appointment. Silence answered me, and I reconsidered. The person on the other side couldn't do anything other than share the information with me. I apologized, shared my thanks and hang up. Time for a war council. I sat down with my girlfriend, and we discussed our options: Back to the walk in clinic and hope to get the earliest possible appointment, or go directly to the emergency room. Considering the looming Damocles sword above our heads as we were expecting some hefty bills from an ER visit, we went back to the walk in clinic. You know already what awaited us. The waiting time wasn't shorter this time. We were called up the moment I had to take an important call. While I heard some great news, my girlfriend heard some bad news. When I had finished my call, she was already on her way out. "We need to go to the ER now" she told me. She had spoken with another doctor, and he had made it clear. If we want urgent treatment, the emergency room was our only option. He also gave us the tip to noticeably limp in front of the staff. Thanks for the tip. that would not be a problem.
We arrived in the emergency room quickly after that. It was exactly what you’d expect—packed with people who all looked worse off than us. We went got registered, triaged and after that treated without paying a cent. The invoice will be sent two weeks later. I am looking forward to that e-mail, NOT. The staff by the way was super helpful and kind. We are immensly gratefu for that. My girlfriend got another x-ray as the CD-ROM, we had handed over, had been eaten by a computer. The scans couldn't be read. "It's a software problem, sorry". Whatever, so more waiting, and then finally she got a cast and crutches. Did I already say that my girlfriend never stopped working in that time? Just want to mention it in between that in Canada you don't get some time of work if you still have a healthy two hands and a working brain. Who needs rest for the body to heal, am I right? The doctor was so nice to give us a sick note for the first day, which allows her to be sick on company time.
But wait, there is more to the drama. If you think we are now happily limping into the sunset, you are mistaken. We were told in the ER that a fracture clinic would call us for an appointment. This meant my girlfriend could focus completely on her work. The call came the next day which positively surprised us and soon after that we found ourselves in another waiting room inside the Kensington Western Hospital. The staff there was amazing, thoughtful and very kind. In order to avoid a surgery they tried treating the broken bones with a pressure cast. The x-ray after putting the cast on revealed that this had failed and a surgery is needed. For us, without universal Ontario healthcare meant that we had to possibly pay hospital bills in the ten thousands. The surgeon suggested, rightly so, that we could just go back to Germany to get it fixed there. This would mean the end of our Canadian adventure, though, before it had even properly started. For a moment, the world looked bleak.
There we were, sitting in the hospital, the Damocles sword seemingly having fallen—or had it? This marked the turning point, the pivotal moment where a determined effort and a stroke of luck combined to deliver the heroic breakthrough that turned the tide in our favour. The doctors had shared with us that the surgery would be paid by OHIP if we obtain a health card. Well, what can I say? After a trip to the nearest Ontario Service center we are both proud owners of a temporary health card. I doubt, with the ongoing postal strike, that we will ever hold our real cards in our hands, though.
The state right now: We are now awaiting the confirmation of the hospital and a date for the surgery.
"Everything will be okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end." John Lennon