Back in June, the months ahead felt like a terrifying prospect. Winter without Christmas? Yikes. Had I known there’d be the double whammy of the UK enjoying its hottest summer on record, I don’t know if I’d have coped (even aside from climate-catastrophe angst.)
I have, however, survived. And, to quote my friend Jedda, ‘It’s not that bad’. She is so right, it really isn’t. In fact, blink and you’d miss it. The days are already so long I’m waking too early. And the sun never stopped feeling warm, even on the coldest days; and shone so often that shadow-appreciation became a favourite pastime.
So aside from my valid complaint that houses here are essentially glorified wooden sheds, the reality is that winter here is a doddle.
Nevertheless, before this became clear, I panic-planned some ways to cope. Activities I might resent spending time on in summer. Nothing glamorous or sexy, but – as it turns out – possibly lifesaving.
First, I got on top of all things medical. Because I am living in a country with:
A Public Health System That Works.
A remarkable discovery. In March, a simple procedure – something I’d literally been waiting years to have done in the UK – was scheduled and completed within a couple of weeks; at minimal cost and at times chosen by me. This involved being sent for an ultrasound without needing to wait weeks or months – no – I could just… turn up. Walk in off the street. And have it done there and then. For free.
What the actual…?
The only downside was the need to stay out of the sea for a couple of weeks afterwards while I healed. Which made me think: If only I’d waited till winter… And so the seeds were sown for:
My Winter of Medical… Content.
I have spent the last couple of months strategically attending to all the other medical and dental issues I could think of. This has been not without challenges, particularly to my sense of identity. Having been blessed with excellent health to date, I somehow absurdly assumed I always would be.
Apparently not – exactly. The recent experience of a colonoscopy was not something that would have entered my consciousness back at home; but here the bowel cancer screening campaign was well advertised, and in my get-it-done-in-winter mindset I went for it, despite no concerning symptoms.
And damned lucky for me that I did. A ‘Very Large’ polyp (directly quoting the doctor who did the procedure) was summarily removed. I spent an unnerving week waiting for the histology results. Its size suggested a 40% chance of cancer…
This was a big challenge to my sense of self as someone fundamentally healthy. What if I was not? For the first time experientially rather than just theoretically, I really grappled with my own mortality.
It was an opportunity to embrace how little we can ever know or plan what’s coming next for us. I am reminded of my mother-in-law’s wise Inshallah refrain. And, after one slightly sleepless night, it became a chance to practice an acceptance of myself as just another miniscule part of the endless unfolding of the universe, destined for destruction along with all else...*
I wish I could honestly say I spent more time meditating on this, but the biopsy result arrived quickly, showing all nasties had been removed; so my practice was short-lived.
From looking into the results further, and as far as can be surmised, it seems very likely that without removal it would have turned nasty within a few years – requiring far more drastic surgery and treatment.
Maybe I’m being unfair to the NHS, but I just can’t see myself having had this attended to in the UK without months of waiting, hassle and uncertainty.
And so, when I proclaim – with a satisfying dash of melodrama: Living here might have saved my life! – I really do mean it.
Beyond the Life Saving…
Slightly less existentially, but far more practically, sore thumb joints have bothered me for years, but it never even crossed my mind to see a GP about them back at home. My UK experience with chronic pain is you’re lucky to get on a waitlist for something you’ll then be celebrated for getting an initial appointment for 18 weeks later. If targets are met. So I tend to take the pragmatic approach, which I suspect is built into the current system, of Just Don’t Bother.
But now, since my winter medical campaign began, I have joined the legions of others across the globe who can claim to suffer from:
Arthritis!
(An affliction I associate so strongly with wizened old women swapping litanies of health complaints on the top of London buses – this must surely be a memory from childhood, etched deep in my psyche...)
Well, Crones of London Transport, I am now one of you!
And possibly just as tedious to listen to.
Because I can’t stop feeling excited – and consequently banging on about – Australia’s public health system.
To understand my thumb pain I saw my local GP, who immediately sent me down the hallway where blood tests were done within minutes; followed by an ultrasound and some X-rays – all of the free-and-happens-straight-away variety.
This was all it took to confirm my new, rather unwelcome, diagnosis. Basically, I have the thumb equivalent of needing knee replacements – but without the option of surgery. Bummer.
However, since then, I have seen a Hand Specialist three times (who even knew they existed?); and been set up with thumb splints and some hilarious finger-exercises to reduce the pain – which is gratifyingly already working.
Too Easy!
To avoid falling into tedious-Bus-Crone territory, I won’t detail the myriad other appointments I have attended for various other issues – mine and other family members – but suffice to say I have spent winter hurtling from one appointment to the next; all within a system that feels smooth, respectful, reassuring and supportive.
I confess I don’t have a full understanding of the differences between these two health services. I know I pay some money here, on top of what the public subsidy Medicare covers; compared to none there. I know it’s not a huge amount – $350 (£175) for the colonoscopy – although that’s a very subjective perspective. I know there are many easily accessible specialist services here, in pleasant settings – in stark contrast to the NHS’s long waiting lists and creaking infrastructure.
To me this seems completely wonderful. I am a convert to whatever it is that allows this system to function as it does. Thank you, Australia. And I am also aware of the enormous disparity of access to healthcare across the globe and, yet again: my immense privilege.
So here I am, on a warm but overcast spring day, in September. I’m still bamboozled by the date, as this is a month of new beginnings, yes – but of the academic and school year kind, not spring blossom and magnolias bursting. But that is what surrounds us now on local streets. I still find it unfathomable – a sign that in my middle age I have become horribly ancient and inflexible.
As evidenced by the fact I’m wearing silly thumb splints.
But I’m in less pain than before, and hold a sense of enormous appreciation and gratitude. Possibly the same thing? Whatever: I’m feeling gratitude in medicinally large doses.
Coming soon(-ish?)… What I Did in the Shadows, Part Two:
How Comedy Improv Saved My Sanity. Yes, seriously…
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* P.S. My small brush with mortality reminded me of the philosopher Seneca’s Stoic premeditation which I can’t resist sharing in part here:
The wise will start each day with the thought, "Fortune gives us nothing which we can really own."… We live in the middle of things which have all been destined to die.
It’s a sentiment I find helpful and surprisingly soothing, though by his measure I am not one of the wise. Read his longer quote, as relevant to 2025 as to any previous millennia, here.
Im enjoying your posts Claire. Envious of the medical situation there....blood tests down tbe corridor...who knew such ease could be possible! Hooray for finding big polyp. Wonderful photos. Xx