Over the last three days I have progressively hit a downward spiral with illness. I fear I have (another) virus or infection. Of course I do. It has to hit the moment I touch down in Europe for one of the most exciting four weeks of this year. I don't want to miss any classes as I do not want to fall behind, and I do not want to miss any of this amazing city as this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to live like a Dane is exactly that.
I discovered that as a temporary foreign visitor I am entitled to free medical treatment in hospitals and emergency wards if I fall ill, provided that I have not traveled to Denmark with the intention of obtaining treatment and are physically unable to return to Australia. While I had no intention of falling ill, it was inevitable right? Have you met me? Anyhow, the time came yesterday afternoon I could not handle it anymore I had to go and see a doctor to determine the cause of my illness and if it had an 'easy fix' such as antibiotics.
My lovely Kitchen-mate lent me her bike and I set off for the 3 kilometer journey to Amager Hospital to seek treatment. Perhaps because I was a bit foggy due to the illness it took me a good few hundred meters before I realised that I was riding on the wrong side of the road, i.e. I was on the left which is what I am familiar with, when I should have been on the right. The rude gestures and bad tone of voice that the other cyclists were using made this quite clear. So over to the right, which felt very unnerving. I'm sure that this is going to me one of many awkward biking stories that I deliver, because they are ridiculous - they have no inhibitions whatsoever. They will gladly cut off pedestrians, cycle in front of traffic, and if you are moving to slow they will overtake in a very quick and dangerous fashion. So the key take-out here is 'Do Not Fall Behind!'. I have been contemplating wearing a jersey that has 'Sorry I'm Australian!' on the front and back so that they give me a wide berth.
Anyhow, the hospital. I arrived and went straight to the emergency ward (as per my instructions). There I was met with two lovely nurses who took my details and politely told me to wait in the wait room where I would be met with another nurse who would take my vitals and a drop of blood. I then proceeded to wait for three hours before I saw a doctor as I was considered 'low' priority (clearly, stupid Aussie has a mild cold and comes to an emergency ward!). The doctor who saw me was a teeny tiny Danish girl, and she looked me over, listened to my breathing, asked if I had tonsils and then told me to go home and rest for a week. 'No antibiotics?' I asked. 'No'. They are prescribed only when deemed 100% necessary in order to reduce the over-prescribing and potential immunity. This makes sense. 'You have two viruses fighting each other. Come back if you get worse'. Excellent. I could have told you that. But I don't want it to get worse. I'm in Copenhagen!! 'Too bad'. Thanks Doctor, see you next week when I have a serious chest infection.
So back on my bike. Rest for a week. Right.
Last night was horrible, I had to keep checking that my lungs were still in my chest due to the coughing fits. I have decided not to go to school today but rather spend the next 24 hours truly listening to the doctors orders. I'm drinking tea and eating warm foods. I am going to kick this thing!! Thankfully I have my vital greens here, so I've been downing them. Mum also gave me a care pack of cold and flu tablets and strepsils etc. Bless.
I won't be writing for at least two days because there's not a lot of content I can produce from sitting in this room watching The Good Wife. So when something interesting happens (most likely Katie flying in from London on Friday!) I will write again.
xoxo Kri
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