I love the NHS

Last time I needed a medical and a pile* of injections I went along to my local doctor. Which happened to be a Student Health service as I was (duh) a student. No problem, you might think. I certainly didn't. Surely the travel concious, injection happy student would find their local student health an ameniable source for travel related fun at reasonable prices, right? After all, students are poor. And they want to travel a lot (I know: insane paradox) So surely student health services should be competitive with their pricing of injections, medicals and the like.

Well they are competitive... With the black market and international gangsters. Unfortunatley, not with the real world. £40 for medicals, and vaccination rates moving into triple figures for a few weeks in Eastern Europe... I felt burnt. Physically scarred for life. Well, okay, maybe not. But I was really, really angry for about ten minutes. And then I realised that I was with lovely student health. And not in the real world of the NHS and its horrific prices. And I felt greatful.

Cut to this year. I'm now planning on leaving the country for a year. Working in rural Brazil and India. I'm going to need a lot of injections. And one heck of a medical. But now I'm not a student anymore. I'm a real person working in the real world. (Note: the fact that I still look sixteen and work in a university is incidental to this story) I wouldn't be able to go to friendly student health anymore. I'd need to go to a proper doctor's. Cue cold sweats. Nervous nights tossing and turning, adding up the exorbitant prices in my head and waiting for the pain of the dawn.

Things started as expected. Yellow Feaver jabs (essential for South American travel) were provided at £40. I was already crying on the inside. Then I went back for Hepetitus A, B and Typhoid. I got the jabs. I felt the pain. I waited for the bill and... nothing. Zero. Zip. What would have cost £11.50 per shot in student world was now provided for less than the price of half a Chomp bar... And then came the medical. The same lengthy excercise in weight, measurement and genital feeling as I'd gone through previously. For the incredible cost of... £10. (Or, the price of 50 Chomp bars) Elation.

To summarise: Total cost of injections and medicals from student health = skywards of £120 (I'm not sure exactly. I was so moritified by the cost I never had them all. I mean, when was the last time you actually *got* Rabies?) Total cost from my lovely NHS local doctor = £48.50. Give or take some more money for anti-malarials at a later date. But still, the point is made. Although prices may vary and your local doctors may not be quite so worldly and decent as mine. And maybe your student health service is the paragon of value for money and kindness. Whatever the case, the conclusion is this: don't register with student health. Ever. They may be convinient and make all the right noises about being student friendly and whatever. But, really, what they really do is remind you what you should really love about the NHS: not paying inflated prices for feeling your testicles. God love 'em.

(* = unsure of the plural for injections. A pile? An armful? Loads? The mind boggles)