this health care is NOT free.

   So much for free health care for all in Canada.

    I am still really mad about this, but I will try to be nice.

    I have been sick now for over a week and I really need my voice to come back in full strength. Last night's show was difficult and I didn't want to hurt my voice further by trying to project on a hoarse voice.  

   So I called out today and decided that I should see a doctor.  You know, to get medicine if that's necessary. To rule out a sinus infection.  To get better so I can go back to work.  

   I call the number of one of the doctors on the city sheet that our company manager gave us.  Perfect, turns out it's only a few blocks from my apartment and they have an opening right now.  

  I get there. The receptionist asks for my Canadian health care card.  I tell her I am American and find out that they don't take American health insurance.  Great.  I ask her how much the cost will be for the visit and she says very nonchalantly, No more than...$300. What? I think. Well, if it's anywhere even near $300, then I should just go because I really can't afford that fee, I say. 

  She looks at me pointedly. You're a performer, right? Yeah, I agree. And you're sick? Yeah, I lost my voice, I say.  Well, at least stay and talk to the doctor; he's very reasonable and we can work something out with you, I am sure.

  So I wait. The doctor walks out, Dr. Hand, which I think is a funny name. I tell him that I am not Canadian and so am not covered and ask how much the fee will be.  He says, Don't you worry about a thing; we can work all that out. We have to make sure that you are better.

  But then he asks me if he can leave for like 10 minutes; turns out he needs to see a doctor that can only see him right then.  I find this ironic and say with a half-smile, Are you sick? 

  The irony is lost on him and he just ignores my inquiry. 

   While I am waiting, I keep worrying about the as-of-yet unnamed fee, so I stand up, go to the receptionist and say, Hey, I think I should just leave. I really don't want to pay a ton of money to be told that I just  have a cold...Once again, she assures me, Don't worry--he will work something out with you.  It will be fine. You need to get better right? 

   So I sit back down. And I wait for Dr. Hand to return from his doctor's visit.  

   Finally, he comes back and escorts me into a room.  The first thing he says is, I can tell you are anxious about the cost; don't be, just relax. Fine. I try to relax. I tell him about losing my voice, I tell him that I am afraid it might be a sinus infection; I tell him I've been sick for over a week and need to get better.  See, whenever anything starts effecting my voice, I instantly get this irrational fear that maybe something is really wrong; that maybe my voice will never become normal again.  Stupid, I know; but this doctor unwittingly preyed upon those fears as he says, Let's take a look at your vocal chords.

   Please God, let my vocal chords be okay, I think.  

    Dr. Hand readies this little apparatus that he says will first thread up my nose, then drop down my throat. This will enable him to look at everything closely.  He asks if I've ever had this done before, I tell him no.  He says it won't hurt at all.

   He is wrong.  At least, it is extremely uncomfortable. It feels horrible, all kinds of wrong.  As he drops it down my throat and then makes me start talking, I convulsively start gagging and then coughing. It's a reflex that I can't help.  At this, he dispassionately, if not somewhat patronizingly, says, Please cover your mouth when you cough.

   As if I was just coughing for fun and not trying to refrain from throwing up on Dr. Hand. I mean, given the choice between simply coughing on him or throwing up, I thought I was taking the polite route. But, I immediately cover my mouth with my hand.  And at this point, I know that I don't like him.  

   He tells me my vocal chords look fine.  And I am happy about that.  Also, that I have a virus. Specifically, a Toronto virus, whatever the heck that means. Oh yeah, and he literally writes on a prescription pad for me to "drink hot water with honey."  

   Then he gets down to business. I would normally charge someone 4 to 5 hundred dollars for this visit, but I understand that you think even three hundred is too much.  Yeah, I agree, I can't afford that. Well, he says, You have to understand that this is my living. Of course, I say enthusiastically, I understand that. He goes on, Can you pay 2 hundred? 

   Gulp.

   I guess I will pay whatever I have to, I capitulate. Great, then 2 hundred it is, he quickly says, ending the discussion.

   Two. Hundred. dollars. To be told that I have a stupid virus...I walk out to pay the receptionist, literally fighting back tears at this colossal waste of money.  She looks up at me and says in her practiced and honeyed voice, I hope that he helped you. I give her a pointed look and say in a flat, emotionless voice, He told me to drink hot water with honey in it.  

   And I promptly leave the room.