JETMONEY is always sensible about its travel insurance given the amount of moving around the world we do. Better to be safe than sorry (or broke, or both) we figure. I've had too many friends come off badly after motor biking accidents in Asia, climbing falls in Europe or evacuations from ski fields in New Zealand or the US.
Having insurance, though, is one thing. Getting the help - and the right sort of help - when you need it is quite another.
Embarking on a gentle cruise across the relatively smooth waters of the Baltic Sea entering the 31st week of pregnancy didn't sound like a dangerous gig. That was until I started having seriously strong contraction-like pains yesterday during a day's walk-about in St Petersburg.
Braxton Hicks contractions - a fake practice run for the real thing that get the body ready for birth - were not new to me. I'd had them late in my last pregnancy a couple of years ago, and had been having them, though mildly, for some months with this one. The pains I felt yesterday and during last night were akin to that experienced in the birthing suite.
It was reassuring to me that, although powerful and long-lasting, the contractions were stand-alone events. I wasn't having regular bursts of pain. So I figured this wasn't the onset of premature labour. But the prospect of potentially giving birth in Russia - we weren't due in Finland, which seemed a safer option to me, for another 24 hours - was too frightening for words.
So I rang my Sydney obstetrician on his mobile and was shocked when he answered almost immediately. That never happens. More amazing, however, was that he did so while skiing at the NSW ski resort of Thredbo.
He said I should get myself into an American hospital pronto. You'd think that'd be easy to do. Not in Russia, particularly since I didn't have a visa to get off the boat if I wsn't part of an organised tour. Even if I did manage to escape, I'd have to find some mode of transport - all dodgy at the best of time - to get me from the industrial port where we were parked and into the city, a 25-minute drive away. Cabs are practically non-existent within the customs security gate of the port which is 5km (3 miles) away, and unless you've organised a private car - something the cruise ship requires 24 hours' notice to do for you - you face a long, dusty, noisy walk to the gate or use of a shuttle bus which runs for surly-looking port workers. Not terribly enticing options for a seriously fat woman.
Anyway, I waddled off to the ship's doctor and filled him in on my medical history and what had come to pass in those days, and he didn't hesitate to refer me straight off the ship and into the arms of the American institution. I wouldn't have got past the passport control gals portside without the ship's documentation and an escort from the US medical centre, who met me and another couple of afflicted Aussies on board the ship a couple of hours after my initial consultation.
In those hours, JetMoney had had time to do some internet research on the US Medical Centre's local branch and had read a warning that the cost of its services could be "heart-stopping". I informed my fellow passengers of this as we sped through the streets of St Petersburg in an ambulance-bus thing that may once have had suspension but didn't anymore. I figured if anything was going to induce labour, this would be it.
We arrived without further incident and I was dealt with promptly and efficiently. I didn't like hearing the bit about the possibility of being grounded - no travel whatsoever by air, sea or land - if the examination turned up certain sad results. I'd be trapped in Russia and treated orally or intravenously with anti-cramping medication until someone deemed me travel-worthy, if I ever got to that stage before giving birth. Yikes!
Luckily, everything looked about as good as it should at this stage of the game, and I got out of there with strict instructions to lie down for two days, partake in no sex for at least a week and carrying a packet of some suspicious Russian tablets used as a front-line treatment to help stop premature labour.
JetMoney's Web research into the drugs has revealed they're not used much - if at all - in western medicine, and is therefore more than a bit reluctant to start popping them until I can raise my obstetrician on Thredbo's less-than-lofty slopes once more for the all clear.
I was back on board the ship for lunch after another ripper of a ride in the so-called ambo, feeling great peace of mind and only slightly less wealthy. The whole exercise had cost me less than $US300 which didn't seem like a bad deal at all.
Comments