My Experiences With Socialized Medicine

I moved to Tre'ddol, Wales, UK in 2001. To be exact, I left America on September 18, 2001. Just 7 days after 9/11.
Before the terrorist attack, I was excited to leave the US and start a new adventure. While I had never lived in Wales before, I had spent many years in England, both studying at University and apprenticing in a hotel kitchen.
I was born in England, and so, warts and all, I was able to live there as a citizen - work as a citizen, pay taxes as a citizen, etc. I was looking forward to it!
About 3 weeks after my arrival, I got sick. I mean, really sick.
I have Asthma, so something as simple as a cold can easily develop into a serious situation. This time a had the flu. And not a flu strain that I had been in contact with before, so I was even more unprepared. It threw me for a loop. I really believe that I came close to death that evening, and if someone hadn't checked on me that night, I probably would have fallen asleep. Perhaps forever. Thank God they did!
But I digress.
When it was apparent to the person checking up on me that I could not talk, let alone walk for want of breath, I was scooped up and delivered to the nearest hospital.
I was immediately ushered into a curtained 'room' and given oxygen. I sat there for hours sucking that oxygen down. I was checked up on periodically, to see if it was working enough to send me home. It wasn't working. I needed more treatment.
And that's when I got checked into the Hospital itself.
I was 25 years old, in a foreign country where I hardly knew a soul, and I couldn't get in touch with any of my friends or family in the US. I don't mind telling you that I was terrified.
Turns out I had good reason.
The Hospital officials weren't sure where to put me since I was so young, and they had a very limited amount of beds available. I ended up in the Cancer Ward.
I kid you not!
Meanwhile, I am told nothing. I was brought up to the ward, placed in a bed, hooked up to an IV, O2 monitor, heart monitor, the works. It's the middle of the night, everything is dimmly lit and I have to speak in whispers.
I asked questions of the 'sisters' (nurses): what kind of medication are you giving me? Why am I being admitted? When will I see a doctor? I was given non-answers.
Meanwhile, I'm the new arrival in the ward. I'm in large room with 5 other women.
Since it was the middle of the night, everyone was asleep. It was eerie.
I didn't sleep at all that night. I had never been admitted to a hospital for anything before in my life. In fact, the only other hospital experience I had was of seeing my mother in the ICU after a car accident. Obviously, the association was not a good one.
At 6 am everyone started to wake up. A new crew of Sisters were bustling around, there was medicine to be given, tests to take, blood to draw.
I'm thinking, cool. Maybe now I can find out about what's going on here.
I ask a Sister who takes my temperature, blood pressure, etc. when can I see someone who will tell me what is going on? Apparently, the Doctor will come around 2 pm.
I am asked to fill out a form giving a choice of breakfast, lunch and dinner items.
Do I like tea or coffee? Tea of course, white. With sugar.
Pretty soon, I start getting questions from the other ladies in the Ward.
I find out they are here for cancer treatment. Have you ever seen someone go through a battle with cancer? It's not pretty. I had recently seen my grandmother go through it, and a there was woman in the ward obviously at the very end stage of the disease.
I immediately started getting paranoid. Was there something the doctors knew that I didn't?
Where's the pay phone, anyway?