By Susanna Rodell
01:00 AM EDT on Thursday, July 6, 2006
WHENEVER the lament goes up about the awful health-care system in America, there's a predictable response: Yes, we have our problems, but this country still has the best health care in the world. To those who still think this is true, I'd like to introduce Billy Badger, of the Australian state of Tasmania.
Dr. Badger (a Ph.D., not a medical doctor) inhabits the office next to mine at the University of Tasmania. He is a professor of German. He is also the brand-new father of a baby girl.
Billy has no private health insurance. He and his wife, Christina, have relied entirely on the public system for prenatal care, for the birth, and for postnatal care of baby and mother. I asked him to describe the experience.
"We had no idea what to expect," he told me. Both parents were healthy and had never as adults set foot in a hospital. Upon finding out they were expecting a baby, they went to a doctor, who directed them to the maternity ward at the Royal Hobart Hospital.
At the Royal, Hobart's big public hospital, they were given the choice of three systems: 1) They could go to a birthing center, run entirely by midwives. 2) They could go to a doctor at the hospital. 3) Or they could stay in the hospital and use a system called KYM, which stands for Know Your Midwife: At prenatal visits they would meet all the hospital's midwives, so that whoever was on duty when the time came, it would be someone familiar. Christina and Billy chose the KYM system.
At first monthly, they visited the hospital's maternity unit and had checkups with midwives. As the pregnancy advanced, the intervals between visits were shorter, becoming weekly in the last month. They saw an obstetrician at their first visit and at the 20th and 36th weeks. If the midwives had seen any problems, the couple would have seen a doctor more often.
"We were never kept waiting at any of these appointments for more than five minutes," Billy said. "There were five or six midwives in all, and they were all pretty good. It was like a family; you had a community feeling."
On the day that Christina went into labor, she and Billy went to the hospital, at first to a PAC, or Pregnancy Assessment Center. This was a two-bed hospital room with a bathroom attached, where Christina was monitored until the staff judged her to be fully in labor. Then they went to the birthing suite.
The suite consisted of a large room with a double bed, a table and chairs, and its own adjoining bathroom. "It was comfortable," said Billy. "It was clean enough in a hospital sense, but also homey enough."
Here the midwives kept an eye on the couple but also tried to stay out of the way unless they were needed. The birth was straightforward.
Emergency equipment was available, just in case, and a doctor was also present, but a midwife eased the baby into the world as Billy stayed in bed with Christina.
"You didn't necessarily get the feeling you were being watched or intruded on," Billy said. "It was more like we were doing it, and they were there to help." For example, after the birth a midwife lifted the baby's legs and said, "Have a look and see what you've got" -- rather than telling them the child's sex.
"After that they left us pretty much alone," Billy said. "The baby was obviously all right, so they just left us for about an hour." Any time they needed help, it was nearby.
Billy, Christina, and the baby stayed together in the suite for five days, just getting to know each other and calling on the staff when they needed a little help with establishing breast-feeding and giving the baby her first bath.
"We could have stayed for up to two weeks if we had wanted," Billy recalled with wonderment. The food was good, too -- a special menu, since the couple are vegetarians.
When they decided to go home, the staff encouraged them to stay another night if they felt at all unsure. The staff also said that the new family could come back and stay a few more nights, if needed, up to the two-week limit.
When the family left, they took with them free diapers and baby wipes. Whatever was needed, said Billy, "if you didn't have it, you got it."
After the family was home, midwives visited every day for three days. A child-health-service nurse also visited, giving Christina and Billy phone numbers they could call at any time of day or night with any problem.
Christina made an appointment with a postnatal physical therapist, who spent 45 minutes with her, coaching her on exercises to get her body back in shape. In six weeks she will be able to go to postnatal-exercise classes with her baby.
How much, I asked Billy, did all this cost the couple?
Nothing, said Billy. Not the prenatal care, not the hospital, not the supplies, not the postnatal care, not the physical therapy. He and Christina have not spent a penny.
And there's more. In the next few weeks, the couple will receive a check from the government for $3,500, to help with the expenses of a new child.
How does Australia pay for all this? With a flat 1.5-percent levy on everyone's income, plus a 1-percent surcharge on people with higher incomes ($50,000 for an individual, $100,000 for a family). So if your taxable income is $45,000, you pay $675 a year.
Still think we in America have the world's best health-care system?