The days are getting longer, U.S. government employees are filtering back into Ukraine, the Post is full bodied again. But in this time of return and renewal donХt feel overly optimistic. You could get sick. Thankfully, the Ukrainian government is looking out for us. As every ex-pat who recently crossed into Ukraine knows, foreign nationals (with few exceptions) are expected to buy state medical insurance at this countryХs doorstep. Ukrainians need not worry; those lucky dogs are born into the system. What the authorities seem to be doing here, in their infinite munificence, is quite touching. They are taking a pre-emptive strike; they are seeking to avert a situation similar to that which is occurring in the United States where many residents live without the comfort and stability that a universal insurance plan provides. The uninsured among us who arrived in Ukraine uncertain about what we would do in an emergency can now breathe easier when we remember that pink slip that was forced upon us at Boryspil. Even those with premium plans back home no doubt realize that one can never be over-insured, that more is better when it comes to health care. It is refreshing to leave behind the tedious debate over managed health care (a red herring for health care run by cruel corporate interests) and embrace UkraineХs generous universal health-care ideology. The governmentХs missionary zeal to insure equally those among us who are already set and those who are absolutely uncovered is really generous. It humanizes us all; no longer are we cogs for corporate profit, but we are living, caring people entitled to everything that Ukraine has to offer. So what if it costs us a bit when we arrive at the airport? Shelling out a couple bucks (more for those who honestly admit they are planning a lengthy sojourn here) is peanuts compared to the value of knowing that anywhere in Ukraine you can march straight into a poliklinika and receive service fit for a full citizen. It can even take an injured or ill party as far as the operating room. Sure, itХs a no frills (and no anesthetics) operating room, but at least you neednХt pay a dime at the hospital. Some foreigners grumble about the confusing ritual of buying insurance at the border; they liken it to extortion. Indeed, it might seem suspicious to those unfamiliar with the ideal of a government actually helping the people. Those with little command of the language might be confused by the prospect of buying something for some unintelligible reason. But I imagine that even they are glad once it is explained just how far that pink sheet can take them. There are, of course, those ex-pats who remain convinced the well-intentioned, if hard-up, government is taking them for a ride. These naysayers point to the inconsistencies in the governmentХs attempt to levy insurance payments at various ports of entry, the fact that they only make you buy a weekХs worth of insurance regardless of how long you plan on staying, the similarity between paying for the policy and paying off the police. They say it is a thinly veiled guise to make us pay unfair tariffs. But these people are cynics. I bet that neither they nor any of their friends have ever been to a poliklinika, and they do not know what sort of treatment they are eligible for. Not that I have ever been, or even plan to go. But IХm willing to give the government the benefit of the doubt. After all, we all know what respect it has for the lives of its citizens, and the fact that ex-pats are eligible for the exact same type of treatment as citizens proves what high esteem the government holds us in.
