Who Wants To Pay For Healthcare?

By Sarah Kingston

As a person who is a complete and utter klutz, (that’s an uncoordinated person for those of you who need to brush up on your Yiddish), it is a small wonder that I’ve avoided the hospital for most of my life. Up until a week ago I had survived with constant bruises, minor cuts and sprains as a result of my lack of grace but never hurt myself badly enough to sample the delights of the emergency services. This is not counting one incident that involved a car and black ice, not my own lack of coordination.

Last Thursday, however, I had my first run-in with NHS emergency services when I woke up in St. Mary’s  A & E at 2.30 in the morning. The story goes that I was running for a bus, tripped and cracked my head on the pavement. I don’t actually remember any of this but have had a constant reminder throughout the week with the pounding of my brain and a terribly attractive clump of glue holding the back of my skull together.

After finally regaining consciousness I attempted to calm my tear-soaked friend Shell, one of my saviours that night, and proceeded to recite my name, shoe size and address several times. Not at the request of the nurse but for my own peace of mind. Satisfied that I was still the same person, my next overwhelming concern that trumped all others was that I had been cut out of my brand new dress, destroying the thing entirely.

I was feeling quite upset that the NHS had cut me out of a fair amount of money until I spoke to my American aunt the next day and her reaction (following concern and relief) was to point out that it was lucky I received a head injury in the UK instead of the United States. After getting over the fact that she’s used “lucky” and “head injury” in the same sentence, I thought about it and realised it really was quite fortunate.

Whatever anyone says about the inefficiency of the NHS, I was picked up quickly by an ambulance, received rapid and efficient care and even had a very attractive male nurse to look after me! Had I been back in the States I would have woken up with a much more excruciating headache due to an extremely large bill.

This led me to wonder how any of my fellow Americans back home can be fighting so hard against national healthcare. Do they enjoy paying a hefty bill after leaving the hospital? Many argue that the quality of care isn’t as good when health care is nationalised but isn’t it better to start with standard care for everyone and work up from there?

It seems that people are either resigned to paying too much for quality care or receiving sub-standard care for free, but I wonder, why can’t the government of the United States manage to offer free quality care for everyone?

Are Americans better at English?

By Sarah Kingston

As an American doing a reverse immigration back to the English Motherland there are many dangers to consider at any one time.

I’ve had to learn not to end any and all arguments with triumphant references to the Revolutionary War (that’s The American War Of Independence to y’all). I face death daily whilst trying to cross the street and finding that the oncoming traffic is oncoming from the wrong direction… or is it the left direction? But by far the most perilous thing I have encountered is American English vs British English – pronunciation, spelling, word meanings… and all.

The consequences of this difficulty range from embarrassing references to needing to change my “pants” meaning, of course my trousers, to remembering to add unnecessary extra letters to words such as coloUr and humoUr. The most frustrating of all? Not being understood at 2am in the kebab shop when asking for chilli sauce but no “to-ma-do-s”. There may be other factors at play there.

I have, on the whole, accepted my inferior speaking ability with good grace until a few weeks ago when a friend of mine told me that American English is actually closer to English in its earlier, purer forms. And that my good friends, is called vindication. Now before you scroll down to the “post a comment” section, I feel it necessary to add that the aforementioned friend is not only English but also an amateur linguist. You can imagine my surprise, my glee, and it got me thinking.

The British tend to believe that because they started the language and deliver it in a much more pleasing way (this I really can’t deny), that their form of the language must be correct, but I wonder, is it really?

Browsing the internet, which as we all know is the only foolproof source of information, I saw several references offering further validation to my friend’s, and now my own, statements. One site claimed that the dialect of the Ozarks is very close to Elizabethan English.

While the last American Head of State was a complete embarrassment to any form of the English language , or any form of communication whatsoever while we’re at it, he doesn’t represent the speaking capabilities of the rest of us. Some Americans can even string whole sentences together , shocking, I know.

And while the Brits remain confident in their speaking abilities I must say that there are several dialects that are barely intelligible and certainly don’t follow the laws of “the English language.” In fact there is a whole film dedicated to this concept with Henry Higgins asking “Why can’t the English learn to speak?

Readers, please don’t get me wrong, I’m not another puffed up American patriot who thinks that we created the universe and do everything right. There is a reason I’m living in England and the sound of my own American voice often makes me cringe. But accents aside, I do have to wonder – are Americans better at English?

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