Health Care Abroad
October 28, 2006
"Congratulations, it's a boy!" a German nurse announced to 33-year-old Radek Naruc, whose wife became the latest Pole to flee her country's creaky medical system for better care across the border in Germany.
European Union legislation grants patients from the 25 member-states free health care within the block for medical emergencies. Poles -- whose country joined the EU in 2004 -- are taking advantage of this clause, flocking for better treatment in places like the German town of Schwedt, which received six times the number of pregnant women this year than last.
"In emergency cases, we're obliged to receive patients from other European countries," said Janusz Rudzinski, head of maternity services at Schwedt's Uckermark clinic.
"I'm convinced that many Poles use (the law) as a pretext to give birth here," he added, "but I'm not a police officer conducting an investigation."
"Health tourism"
The European Commission is also aware of the block's "health tourism" phenomenon. After monitoring waves of Germans and Scandinavians who have traveled to Poland for dental care, it is now faced with the reverse when it comes to Poles giving birth in Germany.
In early September, it launched an inquiry to determine under what conditions health care received overseas should be authorized and reimbursed.
But to hear it from Naruc, the recent Schwedt birth was truly an emergency.
"We were shopping at a commercial center when my wife had contractions," explained Naruc, a resident of the Polish town of Szczecin, 50 kilometers north of Schwedt. "So we went to the closest hospital, and we were very well received."
Little things count
Decent natal care isn't the only perk here. Women giving birth at the Schwedt clinic can also enjoy aromatherapy, acupuncture and massages. They can chose to stay in single or double rooms and have loved ones with them.
Such luxuries contrast sharply with Polish hospitals, short of money and personnel, and where economizing stretches even to skimping on meals.
"The conditions here are much better than in a Polish hospital," said Andrianna Dubownik from the Polish seaside town of Gdansk, who recently underwent a cesarean section. "In Poland, we have to bring our own things for the child, pay for the anesthesia, a cesarean," she added. "Here, everything is free. And it's also easier to be understood."
Poles aren't only turning up at German clinics as patients. Six out of eight doctors working in Schwedt's maternity service are Polish, including head doctor Rudzinski. The clinic offers brochures in Polish and even hired a German-Polish interpreter for its maternity services.
Footing the bill
"Polish hospitals need to offer a better welcome if they want to avoid these kinds of situations," said Rudzinski, who immigrated to Germany 25 years ago.
Dubownik, the cesarean patient, will spend a week at Schwedt at three times the price tag of a hospital stay in Poland.
"We're going to send the bill to the German insurance agency, which will then sent it to the Polish health fund which should settle it," said Rudzinski, whose clinic has so far earned 300,000 euros ($376,000) from its Polish patients.
There is little Poland's NFZ national health fund can do about the situation, one official there said.
"When a country sends us a general (health) bill, the births aren't specified," said Agnieszka Bartczak of NFZ, although legally births at overseas clinics should only be emergency situations.
Rudzinski backs a more open-borders approach to health care.
"A patient should have the right to be treated where he wants and to be reimbursed for treatment overseas," the doctor said. "National egos are too big in this regard."