A battery of tests revealed I was suffering from gallstones and pancreatitis (an associated inflammation of the pancreas) and would need to stay in hospital until the infection subsided and my gall bladder had been removed via keyhole surgery.
A week later, I returned home with four small puncture wounds in my abdomen (including one to repair a hernia that was discovered while I was under general anaesthetic), a glass jar containing a single solidified ball of cholesterol and a very large bill.
I'm one of those 30-somethings for whom private health insurance is often considered superfluous. Supposedly fit and healthy, the prospect that we'll be laid up for months undergoing costly medical procedures is fairly remote.
The Federal Government's Lifetime Health Cover initiative, which imposes financial penalties on those who put off joining a fund until their 30s, 40s or later, was aimed at herding younger, lower-risk members of the population back into private health care.
And it worked: private insurance coverage went from about a third of the population to almost half.
But a hullabaloo followed February's news that health fund members would face an average premium hike of almost 7 per cent, and even more in some cases, from last Monday.
People complained that they had been bullied into taking out health insurance and deceived about the real cost of ongoing coverage. A survey issued by the Victorian Government at about the same time revealed that more than half of all privately insured patients admitted to the state's public hospitals did not use their insurance, mainly because they were concerned about gap costs.
Against this backdrop, many others threatened to drop out of the system, chalking up their experience with private cover as an expensive way to get their dental hygiene up-to-date.
But as my own experience amply demonstrates, and as private health insurance advocates routinely warn, it's impossible to predict what's around the corner. Even apparently healthy people can be whisked off to hospital without warning for expensive medical procedures.
Indeed, the cost of the entire exercise, including blood tests, X-rays, ultrasounds, ambulance transport, pain-killers, private hospital accommodation and various specialists fees, soared well past $6000. And a laparoscopic cholecystectomy, the name of the procedure used to remove a gall bladder, is considered a garden variety procedure: my surgeon does about a dozen a week.
As I'm privately insured, most – if not all – of the bills will be paid by my health fund while if I had been admitted to a public hospital my care would have certainly been free. But would it have been comparable care? It's a sensitive question and, as with most issues in medicine, there is a diversity of opinions.
Being a paid-up member of a private health fund means that you generally don't have to wait for elective surgery, which is a huge advantage if the symptoms are painful, debilitating or just a damn nuisance.
While gall bladder operations usually fall into the elective category, the complications I experienced meant that I had to go under the knife within the week. And for the five days it took my inflamed digestive organs to settle down before surgery, I was encouraged to continue occupying my peaceful private hospital bed rather than return to a rambunctious home.
I wondered if the same diagnosis and recommendation would have been made for someone in an equivalent condition entering the emergency department of a public hospital?
President of the Public Health Association of Australia Dr Peter Sainsbury says that although surgeons vary in their approach, there is little to suggest any difference in the quality of care between public and private hospitals.
"If I was really sick, I would actually want to be in the public sector where there are specialists on call 24 hours a day," he says, adding that another promoted benefit of private insurance – choice of doctor – does not necessarily eclipse what's available in the public sector.
According to Dr Sainsbury, public patients who have experienced similar health problems previously are usually allocated the surgeon who treated them last time. "It's not a total lottery in a public hospital," he says.
However, chief executive officer of the Australian Health Insurance Association Russell Schneider argues that because public patients do not choose their doctor, they may be treated by hospital staff with varying degrees of experience.
"Public hospitals have a duty to deal with the most urgent cases, so arrangements for treatment can be disrupted at short notice," he says. "For example, if a major traffic accident or other incident involving a number of casualties occurred, public hospitals would have to give priority to the victims. It is not unusual for (public) patients to find their arrangements for surgery are cancelled at the last minute because of these things."
Another benefit of private insurance is more luxurious accommodation, including a greater chance of a private room with ensuite. This sounds frivolous – until you have spent days exposed to the irritating chatter of visitors for the person in the next bed, the incessant roar of their TV or their time-consuming toilet habits.
One woman who entered the public system for gynaecological surgery found it horrific that her doctor casually discussed "the mangled state of my ovaries" while "the beds were about an inch apart".
But Dr Sainsbury says there are not many 24-bed Nightingale-style wards remaining in public hospitals and, in any case, some patients like the companionship that comes with staying in, say, a four-bed or eight-bed room.
Whatever your preferences, the president of the Health Benefits Council of Victoria, John Rashleigh, urges people not to base their insurance decision on the mistaken belief that "relatively modest" premium rises make health cover poor value for money.
"Like all forms of insurance, you're actually better off if you don't claim," he says. "Who wants to go to hospital just so they can get some money back? I don't know anyone who crashes their car so they can get value out of their insurance."
Mr Schneider points out that most funds offer various forms of "budget cover" for younger people. "These are valuable ways of moving into the insurance system and avoiding penalties for later entry," he explains. "However, people who take out low-price insurance should be aware there may be limitations on coverage or they may be required to share in part of the costs of hospitalisation."
Another approach that's also easier on the wallet is to take out a policy that will fork out for a hospital stay but doesn't cover ancillaries. That's because you won't have to sell your house to replace your glasses or to see a physiotherapist about an aching shoulder, but if you have to spend 150 days in hospital with complications from heart surgery – as one fund member did last year – you might just find yourself $177,639 out of pocket.
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