On my first visit to Sahlgrenska casualty department my attention was focused, albeit blurrily, on two things: the swish flooring tiles and the fact that I was wearing socks with slip-on sandals in a public place. I can however excuse myself on both points. Searing pain on my right-side had bolted me out of bed at 1am, ghost-faced, sweating, and moaning like a moose in labour, leaving scant time to consider sartorial choices. Said pain also forced me to walk doubled-over, meaning the stylish floor tiles, not to mention my socked and sandaled feet, were the object of pain-addled attention.

Thankfully my stay at Sahlgrenska was a one-night affair but it got me idly wondering about the lack of hospital reviews. You’d have thought that Göteborgs Posten’s pedantic penchant for ranking, rating, reviewing everything this side of Stockholm would have stretched to the local hospitals. They are after all essential, must-see places on the itinerary of anyone in serious pain. And no matter whether you’re planning a spur-of-the-moment organ-failure, a spontaneous surgery spree, or just browsing with a broken leg, forewarned is forearmed.

Think of it as a combined restaurant/hotel visit. Turning up without a reservation as I did, I looked around for the maitre d’ but could only find an automated number-ticket machine, the sight of which led me initially to believe I’d inadvertently walked into the bank. I was soon shown to my table at a well-appointed spot and I promptly lay down on it. The furniture was typical plain functionalism and the décor Scandinavian sparse subtlety. There was a wait of almost an hour however for the first course, opiate-infused painkillers served without panache through a needle in the belly. But boy it was worth the wait! Their delicious blend of immediate sweetness and soothing satisfaction were only slightly off-set by a dizzying sense of time and place and later general nausea.

After initial consultation with a senior waiter, I chose a between-course appetizer of x-rays. However the waiter hadn’t realised that there was a 10 hour wait on that particular dish. By way of compensation I received 3 more starters while I waited plus a complimentary bag of saline solution inconveniently hung from a coat-peg on the wall and served direct into my arm. Inconvenient in that prevented me getting to the bin when my stomach decided it’d had one too many starters. Still, the staff were quick and efficient in setting things straight.

Although the x-ray itself was speedily-served standard fare that you might expect from any mid-range diner, the head waiter took the best part of 5 hours to bring the results. Once these were discussed, he was able to recommend where I could get a room for the night and suggest a suitable main course. For this I had opted for tea and freshly-made sandwiches outside my room in a specialist unit on the 7th floor. Welcoming homely décor combined with a fantastic view over Göteborg. The service here too was a real step-up, with the staff conveying a genuine sense of care and concern.

The room itself was a comfortable but make-shift affair; due to my status as a non-Swede I was to be initially isolated from other guests while they checked I hadn’t picked up anything nasty on my travels to deepest suburban London. Dessert was a bag of mini Dimes served by my girlfriend whilst I took in the view from my window and more painkillers through my arm.

Would I have done anything differently had I known all this in advance? Of course not. I had other things on my mind when I set out for the evening. I wasn’t even properly dressed for the occasion!

By Russel Turner