My Hilarious Tale of Healthcare in Portugal for Expats

There is nothing funny about health! Except, perhaps, when you travel abroad, and find yourself at the mercy of new doctors, pharmacies, languages, and care that is wholly foreign to you.

Sometimes you just have to laugh, right? Well, I did. And maybe you will too.

Here is my tale of an American Werewolf in Paris-oops, not that one-an American Werewolf in Londo-nope! not that one, either-how about we try this again:

Here is my tale of an American New Yorker in Portugal seeking healthcare.

I had lived a very sheltered life.

My travel outside of the US mainly consisted of treading amongst ancient Mayan cities and a handful of beach destinations.

I am talking about sipping Dark & Stormy cocktails from the Gulf of Mexico down to the Bermuda Triangle and a few island spots in between.

I don’t think that I ever even considered travel health insurance until I decided to visit Europe for the first time. Oh, to be young and dumb, right?

To cross the pond, as they say, my wife and I decided to spend a couple of weeks traversing northern, central, and southern Portugal a few years back.

Being of sounder mind for this trip, the lady wisely decided to follow Josh and Kalie from ExpatsEverywhere’s advice and get Nomad insurance from SafetyWing to cover both the travel and health insurance in one easy monthly charge of about fifty bucks (looks to be near $56 now but check their site here for options).

The missus knew that I would inevitably forget about my chronic sinus infections (my memory is awful).

To be fair, I like to think I am so optimistic that I am just wishing my chronic health condition may just stop for the rest of my life.

I can hear my fair lady shaking her head in annoyance right now.

Either way, loving to travel and fly, the air pressure, stale oxygen, and the bevy of ruthless germs on board have a knack for giving me near instantaneous sinusitis.

I am talking to the point where I get dangerously high fevers and approach bronchitis (sometimes we skip straight to pneumonia) with no prior warning aside from a headache.

It is often too painful to stand or sit upright.

And I get far too many headaches to assume they’re all sinus-related and that the plague will descend upon my relatively healthy body in a matter of hours, instead of days.

What is funny is that I was terrified of getting a doctor appointment, trying to get medication, and still having enough Euros in my pocket to order another pastel de nata with my abatanado (probably my biggest concern for the custard tart is to die for).

Somehow, I always get this impulse to try and ride it out and let my immune system ‘do its job for a change’ so I can save a few dollars.

Well, considering I nearly always require the magic salve of an antibiotic to rid me of the infection, avoiding the doctor is in a word: dumb.

My wife: “You’re a dumb-dumb.”

I may have paraphrased that a little for the G-Rating.

Long story short, and I have now also sought and found healthcare in Portugal when I needed it badly while living in Porto, and the experience was largely the same.

I feared the co-pay.

I shook at the thought of the wait times to get an appointment with a doctor.

And I trembled to the point of dropping my phone as I scrolled to view the coverage through my partially covered face.

It turns out that the ‘care’ part of medical care or healthcare is still being followed in the Iberian’s gorgeous country of Portugal.

A phone call led to a pleasant person making me a telehealth appointment that would take place in just a few hours.

Remote health is not discouraged here, because it saves time and money and the sick patient from trying to stand, and unlike in the US, the profit part does not wager into the experience.

The doctor was pleasant, empathetic, and agreed with my personal assessment that I had been stricken again with my insidious sinuses (oh, the story my schnoz could tell!).

What I had dismissed as private “fifty dollar –yeah, right, it’s not real- health insurance” did its job; my cost for the appointment: $0.

Now, when you move to Portugal expats, you can become a resident.

Though you still need private healthcare in Portugal for expats, it is often inexpensive (a family of three for about $200 a month, yes, please!).

If you want to know more check out the ExpatsEverywhere video “How Portugal's Universal Healthcare System Works“:

A main perk of being a resident is the cheaper medication costs (many are free or close to it) that comes with your residency.

Now, I had to suck it up and go for broke and pay out of pocket for my antibiotic, as I was not a resident.

And if you need to easily transfer money online for unexpected expenses while traveling abroad, Wise is phenomenal and this link here gives you a fee-free transfer.

My face was swollen and I thought I dreamed it…

But I spent a begrudging eight euro. Less than $10 US.

The horror!

Check out the new ExpatsEverywhere video: “Portugal’s Citizenship Law Change: The Truth They’re Not Talking About”

While traveling from place to place, we often need to exchange USD or Euro into different currencies. TransferWise makes that very easy using their app and debit card.

Click the button below to get a free Wise transfer.

Thinking of moving to Portugal?

Kalie is available for one-on-one consultations, or you can bundle a course and a consult.