The real cost of “flying back home for treatment” (and why it might just be the most irrational financial decision people keep doing)
Let me tell you a real story. We’ll call her Natasha. She’s 32. Studied at Durham, got a job at Deutsche Bank, smart, successful, and has been living in the UK for 14 years now. Every time we met and spoke about medical insurance, she’d wave it off: “Why would I even need that? If anything happens, I’ll just fly home to Russia. Everything there is easy and dirt cheap. Plus, I’ll get to see my family.”
Fair enough, I thought. Some people learn from mistakes that others do. Some need to make their own. Sometimes both.
Winter comes and Natasha seriously messed up her knee. Luckily, Deutsche Bank provides a good domestic policy, so she went to see a private doctors and it turned out she needed surgery. So, what does she do? Correct - she books time off work and flies to Moscow. (Sick pay was apparently declined since she had chosen to get treatment abroad.)
Let’s run the numbers on so-called “saving”:
• Uber from Canary Wharf to Heathrow – £50
• Flight to Moscow – £490
• Gifts to family and increased luggage – £370 (she is girl after all J )
• Lounge access at the airport – £35
• Taxi in Moscow – £20
• Private consultation & MRI – £250
• Surgery + hospital stay – £3,900 (really good price to be honest, no complaints here)
• Medication, bandages, aftercare – £400
• Stayed another 2 weeks to recover – not sure how much she spent, but the real cost? Burning 3 out of her 4 weeks of annual leave.
And here’s where it gets “fun”. The surgery didn’t go well. Can’t remember exactly — might have been an infection or something just didn’t heal properly — but she couldn’t extend her stay in Moscow because of work so she had to fly back and redo the operation in London. Did a surgery using her corporate health cover? Forget it. There was endless requests for “extra information to make a decision” and documentation from Russia, all of which had to be translated into English. Eventually, she gave up and paid for it privately. That redo costed her over £7k — and that’s without rehabilitation.
So, what’s the final damage?
1. ~£12,000 out of pocket
2. Three weeks of holiday gone (she was planning a decent break in the Dominican Republic this time round)
3. Formal disciplinary at work with no idea how to progress further of her career path. Let’s be honest, when you’re in constant pain and sleepless nights one after the other, you would scream and shout at everyone, from your best college to the line manager , which tends to leave a huge mark on you.
And here’s the real kicker:
The biggest lie people keep telling themselves is “It’s cheaper back home.” Well, it’s not! I mean, it’s definitely not once you account for the money, stress, time, and missed opportunities.
Sure, it might be cheaper, BUT ONLY IF:
1. Every single treatment goes perfectly well (and your body responds like a textbook to it)
2. You’ve got loads of free time to fly back and forth and can stay for as long as you need and want.
3. You’re absurdly lucky — like, lottery-ticket-every-week lucky.
But most of my clients? They’ve got businesses, careers, families and calendars full of bookings. Their time is expensive! And they’re not 22 anymore — when things break, they break badly.
After that whole mess, Natasha finally took out a policy. But now there’s a catch — because the policy was set up after the injury, her knee is excluded for the next two years at least. If she’d sorted it earlier, there’d be no exclusions.
And here’s the most intriguing part of it all. Her full international policy costs £198.43 a month (so in other words about the cost of a dinner in an average restaurant in central London).
But here’s the important bit — her international policy covers treatment in Russia too. And pretty much anywhere else in the world, if needed.
So even if she prefers to continue doing treatments back in Moscow with an occasional visits here - the financial difference between having a proper international policy vs. paying out-of-pocket in the UK is so marginal that it’s not even worth cosndiering. I mean, a decent orthopaedic consultation in London across all clinics will set you down by £300. MRI? Easy £1,000+. Surgery? Say hello to a five-figure invoices.
If you’re still thinking, “Well, if something happens, I’ll just go home” — you’re not saving money. You’re playing Russian roulette. And for some reason, in this version of it - the revolver’s loaded with more than one bullet.
An international policy is about flexibility. Go to Moscow, stay in London — do whatever suits. The point is, you’ve got options. No panic. No faff. And only peace of mind that whatever happens, you’re covered.
That’s all I wanted to say today.
Let me tell you a real story. We’ll call her Natasha. She’s 32. Studied at Durham, got a job at Deutsche Bank, smart, successful, and has been living in the UK for 14 years now. Every time we met and spoke about medical insurance, she’d wave it off: “Why would I even need that? If anything happens, I’ll just fly home to Russia. Everything there is easy and dirt cheap. Plus, I’ll get to see my family.”
Fair enough, I thought. Some people learn from mistakes that others do. Some need to make their own. Sometimes both.
Winter comes and Natasha seriously messed up her knee. Luckily, Deutsche Bank provides a good domestic policy, so she went to see a private doctors and it turned out she needed surgery. So, what does she do? Correct - she books time off work and flies to Moscow. (Sick pay was apparently declined since she had chosen to get treatment abroad.)
Let’s run the numbers on so-called “saving”:
• Uber from Canary Wharf to Heathrow – £50
• Flight to Moscow – £490
• Gifts to family and increased luggage – £370 (she is girl after all J )
• Lounge access at the airport – £35
• Taxi in Moscow – £20
• Private consultation & MRI – £250
• Surgery + hospital stay – £3,900 (really good price to be honest, no complaints here)
• Medication, bandages, aftercare – £400
• Stayed another 2 weeks to recover – not sure how much she spent, but the real cost? Burning 3 out of her 4 weeks of annual leave.
And here’s where it gets “fun”. The surgery didn’t go well. Can’t remember exactly — might have been an infection or something just didn’t heal properly — but she couldn’t extend her stay in Moscow because of work so she had to fly back and redo the operation in London. Did a surgery using her corporate health cover? Forget it. There was endless requests for “extra information to make a decision” and documentation from Russia, all of which had to be translated into English. Eventually, she gave up and paid for it privately. That redo costed her over £7k — and that’s without rehabilitation.
So, what’s the final damage?
1. ~£12,000 out of pocket
2. Three weeks of holiday gone (she was planning a decent break in the Dominican Republic this time round)
3. Formal disciplinary at work with no idea how to progress further of her career path. Let’s be honest, when you’re in constant pain and sleepless nights one after the other, you would scream and shout at everyone, from your best college to the line manager , which tends to leave a huge mark on you.
And here’s the real kicker:
The biggest lie people keep telling themselves is “It’s cheaper back home.” Well, it’s not! I mean, it’s definitely not once you account for the money, stress, time, and missed opportunities.
Sure, it might be cheaper, BUT ONLY IF:
1. Every single treatment goes perfectly well (and your body responds like a textbook to it)
2. You’ve got loads of free time to fly back and forth and can stay for as long as you need and want.
3. You’re absurdly lucky — like, lottery-ticket-every-week lucky.
But most of my clients? They’ve got businesses, careers, families and calendars full of bookings. Their time is expensive! And they’re not 22 anymore — when things break, they break badly.
After that whole mess, Natasha finally took out a policy. But now there’s a catch — because the policy was set up after the injury, her knee is excluded for the next two years at least. If she’d sorted it earlier, there’d be no exclusions.
And here’s the most intriguing part of it all. Her full international policy costs £198.43 a month (so in other words about the cost of a dinner in an average restaurant in central London).
But here’s the important bit — her international policy covers treatment in Russia too. And pretty much anywhere else in the world, if needed.
So even if she prefers to continue doing treatments back in Moscow with an occasional visits here - the financial difference between having a proper international policy vs. paying out-of-pocket in the UK is so marginal that it’s not even worth cosndiering. I mean, a decent orthopaedic consultation in London across all clinics will set you down by £300. MRI? Easy £1,000+. Surgery? Say hello to a five-figure invoices.
If you’re still thinking, “Well, if something happens, I’ll just go home” — you’re not saving money. You’re playing Russian roulette. And for some reason, in this version of it - the revolver’s loaded with more than one bullet.
An international policy is about flexibility. Go to Moscow, stay in London — do whatever suits. The point is, you’ve got options. No panic. No faff. And only peace of mind that whatever happens, you’re covered.
That’s all I wanted to say today.