We’d barely finished the last of the Christmas leftovers when we packed our bags, bundled up our tiny Toby, and headed to Lanzarote for some much‑needed winter sun. In true festive fashion, Toby was passed lovingly and repeatedly around the entire family in the days leading up to our departure. So it was hardly surprising that, shortly after arriving on the island, he developed the predictable post‑Christmas cold.
As a GP, I’m very used to wheezy chests, snotty noses, and anxious parents. And despite that little internal voice reassuring me that Toby was absolutely fine, the new‑mum part of my brain insisted we get him checked. Because as it turns out, treating babies in clinic and caring for your own 24/7 are wildly different experiences.
We found a medical clinic perched above a shopping centre clearly designed for tourists. After a brief wait, the receptionist summoned a doctor who, we were told, would be “right with us.”
A few moments later, he appeared.
He performed a perfectly reasonable examination. He listened to Toby’s chest (still delightfully wheezy), checked his blood oxygen levels (beautifully normal), and confirmed what I had suspected all along: he had a cold, nothing more sinister. Then came the unnecessary antibiotics because apparently prescribing them is a universal language and a bill that made our eyes water more than Toby’s runny nose. A neat little €520, roughly £450, for the privilege.
Slightly dazed, we decided to submit a claim to our travel insurance, assuming it would involve weeks of paperwork, endless back‑and‑forth emails, and possibly a small sacrifice to the admin gods. But to our astonishment, they refunded us almost instantly. No questions. No requests for invoices. Not even a polite follow‑up. The money simply appeared back in our account as if by magic. It was the most seamless part of the entire experience.
Before travelling, other seasoned parents had warned us to bring Calpol from the UK (a tip I’ll forever be grateful for). So, armed with the delicious strawberry liquid, we kept Toby comfortable while his cold ran its course. He yummed it up happily understandably thrilled to finally taste something that wasn’t milk. Honestly, I don’t blame him.
Thankfully, after a couple of days of cuddles, Calpol, and lots of fresh air, Toby began to perk up. Within a week, he was fully back to his normal self. I’m convinced the warm breeze and sunshine did more for him than the entire tourist clinic ever could. This little detour reminded us that travelling with a baby comes with its unpredictable moments but also that with preparation, a sense of humour, and a good dose of Calpol, you can handle just about anything.
EuroKlinick - THANKYOU