What is the difference between Greenland and Denmark? “Everything”

I was flicking through Air Greenland’s in-flight magazine – Suluk – when I saw an interview with Greenlandic singer Julie Berthelsen, who lives in Denmark. She was asked, “What is the biggest difference between Greenland and Denmark?”

Her answer was,“Everything.”

The word stuck in my brain as I disembarked and negotiated my way through Copenhagen airport. Everything. Waiting by the baggage carousel, I spotted a Greenlandic man holding up this sign – the logo of Greenland’s health service. He was waiting for patients arriving to be treated in Denmark. Suddenly, I was reminded of one small but striking example of everything being the difference between Greenland and Denmark.

A couple of years ago, I went to Copenhagen for an ankle operation at Denmark’s largest hospital, Rigshospitalet. Although Nuuk has a good, reasonably well equipped hospital, with ever increasing numbers of qualified Greenlandic medical staff, Greenland still relies on an agreement with Denmark to handle many medical services. I would be in Copenhagen for a week, first for scans and tests, then for the operation and recovery in a ward, before being released and flown home on the next available flight. I wanted to see what this experience was like for Greenlanders. So, I opted to be accommodated at the Greenland Patients’ Home – dedicated accommodation for patients from Greenland before and after their hospital admissions.

I arrived on a Friday afternoon. The building was a functional, reasonably modern but not particularly interesting building in a largely suburban part of inner city Copenhagen, quite close to the hospital. I was met at reception by a smiling Greenlandic woman who seemed pleased to see me and greeted me by name. I was shown to a simple, comfortable room, with a hospital bed, a phone, and a call button. Shortly after I had settled in, a nurse came by to ask me how I was and to run through my schedule for the hospital admission in a couple of days. After that, she came by to check on me again every day. In the hall, I could hear people chatting in open-doored rooms. In one, a woman sat playing with her young child. In another, a couple of elderly friends talked quietly. In the communal living area, someone played the piano, old women sat knitting. A cluster of small children wandered by. Everyone smiled and said hello. During meals, the dining room bustled with activity and voices, even if some of the guests were limping or shuffling around. Attendants served the hungry patients, ladelling out dark red slabs of seal meat with potatos to those who could walk, or delivering steaming bowls to the elderly and frail who were already seated. One of the attendants, recognising mine as a new face, showed me around, where to find the cups, where to get coffee and juice. I was reminded of my stay in hospital back in Nuuk.

After my operation and the subsequent days recovering in the ward, there was no vacancy at Greenland Patients’ Home, so I was released to the hospital’s own patient hotel until I could get a flight home a couple of days later. I was delivered in a wheelchair by a hospital wardsman. The patient hotel was a large grey, very modern building with lots of glass and light. In the high-ceilinged, empty foyer, I was greeted by a lone receptionist. She did not smile. I was directed to a comfortable and functional single room with a hospital bed, a phone, and a call button. There was noone in the halls. There was no sound from the other rooms. All the doors were closed. I settled into my room and no nurse came to see me. At dinner time, I went to the cafeteria, where food was laid out for the patients to help themselves. Occassionally an attendant wandered in and out but I had no interaction with them. Patients sat alone, each at their own small table. We did not talk to each other. And then I returned along the quiet corridors to lie in my silent room, my throbbing leg raised in the comfortable hospital bed.