Dealing with healthcare anywhere in the world can be challenging—especially with a chronic illness or a complex condition. Every system in every country has its pros and cons, as does Israel.
But when you add the language barrier, the cultural adjustment of moving to a new country, and the inevitable confusion of navigating a system you don’t yet understand, the situation becomes even more complex. Every oleh (new immigrant) can tell you about their experiences navigating Israel’s healthcare system— stories that are often frustrating and relatable, sometimes amusing, and at times even inspiring.
I’ve been fortunate not to face many medical issues since moving here. Still, a few encounters stand out. One in particular is hard to forget.
I once went to see a Russian specialist doctor (who shall remain unnamed) who yelled at me and refused to see me because I didn’t have 30 shekels in cash. He wouldn’t take a card, nor would he agree to let me pay afterwards. Already frazzled because I'd arrived late to the appointment—after waiting months for it— now, I had to run around like a headless chicken looking for an ATM.
When I finally found one, I realized I couldn’t remember my PIN since I normally just tap my card to pay, using the contactless feature. Panicked, I ran into several shops asking cashiers if there was some kind of cashback option (a common feature in South Africa, where I lived for several years), but of course, in Israel, that doesn’t exist. Eventually, a kind stranger showed me how to retrieve my PIN online, and I managed to withdraw cash—though the smallest option available was 100 shekels.
By the time I ran back to the doctor's office, I had missed my appointment and had to wait for him to finish with another patient. When I finally sat down and handed him the 100-shekel bill, he looked at me with utter disdain and said: “Why are you giving me 100 shekels? Do you think I’m a cashpoint? I will only accept 30.” At that point, I broke down in tears. Thankfully, the secretary noticed and gave me change. Only then was I finally able to see the doctor—for a brief 10-minute appointment in which he told me that everything was fine with me after all of that.
Another frustrating encounter involved trying to figure out the riddle that is Hitchayvut (a payment authorization). Any oleh who’s been here long enough knows the struggle of dealing with Maccabi (or another kupah) if you don’t understand the system. In my case, I battled for nearly a year to get back money that I was owed after doing a specialized test at Hadassah Ein Kerem.
Supposedly, everything can be handled through the Maccabi app, but for a new immigrant whose Hebrew isn’t perfect yet, the app is not as simple as it looks. After several failed attempts and countless phone calls, I was told to go in person to a Maccabi office. When I arrived, it happened to be closed on that day. On my second attempt, I was told instead to go to Hadassah Ein Kerem with my forms. Of course, when I arrived there, I was told that my whole case could have been handled by email!
By the time I finally received a response, I was informed that I wasn’t eligible for reimbursement because too much time had passed. Ironically, it had only taken so long because I was trying to figure out the system. If I’d just understood it from the outset, it would have been a lot easier. At least now I know how to apply for Hitchayvut before the appointment!
I know that I am not alone, though, in my frustration. Here are some stories from fellow olim:
Dalia, a young olah from South Africa, recalled how when she first made aliyah, Maccabi somehow registered her as male instead of female. Naturally, this led to an awkward encounter in which she had to explain—in very broken Hebrew—to a very confused receptionist that she wasn’t a man and requested that she correct the mistake.
A singular spot
Jaime, another South African oleh recounted his experience when he noticed a small suspicious-looking dot on his toe. “It started with a dot. A tiny spot on my toe. I saw it, shrugged, and thought, Eh. Probably nothing. That was my first mistake.”
Several weeks later, his mother visited from South Africa, and noticing the spot, suddenly freaked out.
Within hours, the news had spread through his family WhatsApp groups. By that evening, his aunt in Netanya knew, his cousin in Sydney knew, and his extended family was sending him links about melanoma. Some were even lighting candles, said Jaime. All over a spot - on his toe.
Frantic, Jaime made an emergency appointment with his family doctor, who took one look at his toe and gravely said: “Yes. You have a spot. You need to see a dermatologist.” The doctor’s serious tone and expression were enough to make Jaime freak out and imagine the worst.
“I left his office convinced I’d be remembered as that kid who died from a freckle,” he later told me.
So the next day, Jaime was on the first train to Haifa - the only place where he was told that he’d be able to get an appointment on such short notice - and in his mind (and his family’s) there was no time to waste. Jaime described how the train ride felt like an eternity - seeing every bump or lurch as another countdown to his funeral.
After a nerve-wracking train ride and hours in a waiting room, with the panic slowly rising, Jaime's name was finally called. The dermatologist takes one look, leans in dramatically, and announces his diagnosis: “A benign mole.”
That was it. A mole. Jaime could finally breathe again. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Immediately he called his mother, who of course reported back to the entire family. Most family members sighed with relief, but a few sounded disappointed, said Jaime. After all - it would have been a good story to discuss over shabbat lunch.
But here’s the best part of the story: three days later, Jaime checked his toe again. The spot was gone. Completely. Not a mole. Not cancer. Just… dirt. As it turns out, Jaime had scared himself, his mother, and his entire extended family — all because of some dirt under his skin.
The pros and cons
Chaya, from Australia, offered a more balanced perspective. Living in Har Nof with her husband and daughter, she has seen both the strengths and weaknesses of Israel’s healthcare system. On the plus side, she doesn’t have to pay to see specialists. On the downside, the wait times can stretch for months, by which point appointments may no longer be relevant.
She also pointed out the cultural differences:
“In Australia, the doctor takes the time to ask you questions and do a thorough examination. Here, the doctors don’t always have enough time for you. Once, when I was pregnant, a gynecologist just looked me up and down for five minutes, didn’t even touch my stomach, and declared that everything was fine.”
“You become a number,” she said. “You become part of the system. You don’t get that individualized attention that I would’ve gotten in Australia or another country. But then again, there you’d have to pay for it—so it’s a bit of a catch-22.”
In Israel, she added, you also have to be far more proactive. Nobody chases after you; you’re responsible for following up. Test results, for instance, are sent to your phone—but they’re not explained. Unless you make an appointment, you’re left to interpret them yourself.
Language, of course, adds another layer of difficulty. Many doctors speak English, but not always fluently. Often, Chaya relies on her husband to accompany her to appointments in order to translate. She recalled one incident during a 20-week pregnancy scan when, as usual, her husband translated everything that the doctor was saying. Toward the end of the appointment, Chaya asked her husband a question, at which point the doctor turned to her and replied in perfect English. “It’s a wonder why he hadn’t just spoken to me in English from the outset!” said Chaya.
While Israel’s healthcare system isn’t perfect, it offers many perks and benefits that can be hard to find elsewhere. Combined with the other advantages of living in Israel, for many olim, the pros outweigh the cons. Continue reading my other articles to discover more about life and healthcare in Israel!