Come to think of it I almost died of a miscarriage. I was 27 and in the UK in the Lake District over 3 months pregnant and began to bleed. The bleeding would not stop (I didn't realize I had a medical problem then) and I was taken into the hospital as part of National Health. I never paid a dime. Two days of great pain and bleeding and they told me the fetus was no longer viable. A miscarriage is in medical terminology a spontaneous abortion; well Nature had not done it completely, to stop the bleeding I had to have a man-made abortion, then a D&C, and then I was in hospital for 3 days afterward -- recuperating with them watching me lest the bleeding start again. I had nightmares about blood for a few months.
I remember having to sign I had no religion -- in the box I was supposed to be CofE or something else. The nurse said that "wasn't done" ("N/A" is what I first put) and they sent a vicar to me. Silly. I told him I realized he meant well but go away. And he did. I also remember how the norms of the English hospitals meant I was not supposed to cry but be chin up and cheerful -- especially as I was on a woman's ward. I was not cheerful. So a Sister (the nurses were called Sister) came over and gave me permission to go ahead. And then no doors on the bathrooms. What did they think I was doing?
But they saved my life and charged me nothing. I came out okay. As for the pregnancy, mixed feelings but over-all relief. I was still young, had only been teaching a couple of years or so, unexpectedly the Admiral had quit his job and began a Ph.D. in math. I am no Pangloss so did not say " Tout est pour le mieux dans le meilleur des mondes," just carried on. I had lost weight and not seen the Lake district except through a window.
Maybe now I'll go back.
In Ireland would I have died?