The doctors office door 

With the USA presidential campaigns in high gear the healthcare issue is at the forefront of political debate once again. The healthcare system in the USA is expensive and complicated. I had an encounter with the Mexican system this week and I will share the experience with you.

My eyes have been bothering me for the last year or two. At the end of the day they hurt. I blink a lot and can’t stay up late watching the television. The problem has got much worse over the last two months. I’ve been riding south into the  sun and its has took a toll on my eyes. They are completely bloodshot, I look like a dope addict. (lil’ sidenote, speaking of drug  addicts, I saw a GOOD movie this week called “Things We Lost in the Fire”  Benecio del Toro is a superb actor, and Halle Berry, well she is ***Halle Berry***, ‘xcuse the interruption, but I just had to tell someone about it) Back on point-

 I can’t sleep at night, it feels like I have sand in my eyes.  I decided it was time to see the doctor. There are three options for medical care that I know of: go to a public health clinic, go to the Red Cross, or see a private doctor. To visit a private doctor is the most costly, but still should be cheap. I asked the folks that run the Posada where I am staying where they thought I should go. They recommended an eye doctor that was close and they called and made an appointment for me. I set off  for the doctor early in case I had trouble finding him. I found the intersection where the office should be without  problem, but there was nothing there. I asked a guy who was walking by if he knew where the eye doctor was. He pointed at a red door in the stone wall running along the road. The door had no markings or signs. I pulled the cord that was hanging on the right side and it rang a bell. A couple of minutes passed and a little window in the door opened and a child asked what I wanted. I replied I had an appointment with the eye doctor. She smiled and said, “you want the señorita” and closed the window. Hmmm…. So the doctor is a señorita, I begin to wonder what she looks like. Five minutes go by and the niña doesn’t return, but an old guy shows up with a key to the door and he lets me in. Behind the wall, on a very large lot, is what looks to be a stone house with a tile roof  but it is too big to be a house. He points to the sliding glass door where I should enter. I enter and have a seat in a chair and take in the surroundings. It is dead quiet. The stone wall isolates the street noise and there is no noise coming from within, not even the hum of a refrigerator. The floor is polished brick, the walls are cedar tongue and groove with a painted ceramic tile cove base. There is no ceiling, leaving the underside of the roof exposed. Large rough hewn beams support the roof. There is an open courtyard in the center of the building.

 The doctor is late, but that’s OK, I need some time to think about how I am going to answer the questions she will have for me. I get my electronic dictionary out and figure out how to describe the problem. I hear the doctor entering the building, then she appears in the hallway. She starts with the questions as soon as she sees me. She speaks fast. This is going to be difficult. I take my glasses off and show her my eyes. I see sympathy and understanding in her eyes. We go to an exam room and she give me the E chart exam (you know, the one where you point which way the E is facing), I score perfect with my glasses on. Then we go to a different exam room, where she turns out all the lights and peers in my eyes with a tiny light. Then we go to a third exam room where she looks in my eyes with a microscope of sorts. Then we go to her office. On her desk is a mechanical typewriter, not a computer, not a electric typewriter, but a mechanical typewriter, I haven’t seen one of them in a while. She draws a diagram of my eye with a pencil and puts a lot of dots in the white area and explains that I have lesions on my eyes. She says a lot of things but most of it is going over my head. We get to the treatment phase and I need to understand this perfectly. She realizes this and slows down a bit. She writes the name of the two drugs I need on a pad and goes over how to administer them, it’s kind of complicated, so she goes over it a few times and then has me repeat it back to her to show that I comprehend the instructions. And that’s it. Total cost 200 pesos ($18USD). She compliments me on how well I speak Spanish (ha ha) and sends me on my way. The drugs cost me 90 pesos at the pharmacy; I’ve been on them for three days and I definitely feel better, I am sleeping better than I have in a long time.

So, how does that compare with the healthcare system that you are dealing with?

I’m thinkin’ maybe I ought to visit the dentist while I’m here….