I had this thing on my back for some time. At least since September of last year.
I didn’t go to the doctor to get it checked out because despite the fact that we were shelling out around $400/month in insurance, I had copays that ended up in the region of $100 – and I’m not even talking about medication here. I’m talking about just seeing a doctor.
We couldn’t afford that. If I didn’t feel like my mortal life was in real danger, I simply hoped that whatever it was would go away. I think a lot of Americans are doing that these days.
Anyway, I secretly wondered if I was popping out something cancerous – that thing was weird! – but it didn’t hurt. It wasn’t until we were all the way in Mexico, at Tecolote that it started to be painful. And then it wouldn’t quit.
It just hurt more and more and it seemed to be festering or something. It got to where it was keeping me up at night and making me pretty miserable, so we went into town to the hospital to see a doctor.
In we trouped, right up to the information desk, where they told us that almost all of the doctors were on vacation so it might be smarter for us just to go to a pharmacy. Ha! O-kaaaaaaaaaay. So that’s what we did, spun right around, hopped back in Myrtle and went to the pharmacy.
The Mexican Pharmacy
You know what I love about these places? I love that they seem like they are having one big, non stop party going on, all-the-time. They have dancing doctors in costume, balloons, blasting club music, it’s like,
WHOAH! Let’s hear it for some DISEASE, baby! Jive those sores away!
I love Mexico. I love Mexican Pharmacies.
The pharmacy directed us to the doctor consult right next door – went in, sat down and waited. I got in a “conversation” with the old ladies next to me about hearing aids (- they were wearing them!) that was all about them being polite and me digging around in the dictionary.
Everyone in the waiting area was super nice and laid back about the kids and I was grateful. It’s so much nicer to deal with deeper thoughts on cancer when people are being so nice to you.
Then it was my turn and the doctor almost laughed at my thing and slapped me with a prescription for an antiobiotic, told me it’d be gone in a week and heartily chuckling, shook my hand and waved us out.
The visit plus the medication? Total? $9. I repeat: NINE DOLLARS.
NINE DOLLARS OF THE UNITED STATES VARIETY
I just have to say that in caps because I think it’s total bullshit that if I had gone to see a doctor in the Bay Area, I’d have shelled out about double that amount for just the medication. The medical situation in the US is so wrong, so, so, so wrong, but church preaching to the choir here, I know, I’ll move on.
The good doctor was like a soothsayer. I did what he told me to and voila. As clear as clear can be.
Take that, oh bloated US medical system with it’s overpriced insurance and take that, cancer!
Viva la farmacia!