In La Paz, Mexico, on average it rains about one and a half days in February. Usually it doesn't rain at all in in March, April, May, June, or July, and even the “rainy season” in September tends to max out at a whopping 1.4″ inches of rain for the entire month. However, thanks to the freak weather we're having — rain, rain rain — I'm starting to feel a little like Rob McKenna*, with 231 types of rain written down in my little book. Jon hopes it will rain a little more so he can go fishing in the street.
That said, I've been meaning to write about the medical system here in Mexico. As you probably know, the US is one of the few modern countries in the world that doesn't have medical care as a basic right, and as a result, half of all bankruptcies are caused by medical treatment bills — to say nothing of the millions who suffer and die needlessly because they can't afford treatment.
We've been to the hospital here once because our daughter got very sick. We got attention almost immediately, the doctors and nurses were very friendly and helpful, and the whole thing, including the emergency room fees, the doctor's fees, and the medication cost I think $33 — in Canada it would have run closer to three hundred dollars, and probably in the six hundred dollar range in the states.
One of the many people we met here moved from the US in 1998. She runs a Spanish school down here these days, but when she lived in the States she was a hospital administrator. Not long after arriving here she got a serious liver infection, and, after putting it off for too long had to be rushed to the hospital. She ended up having to stay in the hospital for half a week and was seen dozens of times by her own doctor and others before they released her.
As a hospital administrator, the whole time she was there, she kept adding up the things that were happening to estimate what this was going to set her back. She'd guessed in the realm of four or five thousand dollars, so when they handed her a bill for two thousand dollars she was quite pleased.
“Two thousand dollars — that's a lot less than this would have cost me back home.”“No, no, senora, you misunderstand — that is in pesos; about two hundred dollars.”
Emphasizing that there must be horror stories as well as these good ones I'm telling now, another person we met had broken their leg after a night of drinking and ended up in a private clinic here. She stayed for about a week. She got constant personal attention from the doctors, had food brought from local restaurants, and got care that one can only dream of in Canada — and only multi-millionaires can afford in America… all for a total cost of $250.
It's definitely a fixer-upper, but it's in a nice part of downtown La Paz, two blocks from the beach (kind of like the Mexican equivalent of where I lived at my daughter's age I suppose). It's a big walled lot thick with fruit-producing orange and banana trees, with big yards, lots of room, and a nice big airy house with 18' ceilings. It'll give me space to work, paint, build things, and occasionally relax I hope.
* Sorry about the obscure So Long, and Thanks for All the Fish reference.
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