Part 2 - In which medical attention is acquired.

So here I am, 5:20pm, it is getting dark, and I am wandering through the streets of Playa del Carmen, with only a vague idea of my whereabouts and destination.

And a very wide open head wound, with blood trickling down my temple and neck.

Needless to say I got some funny looks.

About 30 minutes and maybe 2 miles or so of wandering later, I arrive at the Red Cross, and after some confusion with the door (I couldn’t figure out how the hell to get in), I approach the counter where an EMT is sitting admitting people.  There’s a bit of a crowd in the waiting room, and I’m worrying that it may take awhile, but as I wait in line, the room empties quickly, with people and families being called back, and my stress eases a bit.

Eventually I get to the counter.  The conversation goes like this:

EMT: Buenas tardes.

Me: Buenas tardes, pienso que necessito puntos en mi cabeza (I show him my head)

The EMT guy takes one look at me, gets up, walks away, calls for the doctor.

In walks the doctor.  Very nice lady.  Conversation/action went like this:

Dr: Buenas tardes. Que es su problema?

Me. Buenas tardes, Yo corto me cabeza en un piedra, y pienso que necesito puntos

(I again show my head, to which the doctor gives a sort of ‘Yikes’ face to.)

Dr.: Cuando paso?

Me: Um….mediodia.

Dr. (shocked): Cuando?!?

Me (thinking I may have said something unintelligible due to my blood loss): Uh, doce?…hace 5 o 6 horas….Noon?

Dr.: No…Entiendo, pero…Dios mio….OK,..sigueme.

And so I was lead back into the clinic where the doctor and 2 nurses proceeded to put 4 stitches into my scalp and get a quick medical history, all in Spanish.  Much fun was had with the fact they got to cut my hair to access the wound.  Less fun was had when the nurses had to brace themselves to hold my skull steady as la doctora was yanking my scalp back together with medical twine.

The wound upon return from the Cruz Roja

In the end, all told, I had the following expenses:

The stitches, obscured by my hair.

$ 215 pesos for the procedure and clinic fees

$ 295 pesos for the antibiotics that I had/have to take because I spent the better part of the day walking around with an open wound protected only by Captain Ron’s gross shirt. 

This is the equivalent of  $36.39, and none of that involved any kind of insurance.

While I have many thoughts about this and the implications for the medical system in the US, I will share only the following two:

1.     With ‘good’ insurance in our privatized system, when I got stitches earlier this year in a less critical area (knee) and for a smaller wound, I've paid at least $500, just received and paid off the last bill, and very frankly lost track of all the bills that were sent and paid, so it was likely more.

2.     I waited less than 5 minutes for care in what was the equivalent to an ER/Urgent Care place.  Once, in Vegas, Alice and I waited to see a doctor for over 10 hours, all told, when she had a pulmonary embellism, and during which time I watched a man sit down to wait with 3^rd degree burns such that I could see the tendons in his arms move like piano wire.

So in the end, my head was still pounding, and I had to miss a few days of running (2), but I was mostly faced with the following ironic fact:  I had chosen to forego a trip to Mexico because I had stitches, only to end up getting stitches while in Mexico.  So there’s that.

An homage for Arrested Development fans.  That was the dressing the nurses put on me.

And the moral of the story is, if a stoned out beach bum tells you that you are fine and your injury isn’t a big one, never, for any reason, under any circumstances, ever, for any reason, should you believe him, or allow anyone else to.