Good Cheap Medical Care

When I couldn’t stand the pain in my infected finger anymore, I decided to see a doctor. It was Sunday afternoon, and I knew I couldn’t make an appointment. I would have to go to the emergency room. But where? We had no idea which hospital or doctors had the best reputation.

Fortunately, our landlord Francisco was always available to answer questions via texts. Vince sent him a text and he responded promptly. He said the closest hospitals were the Red Cross (cheaper but lesser quality care) and the Henri Dunant (private and higher quality). We grabbed the first taxi that passed by and arrived at the Henri Dunant hospital in fifteen minutes.

Before entering the building, our temperatures were taken and hand sanitizer was applied. We had experienced this same routine before entering every building in Cuernavaca. We were also required to walk across a damp mat that supposedly cleaned and sanitized our shoes.

When we approached the front desk, the first question was whether we were using seguro (health insurance) or particular (cash or credit) to cover the costs. Vince assured them that we had the cash to pay for my care (although we had no idea how much it would be). So they completed my registration and directed us to the waiting room.

We waited for a while until a nurse beckoned us into a side room where she took some vital signs. My blood pressure was slightly elevated but that was typical for me. Usually I am able to control my hypertension with daily medications. But my blood pressure is often high when a nurse or doctor takes it. The “white coat syndrome” was particularly active in this unfamiliar Mexican hospital where all questions and instructions were in my second language. I was nervous!

A young intern appeared , looked at my ugly infected finger, asked a few questions then left to talk with the doctor on duty. Several minutes later, my name was called, and we were directed to the doctor’s office. He inspected my finger closely, asked a variety of questions, and told us that he would have to call a specialist to take care of my finger. He wasn’t sure what had caused the infection (maybe a spider bite--yuck!) but the specialist, Doctora Cárdenas, would know how to treat it. He called her on the spot and asked her to come in and examine my finger. He told us that she would be arriving in 20 minutes or so.

Over an hour later, the doctora finally arrived. She apologized profusely and explained that she had been at home with her toddler when she received the call. She was late because she needed time to settle her child and change her clothes. From the looks of her, she did more than change her clothes. Obviously, she had washed and styled her hair, meticulously applied her make-up, changed into a very attractive outfit, and chose matching heels and earrings to boot!

The doctora immediately sprang into action. She looked at my finger and started barking orders to the staff, asking them to move me to a surgery room and bring instruments, antiseptic spray, an antibiotic cream, gauze, bandages, a numbing solution, and syringes. She told us that a spider had not caused the infection (phew!) rather bacteria had entered the fingertip through a small cut on the edge of my fingernail.

An abscess had formed and now she would have to drain it, bandage the wound, and prescribe some antibiotics and a painkiller. She described what she was planning to do and how important it was to keep the wound as sterile as possible so no additional bacteria could enter. Interestingly, she looked intently only at Vince while she explained the details of the procedure. She spoke rapidly and practically nonstop for several minutes. Vince and I understood most of her Spanish except for one short, extremely rapid sentence when we looked at each other with a confused look and thought “Huh?”

Dr. Cárdenas went right to work on my finger. She injected the numbing solution into various spots in and around my finger then slowly cut and drained the abscess. As she worked, she continued to explain what she was doing. The attending nurses and a few doctors gathered around to listen and observe the procedure. It was clear that the doctora was admired and respected for her expertise.

When she finished, the doctora wrote the prescriptions and explained to Vince how he should clean and bandage my finger three times a day. She also gave him her personal cell phone number and asked him to regularly send her updated photos and contact her directly if we had any questions at all. She assured us that she would respond as quickly as possible. We were surprised that she would give us her cell phone number but promised to send her the photos.

We were even more surprised when we went to pay for the care I had received. The whole bill which included paying for surgery by the specialist with a couple of nurses attending, examinations by the other doctor and intern, and surgical materials as well as extra materials to take home all came to a little less than $200!

$200 was nothing compared to the cost of medical care in the U.S. Now we understood why many people in the U.S. go to Mexico for dental work or elective surgery. You can’t beat Mexico for good, cheap medical care.