On Mexico, doctors, and coughs

The Mexican government takes good care of its employees. After jumping through countless hoops to get their work papers (FM3), expatriates living in Mexico are treated to all of the privileges of a native government employee. This mainly includes government health care. Sick employees can obtain paid sick days only by going to a government doctor, waiting all day in a public clinic, and getting assigned to a doctor who may or may not be qualified. Those employees who are too pretentious to go the government route (or those who actually want health care) can sacrifice a day of employment and see a private doctor.

I, however, have not finished jumping through the hoops to get my FM3 and am entirely uninsured. This bothered me slightly when I felt myself getting sick nine days ago, but I figured my cure-all treatment of airborne and sleep would suffice. In this land of swine flu paranoia, though, I should have known better.

Yesterday was an in-service day without students. An hour before dismissal, I found myself in an auditorium with the entire preschool and primary staff, listening to a lecture on the swine flu. While the doctor droned on about statistics and how any student with a cough or runny nose should be sent home, I attracted scowls and glares by my hacking cough. After dismissal, I heard my name called over the intercom. Administration had made arrangements to pay for me to see a private doctor. Was I available at 6 p.m.?

"Yes, thank you," I smiled. "Yes, I'm available. No, I don't have to go grocery shopping or study for the GRE or rest. I'd love to go see a doctor for a cough."

I opted against a taxi after realizing that my designated doctor was only a mile or so from my house. Any deep breathing, though, made me cough and made my lungs hurt. I walked along in the wind, coughing and grumbling to myself about stupid doctors the entire way.

I hate doctors. They take what is nothing and give you drugs for it and charge you money. This doctor pronounced bronchitis, probably brought on by bacteria from an untreated influenza last week. I'd kind of guessed that already, and I'd managed to live so far. I assured the doctor that I didn't have a fever, but on the walk back I decided to buy a thermometer to check, since, as my roommate says, "You've got a high heat tolerance." I guess she's right; my temperature was near 103.

I let the school have their way with the doctor and the drugs, but I wasn't going to sacrifice one of my personal days. Plus, I figured, if an entire weekend of sleep hadn't healed me, would one more day really help? I gagged down the three prescribed drugs, donned the required face mask (which I mostly wore around my neck), and braved the evil stares of coworkers when they saw that I hadn't taken a day off. I'm glad I went. Some days of teaching are just better than others, and this was one of those. Plus, I stopped for sushi on the way home.