That's My Story

BAD MEDICINE

I came up to the states for a couple of weeks to start getting ready for the 2006 trade shows and, after a long season in Baja, it’s also a good time to get those usual things outta the way that I put off…Cheap eye exams at Costco because it’s getting harder to tie hooks…Chiropractor for that shoulder kink from trying to hand gaff a marlin 4 months ago…see my dentist friend to look at that chipped tooth from a uh…”soda” bottle…and of course the yearly check up at Kaiser for those little “sun spots” on the shoulders and other assorted dings I insist are from working outdoors, but are probably more attributable to getting older, nutritional negligence and my own stupidity and hard headedness.

For example, I have tendonitis (“tennis elbow”) on my right arm. By the end of the season, it’s hard to even lift a six pack or tackle box without a littlewince and twang of dolor. It’s from hours of awkwardly holding a rod and reel on my right side under my arm while soaking a bait…basically a fishing related malady. Doctor told me, “Easily cured. Stop fishing.” Sure. Right. And just how long did you go to medical skewl?

Anyway, I’m sure you’ve been there…stuck in the waiting room of your HMO or doctor’s office. . Unless you’re head falls off your shoulders, you know you’re stuck in the twilight zone. You’re not going anywhere for awhile until they “call your number.” I bitch about it all the time. I’m not so inclined to do that anymore.

A couple of months ago, one of my captains needed a pretty intensive intestinal medical procedure that required he’d be flown to Guadalajara. He’s been one of my best skippers and an all-around good guy. I knew his stomach problem had been getting worse and doctores in La Paz had finally given up non-invasive treatment. He was going to have to go under the knife and understandably he was worried about it.

One day on the water a few weeks before he was supposed to leave, I asked him about medical treatment in Mexico and how that was all handled. It was eye-opening. I was always under the impression that Mexico had a pretty socialized medical set-up so everyone was cared for.
“That’s not true,” he said. “In some of the cities, some people work for some companies that have insurance, but the care is not that good. Most people really have no care.”
I told him that I thought the government covered everyone in Mexico.

“If you can get to treatment, someone will probably see you, but you still have to pay for the medicine and other care. For example, they might tell you that your baby has an infection, but you still have to go out to buy the medicine. You have to even buy the needle and syringe. That is not free. So what is the point? If you live like we do out here in the country, the families of us fishermen live over an hour away from the city. Most cannot get transportation to get care.”
“So, how do people pay for care?” I asked.

“For my own operation, it is hard. I sold our family truck to get some money. I went to sell our family’s bull that is kept on a ranch in the mountains, but bad luck…it was stolen that week. I have had to borrow money from family members all over Baja and it will take 15 years to pay it back…assuming I can still work after the operation,” he said a bit glumly. “I am told in the United States you have insurance that pays you when you cannot work or if you get hurt at work. It is not like that here. We are simple fishermen. ”

“And what happens to people who can’t afford the care?” I asked thinking there must be some avenue of relief for these folks.

“We just die,” he responded softly; turned his eyes and gunned the panga towards the island.

Yea…it’s hard to whine about sitting in an HMO waiting room these days and bitch that there’s no TV or my favorite magazines are missing. I’ve got all the time in the world. We forget that some folks don’t. Hoping you and yours are blessed this holiday season. Felices fiestas, amigos.

That’s my story…
Jonathan