I’M SITTING ON a hard pew in the main cathedral of the state capital. Instead of praying or even reading the Bible, I’m waiting and occasionally reading Donald Rumsfeld’s memoirs on my Kindle. That fellow in the pew ahead of me is probably praying enough for the both of us.
God and doctors. That’s the theme for today. God because, well, look where I am, surrounded by religious trappings as only the Catholics can do it. I enjoy sitting here. Wish I had a cushion, however, for my skinny butt. Doctors, because my wife is visiting one right now.
Allow me to rub it in some more, to those of you who live outside Mexico, poor darlings, trapped by “free,” socialist, medical schemes in both Canada and, now, Barry’s America.
My child bride was unfortunate enough to have two medical crises at the same time, neither life-threatening but both physically unpleasant. It began on Monday, so we phoned Specialist No. 1 in the nearby state capital and easily made an appointment for the following day at 10 a.m.
Monday night, problem No. 2 erupted, so as we were driving to the state capital Tuesday morning, we phoned Specialist No. 2 and easily made an appointment for 11:30, 90 minutes later.
Can you do that where you live? Heck no.
While she was at the office of Specialist No. 1, I walked the four blocks to this cathedral. Yes, I’m not actually sitting there at this moment. Luckily, she finished in time for us to drive to Specialist No. 2, whose office is in the annex of the Star Médica hospital, a great Mexican chain.
Both issues were handily resolved, and we paid the reasonable charges in cash.
And that, mis amigos, is how health care should be handled.
Efficiently, intelligently, affordably.