God is chuckling.
My plan was to return to Mexico on Saturday after two weeks in Oregon. But some very interesting circumstances changed my plans.
I will be here for another week.
There are two good reasons to live in Mexico: 1) lower cost of living and 2) high quality health care. My change in travel plans highlighted both.
My doctor in Mexico has prescribed two medications for my high blood pressure. When I left Melaque last month, I packed enough medication to carry me through my planned two-week stay.
Short of a Chanukah miracle, two weeks of medications were not going to stretch three weeks. And they didn't.
In Mexico, when I need medications, I merely drop into one of the multiple village farmacias with the name of the drug I want to buy. No prescriptions. No health insurance card. As if I were buying a packet of aspirin.
Not in Oregon. I stopped by my local Safeway pharmacy with the empty medication boxes. It was almost a scene from Cheers -- with controlled substances playing the role of draft ales. The pharmacist and her two assistants greeted me with: "Steve!"
And that is where the bonhomie ended. The pharmacist looked at the empty boxes, punched up my computer information, and donned the face professionals affect when they are about to deliver bad news. A mix of regret, compassion, and pity.
Well, only half bad news. My prescription for one of the drugs was still open -- even after nine months. She could sell me a two-week supply.
But the other drug required a prescription, and my paperwork from Mexico simply did not meet the legal requirements of the political fun-suckers.
Even we libertarians are prepared to admit that long-term medications should be monitored by a doctor. Mine are.
But without a prescription from an American doctor, I was not going to be afforded any of the benefits of the free market system.
In Mexico, if I needed something from my doctor on a weekend, I would find her either in her office or by walking to her house down the block from my apartment. Just like my family did in rural Oregon in the 1950s.
In Oregon, I could not see my doctor until late January.
One of the creative problem-solvers I talked to suggested that I fake a heart attack in an emergency room. It appealed to my dramatic side. But I didn't want to incur a $1000 bill merely to get a prescription.
And that brings up the second advantage of living in Mexico: cost of living.
In Melaque, I pay less than the equivalent of $3 (USD) for a 40-day supply of medications. Safeway charged me $34.99 for a 14-day supply.
To be fair, not all medications cost less in Mexico. I asked the pharmacist the cost of the drug she could not dispense. It would cost one-third less than what I pay in Mexico. And it is expensive enough to wipe out the savings on the other medication.
The next time I head north, I will pack enough medication to put the TSA and Customs boys in a tizzy.
I can then see what else will occur to cause the Divine Chuckle.
My plan was to return to Mexico on Saturday after two weeks in Oregon. But some very interesting circumstances changed my plans.
I will be here for another week.
There are two good reasons to live in Mexico: 1) lower cost of living and 2) high quality health care. My change in travel plans highlighted both.
My doctor in Mexico has prescribed two medications for my high blood pressure. When I left Melaque last month, I packed enough medication to carry me through my planned two-week stay.
Short of a Chanukah miracle, two weeks of medications were not going to stretch three weeks. And they didn't.
In Mexico, when I need medications, I merely drop into one of the multiple village farmacias with the name of the drug I want to buy. No prescriptions. No health insurance card. As if I were buying a packet of aspirin.
Not in Oregon. I stopped by my local Safeway pharmacy with the empty medication boxes. It was almost a scene from Cheers -- with controlled substances playing the role of draft ales. The pharmacist and her two assistants greeted me with: "Steve!"
And that is where the bonhomie ended. The pharmacist looked at the empty boxes, punched up my computer information, and donned the face professionals affect when they are about to deliver bad news. A mix of regret, compassion, and pity.
Well, only half bad news. My prescription for one of the drugs was still open -- even after nine months. She could sell me a two-week supply.
But the other drug required a prescription, and my paperwork from Mexico simply did not meet the legal requirements of the political fun-suckers.
Even we libertarians are prepared to admit that long-term medications should be monitored by a doctor. Mine are.
But without a prescription from an American doctor, I was not going to be afforded any of the benefits of the free market system.
In Mexico, if I needed something from my doctor on a weekend, I would find her either in her office or by walking to her house down the block from my apartment. Just like my family did in rural Oregon in the 1950s.
In Oregon, I could not see my doctor until late January.
One of the creative problem-solvers I talked to suggested that I fake a heart attack in an emergency room. It appealed to my dramatic side. But I didn't want to incur a $1000 bill merely to get a prescription.
And that brings up the second advantage of living in Mexico: cost of living.
In Melaque, I pay less than the equivalent of $3 (USD) for a 40-day supply of medications. Safeway charged me $34.99 for a 14-day supply.
To be fair, not all medications cost less in Mexico. I asked the pharmacist the cost of the drug she could not dispense. It would cost one-third less than what I pay in Mexico. And it is expensive enough to wipe out the savings on the other medication.
The next time I head north, I will pack enough medication to put the TSA and Customs boys in a tizzy.
I can then see what else will occur to cause the Divine Chuckle.
