Your first time or two visiting somewhere else, it’s hard to avoid comparing it to what you know at home. With some expected naysayers bleating about this medical venture of ours (usually quite racist in their tone), we’ve definitely been alert to perceiving the differences as well as the similarities to American culture in our time south of the border.
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After Steve has a brief nap, he declares that his last pre-surgery meal will not be the attached hotel Denny’s even if he has to eat from snack machines. We decide to walk across the street to peruse the mall. Those of you dubious about eating out in Mexico will be assured to note that the creeping ooze of American food “culture” is quite thriving in Juarez: Burger King, the Scottish place, Wendy’s, and of course Starbucks reign among many other instantly recognizable logos across the city. (Well, technically they were putting the finishing touches on building a new Starbucks across from the hotel, but I’m positive they have more elsewhere.)
The mall is easily identifiable as a mall; Steve notes that if you blindfolded him and put him into the middle of the mall concourse without letting him see identifying signs, he would guess that he was in a Southwest town with a high Hispanic population, but would not be able to guess he was out of country unless he could see signs. Even the background drone of hundreds of talking people that is the default mall noise sounds like people shopping anywhere else.
There are a few familiar storefronts, and many more that are Mexican in origin but so obviously a counterpart to what we have in the
The meal itself is quite tasty, though I find I’m not that hungry myself. The best part of the meal (other than the people-watching) is the tasty drink that we couldn’t catch the name of due to the accent and speed with which the waiter pronounced it, but is essentially apple juice and merlot with a touch of sugar added. Delightful, and also attractive—they bring it to the table unmixed, with the deep red of the merlot in the top half of the glass slowly seeping down into the translucent amber of the juice.
We don’t linger after the meal but make our way through the still-bustling mall back to the entrance we know will point us toward the hotel. On one end the movie theater lines fill the food court and extend down the passage; we learn later that Wednesdays are a two-for-one ticket special. On the other end someone blares pop tunes at full volume while a room full of participants…exercise? Group-rate dance lessons? We don’t get close enough to tell.
One difference we observe returning to our room is that the road traffic does not seem to diminish at night. There are as many cars driving at 10 pm as there were when we arrived at 4:30pm. Steve spots the ideal place to cross the road, which is good, because otherwise it might have taken 20 minutes to get enough break in traffic. We return to our hotel and, though we attempt an early turn-in, are still up way too late for someone having surgery the next day. Steve is handling his decreased nicotine levels with surprising grace, and he does manage to get some hours of rest.
We awaken early enough for me to grab some complimentary breakfast, which is a generic “continental” set-up that is certainly no worse than American hotels and better than a few in which I’ve stayed. We meet our team assisting Steve in the pre-surgery process at the desk, and they decide we have enough time to visit a local pharmacy before Steve checks in. We linger too long in the pharmacy waiting for one of our purchases to be ready, but the nice things you hear about purchasing medical pharmaceuticals across the border we find to be happily true for us. (I obtained three inhaler refills for the price of one
We check into the hospital after chatting in the car about a police officer who was recently shot and discussing a bit of the local drug kingpin and some of his recent antics. The officers standing outside the hospital on guard all wear Kevlar vests as comfortably as if they never wore anything else. This is a distinct sensory contrast from when we enter, for the bottom floor doesn’t even smell like hospitals do and appears to be a fancy business building lobby. The illusion is only broken by the occasional scrub-dressed person passing through. It takes less than 15 minutes to process Steve’s paperwork which is notable since he left the chart he was supposed to bring with him sitting on the breakfast table back at the hotel. (We apologize to the assistant for making extra work.)
We take the elevator up and now it looks and smells much more medical. However, our expectations are scattered again when we get to our assigned room. It is seriously, no joke, the finest, classiest hospital room I have ever seen. Totally modern-looking medical bed, reasonably large TV, wood accents and floor (obviously a non-porous wood-like substance, but well done), and both a suede-covered recliner chair complete with built-in cup-rest and a suede-covered daybed-style couch with four huge pillows. Yes, really.
The prep team for Steve’s surgery is efficient and quick overall, they have four different people performing various preparatory duties on his different parts. Everyone seems to smile easily, even here. The only part that is obviously not-America (other than the luscious room and friendly helpful service) is the lack of latex. I don’t see most of the nurses using gloves for the prep, so one hopes that they are saving them for the doctor’s use at least.
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They’ve wheeled Steve off and I’ve taken long enough to write this that he should be back within minutes, but for now I sit on a comfy couch, typing and waiting. I think I’ll try to find a net connection so I can post this at least somewhat close to real-time.
16 responses so far ↓
1 invid // Jul 17, 2008 at 6:07 pm
Wow, way to shatter some preconceptions. I am ashamed to find that I am apparently as unconsciously arrogant about America compared to other countries as most people, despite my utter lack of patriotism and frequent diatribes against y own country, in that I was honestly surprised at your description of the hospital and its personnel.
Just another reason to mourn the loss of an American to be proud of, I suppose. Very glad that SKZB is in seemingly excellent hands.
2 Jennifer Evans // Jul 17, 2008 at 6:08 pm
Wow, that sounds like a great room! I’ve been in hotel rooms that didn’t sound as good at that.
Make sure you get enough rest while you’re there, the drive back will suck, otherwise. And, while I know you want to be back home as fast as possible, I’d prefer you back home as whole as possible!
Tell Steve we’re thinking of him here, or at least, I am, and sending him good wishes.
3 Sandra Willis // Jul 17, 2008 at 7:52 pm
I only know this because I spent a year living on Barcelona while I was an undergraduate
4 Sandra Willis // Jul 17, 2008 at 7:52 pm
It sounds like Sangria to me.
5 Keith Spears // Jul 17, 2008 at 9:44 pm
Good healing mojo that direction. Sounds as comfortable as one might want, which is a nice bonus.
6 MarkW // Jul 17, 2008 at 10:28 pm
“The Scottish place”?!?
Please! All who carry the blood of the Scots know that only American or other pretenders use the silly “Mc” instead of the proper Scot “Mac”, meaning “Son of” in the language of kings.
We are not amused. ;)
7 Mary Dell // Jul 17, 2008 at 10:35 pm
Glad things are off to a good start! And the couch is a great thing, being able to room in with your loved one always helps their healing.
8 Slickriptide // Jul 17, 2008 at 11:45 pm
I mentioned this under Steve’s last entry, but I’ll emphasize it - When the doctors say no lifting, they really mean it. After the second day, it’s easy to start thinking that you’re stronger than you really are.
Also, if Steve has any illusions about sharing the driving back home before, say, Monday, then I’d disabuse him of them.
Anyway, glad to hear that the hospital was a good one and, hopefully, that things went well. It’s one of those operations where you can feel them pulling and prodding you over and over, even if you can’t really feel what it is that they’re doing. A weird experience, especially the suturing up.
I imagine that the experience will give him some material for a novel down the road. Ha ha!
9 BigUglyManDoll // Jul 18, 2008 at 4:17 am
We’re all sending good healing vibes Steve’s way! Glad to hear the hospital is comfortable; I’ve been in some here (Northern Virginia) that are much less so than what you describe. Hope that helps to speed the recovery!
10 kit // Jul 18, 2008 at 6:39 am
Just spoke to Reesa on the phone. There don’t seem to have been any complications in Steve’s surgery, but he was sore enough afterwards that they kept him in the hospital overnight rather than releasing him to drive home. Reesa expects that they’ll be taken back to El Paso within the next few hours.
11 Karen // Jul 18, 2008 at 9:36 am
Thanks for the update, Kit. If things had gone poorly we’d expect to have heard, so we were thinking it was all fine, but it’s nice to get some facts.
12 Lewis Himelhoch // Jul 18, 2008 at 9:50 am
Not sure why people would object to what is
your personal choice in medical care. As in finding a good doctor in the US, it’s about
doing the research first. If you’ve checked into this and you have recommendations that your
surgeon knows that he’s doing and has a successful record, it doesn’t matter what country
it is. We’ve got good and bad doctors in the US and I’m sure they’ve got good and bad doctors
in Mexico. Hopefully, you did your homework
and get one of the good ones.
13 Pizzicato // Jul 18, 2008 at 10:06 am
Just finished Jhegaala and wanted to leave a post with some kind of thanks for a highly enjoyable read. Now i find out about your border adventures, so i guess i rather leave some lines of get well (and writing again) soon.
14 Bawrence // Jul 18, 2008 at 10:08 am
Unfortunately, in the US bad doctors enjoy protection on par with pedophile priests. When their oath is discovered bent they’re in many cases shuffled to a new position in another locality to continue practicing.
15 Tom Kater // Jul 18, 2008 at 1:36 pm
I’ve been called out. I can’t take that sitting down. Though I am sitting at the moment. But never mind.
Pardon me, reesa, but Mexico is a place. Places do not have race. If I do not like a place (which in this case, I clearly do not) that is not to say I don’t admire its people for enduring such a place. It would be like saying that criticizing the Hanoi Hilton was somehow a slam at John McCain simply because he was forced by cruel fate to reside in that hellhole. In other words, I don’t appreciate being convicted of thoughtcrime for my “racist tone” (as opposed to racist content, which I would be forced to immediately apologize for if AT ALL true)–and I was the only naysayer, so let’s drop the pretense of the naysayers existing in the plural. Let me add that it’s hardly shattering illusions about Mexico with your glowing reports of a medical facility that so specificially caters to American clientele that they pick you up at the border. Is anyone reading this shallow enough to believe that the average Mexican gets the benefits of such a place, with its office-y smell and one set of gloves to go around? The average Mexican has it much, much worse than what you’re (happily for Steven’s sake) experiencing. And I think poverty and racism are BAD THINGS, for those who get confused about tone. I now give you the last word to tell me what a bigoted fool I am after a final bleat of renewed well-wishing for Mr. Brust (I wouldn’t have even added this post, but you have to admit you kind of called me out, reesa. Delete it if you’d like, I just wanted to set the record straight. Now both of you please get home safe.)
P.S. If anyone else wishes to take parting shots, send them directly to me at tkater@gmail.com, I’m not afraid to hear dissenting views (hence my real name above, as opposed to calling myself Hwdf’rjaanci, though that is quite a cool name and a good second choice). This should be a place to cheer up a soon-to-be-recovering Steven, not bring him down with internecine fan bickering about whether or not the country of Mexico is a shining beacon of personal freedom and democracy by the sea. Peace out.
16 Gailmom // Jul 18, 2008 at 5:04 pm
Tom Kater: I can’t speak for reesa’s comments, but I will speak to you taking them so personally. Just because you felt you were the “only naysayer” on these lists does not mean you weren’t the only one who lifted an eyebrow and said in a worried tone “Mexico? for surgery? really? but….is that even legal?” in other venues. There was, I think, extra concern expressed by more than one person that it was Mexico and not Canada or the US of A in which his surgery would be performed. As I don’t know of a word that means the same thing as “racism” but applies to a place, I think Reesa’s comments were probably intended to reassure those people, and not specifically to “call you out”. I highly doubt most Mexican people can afford to have surgery at that center, and I, like you, think it caters to Americans. On the other hand many Americans can’t afford surgery here…so there you go. I was frankly relieved to hear the facility was as nice as it was. I would have been just as happy to hear that a facility in, say, Houston, was that nice. Either way I think we all wish Steve well and both Steve and Reesa safely returned to us. Please don’t take her comment, probably intended to reassure all of us who instantly conjured up back alley kidney trade at the thought of Mexican surgery (the media and fearmonger-rumour-starters do their job well, don’t they?), as a personal attack. I feel quite sure, knowing Reesa for as long as I have, that if she felt the need to call you out personally, she would use your name to do so.
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