Update: Ok, so my life is getting back to normal now in the sense that strangers aren't treating me like crap anymore... which is a good thing, of course.

The General Hospital in Tijuana

I trekked across the border this morning to get some cheap healthcare. I figure it was time to see a real doctor after losing my hearing for over two weeks due to a severe cold. Even my self prescribed antibiotics (prescription in US, not in Mexico, ha!) regimen over the past week failed to cure my ear infection. I'm sure surfing twice last week, drinking while on antibiotics, and swimming in a nasty mountain pond while on a hike didn't help the situation either.

I don't have med insurance, and the US is too expensive for me--esp given my extra options since I live right next to the border--so I decided to pioneer an experience into Mexican healthcare. I drove down, parked, walked across to Tijuana, ate lunch, caught a cab to the General Hospital and entered a world of mysteries.

What I found at the Tijuana General hospital were roomfuls of stares as I tried to navigate a Mexican med system designed only for its citizens. I decided to ignore every street hawker's protest that I should just go to a private clinic bec I wanted to go to a large and established hospital. I didn't want a shady border doctor who's there to prescribe medical marijuana to any US teenage runaway. I was the only foreigner at a hospital that provided free care for it's citizens. How were they going to bill me? First of all, how was I going to find a registration desk or even figure out what to do?

A warm and helpful lady at information walked me straight through to urgent care, which she insisted was my only option as a foreigner. She promised it wouldn't be expensive, maybe only $10 for a checkup. Sweet!
I totally got special treatment in that hospital, which was one source of my bitterness about China--that I never got special treatment in the Fatherland. My white friends would be treated like royalty while I was kicked to the curb bec I blended in a little too well. Well, au contraire in Mexico. I was rushed to the front of the urgent care line, past all of the critically ill locals who had been waiting there all morning and straight into the doctor's office. Yes, I do feel bad about it.

My doctor was friendly, humble about his English abilities, and extra attentive to me as I explained my symptoms. He checked me out, drafted me a prescription, and sent me on my way refusing to take even a penny. Believe me, I wanted to pay. I asked to pay the hospital, and he declined. I asked to pay him in cash right there, thinking a little bribe would build some goodwill, only to be refused again.

I happily walked out of Tijuana General Hospital with my free prescription in hand and filled it a some pharmacy for $18, then drove home to San Diego. Total time: 3 hours.

It was an interesting experience, and I was most stunned at their willingness to help foreigners as if it was them being hospitable to a personal guest. I definitely can't go back and freeride off of the good Mexican healthcare system in the future. The kind doctor said I can come back in the future, but I feel too guilty for troubling them with this special foreigner case. Each visit would be a theatrical production over there, and I'd rather just pay $30 and risk it with a border doctor or some other alternative.

I know this story sounds really ghetto, but I hope my friends at least found it interesting.