The Wringer

INM. Migracion. It is the agency we deal with to stay here, to legally make money (or lose) off our property, get jobs, pay taxes. Every year, it involves paperwork and trips to Cancun to get our visas.
It is highly unpleasant. From Mexican nationals who want a passport, to us gringos. We are all there. The ones who can't take it hire lawyers.
And this week was my turn. My lawyer did all the work and I only set foot inside twice to sign papers. Carlos Telliz, my sainted cab driver, stayed busy outside.
And then after each visit, Carlos took me to see my surgeon. Yesterday, he waited outside the office as Dr. Jose Manuel Mendoza cut my belly button, pushed serous fluid, uninfected, out of my abdomen, and removed tissue that had died due to poor circulation in the middle and installed a drainage tube. Oh, I hope you weren't having breakfast!
Mendoza, it turns out, did a 10 year hitch on Isla Mujeres as the Navy gastroenterologist, before his surgical career. So we chitchatted about island life while he worked with the assistance of Julieta.
Anyway, I'm a wearing a tube and a self massaging belt to get fluids out. Tomorrow, 8am, Carlos takes me back to Dr. Mendoza to remove the dressing and then I begin my beach life. Woohooo!