January 13, 2011

Wet and Raw

Pulling away from the Ultramar ferry in Juerto Juarez yesterday, I knew it was going to be a different kind of Cancun day for me. It was. Wet and raw. And really, it's the same on this side of the bay, too.
Frente Frio 20. Day 2 of the Norte, the Nor'easter, which is the 20th cold front since hurricane season.
Maybe they should have gone ahead and built that wall. It might have kept the cold fronts up north where they belong!

January 7, 2011

Cutting edge


Nine hours after admission for repair of an umbilical hernia, the staff of Clinica CAMA in Cancun sent me home. With flowers!

I haven't even paid my bill yet! Close to 3-thousand US dollars for doctors, nurse and facility. Julieta, a doctor and wife of the doctor who founded the clinic, took my information. The Mexican taxpayer receipt will be ready when I return for a check-up on Wednesday.
The surgeon, Jose Manuel Menendez, was terrific. My island doctor, Antonio Salas T. was there too. His UNAM medical college classmate, Dr. Guzman, was the anesthesiologist. He was the one responsible for the rock 'n roll playing in the OR suite when I was being rolled in. Hey, most OR suites at the Cleveland Clinic also rock 'n roll!

He had met with he shortly after admission to to discuss anesthesia options. After some further weighing of pros and cons, I agreed to go with the epidural, as long as I had happy drugs that made all enjoyable and highly forgettable.
The OR room banter was fascinating, with the docs asking Dr. Salas what caused the illness of 500 some people at a Christmas dinner hosted by the mayor, prepared by her brother-in-law.
The official story is salmonella, but Dr. Salas said some people got so violently ill so quickly, that e .Coli must also have been involved. The meal was prepared very early in the day and served in late evening. Pork loin, spaghetti...this is where the memory drug is showing its signs. I can't recall what else he said!
Dr. Jose Manuel was fast and steady. I only felt what seemed a weight on my belly as he worked on me.
So I leave the clinic after walking a bit with the nurses and eating yellow jello (pineapple) and drinking apple nectar.
Carlos came and took me to the UltraMar where I was seated in a wheel chair a by a baggage handler. On the other side, Marla Bainbridge and Tammi Lewis were waiting for me and took my prescrptions and filled them on the way home. Then they warmed up my soup, fed the dog, unpacked my suitcase, and yes, put the roses in water. Does your outpatient clinic give you flowers? Hmmm.


And at home, Sergio had walked the dog and cleaned the pool, promising to be back today, along with Carmen, head of housekeeping. I saw her daughter and son-in-law on the ferry and they said they'd tell her I am home already!
Around 9:30, as I awakened in breath taking pain, Dr. Mendoza called. Si? Take another tramadol with ketorolac. You'll be fine.
And I am. But I'm eyeballing the Demerol written by the Cleveland Clinic for me, since the next option here is morphine. I don't like it one bit. But hey, I certainly am not complaining!



January 3, 2011

The surgeon

This is the man I am entrusting with my belly button and the fist-sized hernia surrounding it. Dr. Jose Manuel Mendozo Cabrera, aka Jose Manuel to radiology at Hospital Americano, has been a doctor since his mid-20s, but only recently accredited as a general surgeon.
Along the way, he was a gastroenterologist with endoscopy and is now a general surgeon certified to perform laproscoptic surgery. He is a year older than me (I like that in a doctor!) at age 57.
I met with him again today and I fessed up that the Z-Pack prescribed by Dr. Yupit did little to clear up my sinus issues. He said it's best to wait until it clears up.
But after thinking it over, he prescribed Cipro and agreed it best to move forward so I an recover my strength in time for the next wave of hostessing at Zina's Guest House.
So, I meet Carlos Telliz, my cabbie and friend, on "the other side" at 7am Thursday and check into CAMA, an anacronym that spells the word 'bed' but means Centro Ambulante etc., an outpatient surgical center with all the life support one might need.
I don't believe the doctor speaks English, but I could be wrong. Someone over the weekend was appalled that I would go to a Spanish speaking doctor. Why? I speak Spanish and there are excellent doctors here for the residents. So why discriminate?