30 Peso "Doctor" ?

I have not been feeling well.  Patricia suggested (see grabbed my arm and dragged me across the street) that I see a doctor.  In Mexico there is a pharmacy on every corner, you used to be able to buy anything you want, now you go to a "doctor" (yes, the quotation marks are intended) and the "doctor exams" you before you can buy narcotics or antibiotics.  In Mexico, medicine seems to be by consensus, everyone has an opinion and tells you what medicine you should be taking.

We waited for a few minutes in the waiting room at the pharmacy, nice enough looking crowd in the waiting room, the others waiting seemed middle class.  The last patient walked out and we are next.  I walked into the "doctor's" office, not sure what to expect.  Behind the desk, was a small man, with long hair covering his dirty glasses.  He was so slumped over  in the chair I couldn't see his face, his chin was literally on the desk.

Patricia told the "doctor" that she would like more syringes of antibiotics.  No questions, he writes the prescription.  In Mexico you give yourself or someone else give you a shot of antibiotics if you have a cold.  I have now given Patricia two shots, having never done it before.   While Patricia is talking to the "doctor", I look around the office, above his desk is a picture of Jesus holding the hand of a surgeon, behind the desk are badly xeroxed copies of diplomas and above the examination table is a picture of Mary.  It is obvious that the sheet on the examination table is very old.

My turn, Patricia describes that I have a sore throat and congestion in my chest.  The "doctor" pantomimes, take off your jacket.  He gets up from behind the desk, he is still all bent over, he is short, but it looks like he is carrying a very heavy backpack.  I take off my jacket and he puts a thermometer in my armpit.  My first thought "how many armpits has that thermometer been in today?".  Then he puts a stethoscope on my back and pantomimes "take a deep breath", looks down my throat, then grabs my throat and asks in Spanish, "does that hurt?" (hell yes, that hurts).

He shakes his head and says to Patricia is Spanish "infection".

He writes a prescription for antibiotics a decongestive and aspirin.  Then I pay him 60 pesos ($4.30USD), we go next store and buy all of the prescriptions 400 pesos ($28USD).

If nothing else the story is worth 60 pesos.

I have gone to the doctor in Italy, Vietnam, Indonesia and now Mexico.  Seems like Mexico is a basterdization of the US medical system, "here are some drugs, go feel better".  I think I perfered when Ketut Leiyer said I have a "back that is open to flowers".