UruguayLiving.com

Last week, I took the first small step in what will surely become my biggest adventure in Uruguay to date. As my regular readers know, after seven years of torment, the Staph infection in my leg is finally gone. The two worst results of these long years of infection and rigorous treatment have been a ravaged immune system, and a doubling of my weight.

The short story is, that unless I want to stand before the Heavenly Throne in very short order, I need to shed 100 kg (about 220 lbs) of weight–in other words I need to lose more than an entire Copperhead in body weight. At this point, the only way to achieve that is through surgery. My body has just been too messed up by the years of infection and powerful drugs to admit of any other course of action.

I’m not going to go into all the medical details, because this is not a medical blog, it is a Uruguay blog. Nevertheless one of the big things on the minds of so many people considering a move to Uruguay is: “What is the quality of the medical care in Uruguay?”

From my perspective, it is superb!

It is very different from the medical care to which people in the US have become accustomed. Treatments here are based primarily on the science and art of medicine and NOT on insurance companies’ actuarial tables or anticipatory defenses against lawsuits by junkyard dog attorneys.

The first thing one notices is that the attitude of a doctor here is infinitely less haughty than most of his American counterparts–their bedside manner is more that of a trusted advisor than some kind of Aeschylapian demigod. In reality, they come across as very much like the ‘good old local doctor’ of days gone by, before medicine in America was taken over and destroyed by the insurance companies and the government.

If this judgment sounds too harsh to you, let me tell you about my last two doctors’ appointments, and you can judge for yourself.

Last Thursday, I had an appointment at Hospital Militar to consult with a doctor about the possibility of weight reduction surgery. I met with Dr. Luis Taroco, who it turned out, was the Head of Surgery at the hospital. He was a chubby man of average height and the first words out of his mouth were, “you are expecting someone skinny?” That put me at ease, at least I wasn’t going to be faced with a lecture on my weight from a “body Nazi”. He spent the next 45 minutes detailing the options in front of me and explaining which one he thought was best and why. He told me the entire process through which I would have to go, and he even told me how much it cost. (I can’t remember the last time a Yankee doctor deigned to mention money.) That consultation costs me a total of 237 pesos Uruguayos, about 10 Yankee dollars.

At the end of the consultation I thanked the doctor and gave him a copy of my book about living in Uruguay.

Later that evening, I received an e-mail from Dr. Taroco thanking me for the book and sending me an article in English detailing everything he had told me during our consultation. I was really impressed–I think that’s the first e-mail I’ve ever gotten from a doctor that was attending me.

Yesterday I had an appointment with Dr. Taroco’s partner, Dr. Pedro Rivero Amespil, in order to actually initiate the process that will lead to my surgery.

Their offices were located just a block off of Bulevar España in Parque Rodo. The building was an example of the fine, well preserved, classic architecture so often found in Montevideo. Marble floors and real wood paneling displayed the wealth of a previous time.

Santiago (a.k.a. Jimbo) and Borko (a.k.a. Bubba) were with me: Santiago, to translate and Borko, to drive and push the wheelchair–Borko is proud that he is one of the few people who manages to “push me around” on a regular basis.

Amazingly, for a medical office in a country that is so polite, and is so friendly, there was no handicapped ramp. Instead, I was greeted with three marble steps. Borko took the wheelchair and went in first, and I followed tottering along on my canes. It would have been sheer hell had I not been able to do so—I think a derrick would have been required…

The lobby was spectacular: more marble and wood dominated by an antique fireplace. On the left was a steep metal staircase that seemed entirely out of place, and that I was afraid I would have to try to scale.

We arrived 15 minutes early, so I expected a good long wait. To my surprise, a white coated gentleman descended the stairway within a minute or two, got a key from the receptionist, and led us back to an outside consultation room on the front landing of the building. The hand-made double wooden doors were opened to admit my wheelchair.

During the next 30 minutes Dr. Rivero went over much of the same information previously discussed with Dr. Taroco. He went on to tell me that their goal was for me to be the very first patient using a new laparoscopic surgical procedure which is far less invasive, hence far less dangerous than flaying me like a catfish. (I think its because I am the biggest person they have ever had squeeze through their doors.) I was told that tests would commence next week with the goal of surgery around the end of June.

Again, as with Dr. Taroco before him, I was impressed with Dr. Rivero’s manner–I really felt like I had gone back in time 40 years. The meeting ended with handshakes all around and that was that. There were no charges; there were no tests–the purpose of this meeting is simply to get acquainted.

Wow!

So, if you ask me in the future, “wouldn’t you feel safer getting your surgery done in America?”, and I just laugh and walk away, remember this post.

Posted by southron on Saturday, May 19th, 2007 at 16:01.