I am sick. I don’t know what’s wrong nor if what I have has an official name. Maybe they call it, “Ah-ha-now-you-can’t-breathe-well-and-feel-like-you-are-going-to-die virus. I don’t know. I will probably go to the doctor tomorrow if I am not feeling better.
Going to the doctor in Mexico is simply a delight. There are several reasons for my enchantment with going to Mexican doctors. One is that I can afford it. The best part, in fact, about going to the Mexican doctor is at the end of the visit when you have to pay less than $15.00 for an office call.
This is what you will hear your American doctor telling you,
“That will be all for today. Now be sure to pay your $150.00 DOLLAR office visit fee so you can help make the payment on my brand-new SUV. Be sure to take a look at it on your way back to your little rust bucket of a car. After all you are paying for it!”
You instead hear this from your Mexican doctor,
“That will be $150.00 PESOS (less than $15.00 USD). Oh thank you very much,” the Mexican doctor tells you, “you are very kind.”
Reason number two why I love going to the Mexican doctors is that, if you are a man, they do not ask you every single time to drop your pants to have a look at that worrisome prostate gland.
If you aren’t a man then you have no idea of how obsessive the American medical community becomes about your prostate gland after you reach a certain age! After I hit 45-years old, each time I would go see the doctor, any doctor, they would always want to know when the last time I had my prostate gland looked at.
I would go to the doctor for: