Insurance, rheumatic fever, and things like Jonah.

So, although I have no exciting travels to update you on from this current weekend (I didn´t want the title to lead you astray), I have many other exciting insights and cultural experiences to present, so sit back and relax.


I almost died of rheumatic fever.



Ok, so that´s an exaggeration. I only felt like having someone remove my throat from my body, because my tonsils were inflamed when I awoke with a fever Thursday morning. (I was supposed to go play horn for the kids at Ceoli. THAT didn´t happen. I took a shower and then a 4 hour nap). After sleeping away the whole day and drinking more cups of tea than ever before in all my life combined, I decided on Friday when I could still see more of my tonsils than my tongue and when I couldn´t speak Spanish in class (not because of lack of knowledge, but lack of motor skills) that I would go to the doctor.


This was a serious decision because of some warnings I recieved before I came down here. But since I´ve been here, I´ve decided anything that is good enough for the Bolivians I live with here is more than good enough to suffice for me. That and the fact that I decided it was either go to the doctor or never eat or swallow or speak again. The decision was really not that hard. :)

Friday afternoon i got my first insight into the a world of non-American health care. Let me tell you, it was just as shiney and clean, and, if I knew Spanish better, it would have been less intimidating. I went to my coordinator´s personal doctor at his job in a big insurance hospital for some huge bank thing. I didn´t understand, but it was large and clean and didn´t smell like a hospital. The doctor was very kind and listened patiently as I struggled to explain in Spanish what was going on. But my motions and the translation of Jean Carla (coordinator) got it across clearly. Then, the examination went exactly as every other strep throat exam has gone in my life. Minus the super long cotton swab and all the nurses taking my pulse. It was just me, Jean Carla and the doc, he took a look down my throat and said, ¨Dios Mio!¨ (which means ¨my God!¨, never a great thing to hear from an experienced health worker when you´re on the table). He told me how strong I was for withstanding the pain and how glad he was that I had come when I did because people can develop rheumatic fever later on in life from what I had.

Gee.


He gave me a prescription, and we headed out the door, no nurses or reception ladies involved. In the States I think it would have taken 2 hours longer and employed at least 7 more people. But I think what we did would have been illegal in the states, me, a private (out of country) patient visiting him during a time he was supposed to be working for a private company. In that private company´s facilities. Oh well, T.I.B.


We took the prescription to a drive through pharmacy, and Jean Carla told the lady how many of this strong antibiotic I wanted. Wow. And no cool Kroger bottle with my name and address on it. Just the box the pills originally come in. Ok. :) A strong antibiotic, anti-inflammatory, and a visit to the doc all cost less than 40 bucks. woo hoo.


Since my visit, I did a little Wikipedia exploration on my possibly tragic future with rheumatic fever. I knew that the Bolivians exaggerate when it comes to how delicious food is or how cold the weather is, but not that they would tell me I might get a disease that almost entirely effects children and that only has a 2% chance of causing me serious harm anyways. Oh, and this whole time I´ve had the strep throught I always thought it was. I know my strep throats.

At any rate, according to my Bolivian family, I simply must have my tonsils out when I return to the states. Yay for ice cream. :)


The pills worked lovely, and by Friday evening, as I lie in bed watching Friends, I already felt better. But I was still sick of tea.



That was my experience with Bolivian health system. Quite lovely, I have a check up scheduled for Monday. Now for my experience with Bolivian vehicle and health insurance.

Saturday, I thought, was going to be a lovely day. I lie in bed for the first morning I could remember in a very long time without a thing to do when I woke up. I listened to some music, watched a little TV and finally got dressed to go to my Bolivian sister´s house for lunch. I grabbed a plate of salad and my other sister´s boyfriend grabbed a tray of soups and we got in the car. We discussed coca growing in Bolivia and the jungle, and my trip to La Paz next weekend on the way over. It was the Day of the Children in Bolivia, so we picked up a present for Alexia, my niece here. As we were pulling onto the street where my sister lives, a van passed on the side we were turning. With a few choice Spanish words exchanged, my sister went to continue her turn, when all the sudden a motocyclist was on the hood of our car.

no lie.

Because the van had passed at such an inopportune moment, we could neither see the cyclists nor he see us, and we had a collision. Thankfully, the first I saw of the cyclist was him hopping around, in one piece while his bike lie vertically against the front of our car, back wheel still going strong.

Next thing I know, my sister´s boyfriend next to me is cursing and waving his hands around. I thought he was somehow hurt, even though we weren´t moving. Nope. Just the very very hot soup (which I later found out was all for me, since I wasn´t to have solids yet) that was now all over his lap. Ouch. There was mass confusion, trying to catch the cyclist and make sure he was not in shock, trying to right the cycle and stop it from spinning, and I was busy trying to clean up the soup in the car (futile effort, let me tell you). I was dropped at the other sister´s house with the car and my mom and sister went with the man to the hospital to see he was taken care of to take care of his bill, since they were at fault. The boyfriend went to see what the damage was done to the bike, and to see how much that would be.

I was left standing at the door of the house, amazed at how smoothly an odd kind of justice had taken place without the aid of Geico or All-State.

Bolivians take care of each other. Even though my sister could not have seen him coming because of the van, they made sure that this cyclist was taken care of, because they´re all grown adults, and someone has to pay. Amazing to see this and compare it to the headbutting episode that took place with the coke dealers (see my trip to Uyuni).

Anyways, I was eating the little bit of soup that survived the wreck with my Bolivian grandfather, brother in law, and the boyfriend, waiting for the women to return from the hospital (the guy was fine, just a scrape on his knee, wow.). At this moment another tradgedy struck, before anyone had time to recover from the first. Cobu, Alexia´s dog was missing. Oh man. Tears started streaming, and immediately the men left their steak and beer at the table (as well as a large hunk of meat cooking on the grill, which I had to attempt to save later on) to man the search. They all disappeared in different directions in the neighborhood, determined to be the hero to this little 5 year old and bring back a bundle of joy to her. However, I watched sadly as each man returned emptied handed, over an hour later, with a look of defeat as if their army had just lost the war. It´s amazing how men love the women in their lives, including the 5 year olds. :)

So, in case Cobu decides to run north for the winter, here´s a picture that looks something like him. Minus, of course, the ridiculous orange polo shirt. Cobu would never wear something like that. (by the way, there´s a 400 bs reward!!)

Today I ate pizza with corn on it, and it was good. for real. I hope I can find a way to get that back in the states.

And, just an update on my personal life.

I saw a gorgeous shooting star last night at 3 am. It was one of those that you feel like God put out there just for you because you took the time to give his stars a good glance.

And I´ve been reading the book of Jonah lately. And thinking about how I think I would have liked Jonah. He seems like a kind of hard head with a good heart. I´m sure Tarsus was not his first screw up. And I wonder what he was thinking when he told the pirates (sure, the word is ¨sailors¨but is so much better to think of Johnny Depp in the book of Jonah) that it was his fault, throw him overboard. I´m pretty sure he didn´t think God was going to bail him out of this one in his great mercy. And he´s met with a big fish. Ponder on that with me for a while, then tell me your opinion of the humor of God. :)

When I did a search for ¨big fish¨ this was one of the first pics. Haha. I love kids and their brand of pride.
Now, you, too, can be Just Like Jonah!!! (please wait for only 3 hours while we inflate your miracle)

This guy looks like he wishes he was Jonah. I think he´s just weird. I hope you don´t think I´m too weird for putting pictures of strangers (and their dogs) on my blog. I felt guilty about the lack of pics this post around. :)

Until next post!

(Btw, if you´re looking for a specific Bolivian story or trinket, now´s the time to let me know!)