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The unique thing is that this place was the "state" or "country" hospital. I suppose "county" would be the closest word in English to describe this place. Actually, it is a hospital associated with the ISSSTE system. This is a national insurance system that even Gringolandians can take advantage of. You pay a yearly fee of about (that last I checked) was $300.00 USD, and you are covered if you use this hospital and their doctors.
Well, the place reminded me very much of my University days. The University of Kansas had (still has) a hospital for students and faculty that I would not bring my pig to for treatment of anything. It was positively ghoulish. Students had to stay in wards and all looked heavily medicated, in a comatose kind of way, when you walked through the long army barrack looking row of beds.
Fortunately, my friend was in a private room, dreadful as it was.
The room was smaller than most American master bedroom walk-in closets. There was no TV, nothing on the walls but peeling paint, and a patent leather recliner that looked as though someone in a wild rage took a large butcher knife to it. And, the smell was that of urine and death.
Also, to get to her floor to see her was like trying to see the President of the United States. The security, and I am talking the everyday, general security, was incredible.
You CANNOT just walk into the place. You have to go through three levels of security to see your sick friend.
The first level you have to shown picture id and sign a ledger. Then you are escorted to the elevators. There are two security personnel there. You leave your picture there at that station and another guard walks you to the room you claim you are there to see. The visiting hours are once a day from noon until one. You get just a minute or two until some burly guard comes in and removes you.
This is the normal every day security procedure to see your ordinary, everyday friends. But, I thought it a bit excessive.
It did remind me of how when I was in an American hospital to have my thyroid removed there was this man who appeared in my room at three in the morning standing about five feet away from me and was staring at me in the dark. I could not cry out since my throat had just been slit from ear to ear.
I watched him while moving my hand slowly and as quietly as I could toward the phone. I was woozy from the pain meds but felt I could crown him a good one if he came any closer. I could not see to find the call button and besides, I did not want to take my eyes off of him.
He walked into the bathroom and made wee-wee then left as silently as he crept in.
Once gone, I found the call button and rang for the nurse. She came running with security. By the next day, they found the guy. He was some whack job who had wandered in off the street, totally unchallenged, and used my room's potty facilities. They found him sleeping in a waiting room on another floor.
So perhaps the Mexican security is not so bad after all.
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Crimes and misdemeanors: Staying safe in San Miguel
Is SMA still safe, or falling prey to drug dealers and thugs?
By Anne Nicolai
August 11, 2009
Knowledge is power: Spanish-speaking residents are safer
Across the board, every official interviewed for this article agreed that one of the best ways for foreigners to provide for our personal safety is to learn the language of the country that we’re living in. They point out that Spanish speakers have an easier time getting to know their neighbors and the local police. Knowing the language also helps when calling for help or reporting a crime.
In fact, the author’s calls to the various emergency telephone numbers prove this point: on two different days, at two different times of day,...there were no English-speaking operators.
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