Downsizing -- House, Knees and Fur

 Let's Start With The House

Many of you have been to our gigantic, yet hideously quirky, house here in Ajijic Village.  While having its charms, it requires a gardener five days a week and is a maintenance nightmare.  But it is so roomy.... and great for parties.... and induces laughter and merriment amongst our friends.  Hard to give up.  So hard in fact, that we have been relentlessly, yet fruitlessly, seeking a new Nirvana to purchase for over a year.  But  there has always been an issue.  Two story.  No pool.  No casita.  Dark. The list was endless.  We had many criteria.  Among the most crucial were:
- Had to be in the Village
- Had to be one story
- Had to have a pool
- Had to have a casita

We'll as any home seeker knows, 50% ain't bad.  It's not that we meant to violate the rules.  So here's how it happened.  Whilst vacationing, without a care, we received an email that the evil landlord had actually managed to sell this wreck of a house and we were to be out by November 15th.  We were confident a long term rental would be a snap.  Our error.  Worst time of the year to try to rent.  All those snowbirds are soon to be on their way and have snapped up everything.  Damn.  Next approach.  Well, let's go see houses that are for sale (everything here has been for sale for AGES) and then say, "How about a long term rental and maybe we'll buy it (or not)".  Clever eh?  So, off we trot.  And the first  house we see is IT.  Well, of course it is not IT because it violates 50% of our rules but Michael and I look at each other and we both know it is IT.  Every time we've bought a house we just know when it is  IT except for the Wellesley house where Michael had a hard time getting over the giant green tennis racquet wallpaper in the hall bathroom and the master bathroom shower with things growing on the walls that science has yet to discover, much less name.  But he came around quickly.

So we bought it because it hadn't been on the market that long and a lot of people were looking at it and besides it was IT. So what is IT?  IT is not in the Village (Rule #1).  But it is very close to the Village and, if you have the constitution of an Alpine goat, walkable to the Plaza.  But, what it does have to compensate for being non-Village is an amazing view of the lake.  And wonderful breezes because you are up high.  IT is two story but this is really only half a violation of Rule #2 because the casita is on the lower (pool) level while all our own daily living area is on one floor.  IT is in compliance with Rules 3 and 4.

Well, we won't bore you further with many particulars but will include some pictures.  It's about 3,000 sq. feet but who knows, it's Mexico.  Could be more or less.  The best part is that, unlike most homes here, it is tastefully furnished and we could buy it all right down to the linens (very fine), pots and pans etc. etc.  This is important to people like the Searles who, at this moment, own one couch and that is it.

It is, of course, tasteless to discuss cost. However, having laid bare the cost of our medical bills, why should we hold back on housing costs.  This is to provide our pals who live on either Coast the wonderful opportunity to see the purchase price and then go beat their heads against walls.  It was on the market for $399K without furnishings.  We figured we could probably get it for about $365K  We wanted the entire contents of the house so went in at $385 and got it for $390K.  Now, I am going to stop providing this intimate info (dental cleanings $40) if a whole legion of you don't pack up and move down here very, very soon.

Deirdre & the two realtors at the entrance to the house.

Kitchen View I

Kitchen View II

Kitchen View III

Dining area looking toward living room & terrace.

Fully stocked liquor & wine cabinet.

The wooden pegs pull out, the leaves unfold & this table can become a serving buffet or an extra dining table.

The four way fireplace between the living room & the sitting room (to be converted into the office).  The leopard skin goes.  All leopard skin goes.

More of the living room.

The sitting room, currently.

The terrace with a table & chairs for al fresco dining (under cover).

View of the pool (a Deirdre necessity) and the back yard from the terrace.

The downstairs casita with a built-in wrap around sofa.

The other side of the wrap around sofa.

The breakfast bar in the casita.

The king size bed in the casita bedroom.  The pony rug probably goes.  You can vote on it.

The dresser in the casita bedroom.

Casita Bathroom.

View from the yard to the terrace.

Sitting room view of the fireplace.

Master Bedroom.

Master Bathroom View I.

Master Bathroom View II.

View from Master Bedroom to sitting room.

Powder Room sink.

Guest Bedroom.

Guest Bathroom.

 So, that's it on the house.  For some reason we don't have a view of the lake in the photos.  Will remedy soon.  We close on September 25th and will be moved in by November 15.  We'll start moving stuff as soon as Michael can gimp around on his newly reconstituted legs.  Which leads us to.....

The Knee Bone's Connected to the Thigh Bone... or Used to Be

Why life is unfair.  Michael has always been almost the perfect weight.  Michael has always consistently exercised ( running, walking, biking) for over 40 years.  Deirdre has always been "pudgy" and has loathed exercise in any form and has only performed it as a bonding exercise with her much beloved husband.  Why life is unfair.  Michael's knees suck and Deirdre's are fine.  Go figure.  Genetics? Or lack of use?  Think about it.

So, when Michael was suffering very strange high blood pressure  and we went to see Dr. Santiago Hernandez he exhorted both of us to walk more.  And that was a good suggestion.  Except after a simple two mile walk, Michael was a cripple.  To his credit, Dr. Santiago is like "Jeez, that was a really bad idea.  Sorry."  You're basic NOB Doctor would NEVER say that. And, it wasn't his fault.  Michael did not fully disclose his persistent problems with the knees because..... well, he is a man.

Anyway, we have diddled with this blog so long that Michael has had his knee surgery.  But it is WAY too long to get into in this blog.  Suffice to say he is fine -- really fine.  Once we wheel the gimp in to put up pictures for this blog we will begin the next blog entitled predictably:  Mikey Goes to the Hospital -- Round Two.  There will be a Round Three but stifle your enthusiasm.



It's Hard Being a Geriatric

No, not us this time -- Siam.  Having cruised past her 19th birthday we noted that while she still hops on the sofa and bed, her arthritis is keeping her from grooming herself... and she is loath to let us help her.  The predictable result was massive fur balls and knots rendering her less than attractive.  So, we went to Dr. Memo, the vet, for a consultation.  "How do we get the knots out?", we asked.  "Well, we normally sedate them and go at it," he said.  "She's 19," we said.  "Oh, that would be a very permanent sleep."  A new approach was called for.

In deference to her age, Dr. Memo sent his groomer Miguel to our house.  Even vets do house calls here.  Now, for any of you with cats, I ask you to picture the carnage if your cat were lifted onto a table, confronted by a stranger with loud buzzing clippers and subjected to a 45 minute shave down.  Not pretty eh?  What a cat!  It took Miguel only a minute to realize he didn't have to wrap her in a towel to subdue her.  She stood, pathetically crying occasionally I admit, while Michael held her and Miguel sawed away at the knots.  No scratching, no biting, nothing.  Great cat.  For your amusement, a before and after picture are provided.  Cost (here we go again)  300 pesos or about $25.00.  We gave him a big tip.  He was happy, we were happy, Siam was.... happy eventually.

Siam before her haircut in her unmatted days.

The new shaved Siam.

Odd Note:

The intersection between the one big road (carretera) and second biggest road (libremiento) always has someone doing something for money at the traffic light.  Sometimes there are people all dressed in white who we thought were Cruz Roja (Red Cross) for months but they aren't.  We still don't know who they are.  Then there was the Mime (I hate Mimes) who mimed washing your windshield and demanded money. Now there is the world's worst juggler.  I mean not even close.  He has only three objects and during one stop light he missed a catch and  hit a person walking by, he hit himself in the head with the bowling pin and then almost put out the windshield of a bus.  A stellar performance.  He must live a very circumscribed existence given his demonstrated talents.

Well, we're off for now.  But we promise the next installment soon.  Regards to all of you and please let us know what you are up to.  Take care.

The Road to Hell is Paved....

Yeah, you know, "with good intentions".  Bear with me for just a moment.  As you know, Michael and I recently set off on a three week journey to the U.S. to reconnect with family and friends.  The first stop was Gatlinburg, TN for the Family Reunion.  The Smoky Mountains are a rugged, beautiful, majestic backdrop for what we discovered is one of the most bizarre and, I'm afraid, uniquely American experiences that we have ever encountered.  Pigeon Forge.  A town comprised of a six lane highway packed with a mind boggling assortment of amusements and gewgaws squarely aimed at the lowest common denominator of the American species.  Lest you consider me elitist, a full photo expose will be included and you may draw your own conclusions.

So, how does the title of this blog tie in with Pigeon Forge?  It's all about Dolly Parton.  Now Dolly Parton is an amazingly talented and very smart (really she IS very smart) singer who was born in Locust Ridge, Tn. in the environs of Pigeon Forge.  She sought to increase employment in a very economically depressed area by taking over a failing/failed amusement park and turning it into Dollywood.  And then Dollywood Splash Center and a chain of Dixie Stampede dinner theaters.  These employ over 3,000 people.  Mission accomplished.  However, we all know about mission creep.  From this noble beginning was spawned a miasma of the ghoulish, absurd and just plain ugly.  While our family largely remained in the Smokey Mountain Park doing nature-y things like hiking,  zip-lining and white water rafting, all of us, at one time or another, snuck off to partake of the sins of Pigeon Forge.  One car-less relative even begged us to take him there so he could photograph it for posterity.

Gatlinburg is touristy but Pigeon Forge enters a new dimension.  First, let us tackle cuisine -- a sure sign of the sophistication of any culture.  We counted over 20 Pancake Houses (known as flapjacks there) in a space of less than 5 miles.   Then there were the "Dinner Theaters".  We have already referenced the numerous Dixie Stampedes but there were more, many more.  Here we go with a brief list:  The Hatfield and McCoys Dinner Theatre, The Lumberjack Feud Dinner Theater, The Biblical Times Dinner Theater (honestly), The Smith Family Dinner Theatre and I think about six others.  One pictures wholesale murders at Hatfield/McCoys, we know there is a chain saw fight at Lumberjacks, Biblical Times was featuring Psalms that week.... what can we say.  Add to this the festive charm of every known fast food franchise in America and we have summed up the gustatory landscape of Pigeon Forge.

One of the many arcades lining the "strip" in Pigeon Forge.

Another one of the amusements on the "strip".

Another arcade flanked by miniature golf on one side and an ice cream parlor on the other side.

One of the many pancake purveyors in Pigeon Forge.

Only at the Biblical Times Dinner Theater can one get a 7 course feast of Biblical Proportions.

Pigeon Forge's version of Mount Rushmore with John Wayne, James Dean, Marilyn Monroe & Charlie Chaplin.

The Hollywood Wax Museum has it all.

King Kong towers above the museum clutching a biplane.

And next to the Hollywood Wax Museum is Hannah's Castle of Chaos.

And just down the "strip" is Wonderwork's upside down building...

which is next to the Hatfields & McCoys Dinner Show.

Another tourist trap on the "strip".

There is even a pancake house honoring a former president.

This is the Titanic museum on the "strip".

How many fast food franchises can you find in this photo?

The "strip" even attracts some Mennonite girls.

Another denizen of the "strip".

We spotted this on the way into Gatlinburg...

and had to stop to memorialize this in a photo...

but were lucky to capture the newlyweds coming out of the chapel.

And now, for all of you who natter on and on about the dangers of living in Mexico. Ha!  It is nothing compared to the lawlessness of rural Tennessee.  No contest.  I was standing in the checkout counter of Walgreen's when the call came over the PA.  "Security code, alert, Security code".  The cashier looked with disinterest at the two felons limping strangely out the front door.  I picked up the tabloid I had just paid for and exited along with an irritated employee who had pursued the scoundrels.  We stood watching them gimp off across the parking lot. "So, what's up?" I asked.  "Those jerks just stuck everything they could down their pants and high tailed it," she said.  "So, what are you going to do?"  "Don't know.  Nothing I guess.  Happens all the time."

I returned to the car and Michael and I set off back home as I reviewed the latest issue of the periodical I had just picked up entitled Just Busted.  A WEEKLY newspaper dedicated to those who had been arrested in the five or six small towns encircling Pigeon Forge.  Page after page of mug shots with charges listed below each flattering photo.  Special sections labeled This Week in the Drunk Tank or Latest Sex Offenders.  It went on for many, many pages.  At the bottom of each page in tiny type it said "All persons are considered innocent".  Yeah, right.  I could just picture the denizens of the county opening Just Busted and saying: "Ma, hey look, they got Billy Jo with his pants down again" or "Sissy, did you know anything about Cousin May and Cousin Lou running a meth lab up yonder?"  I was the envy of the family as we passed it around during dinner and they eagerly asked where they could procure a copy to take home.  Mexico is so civilized.

The reunion was great -- about 60 people made it this time.  I never do a travel log thing (unless I stumble upon a gem like Pigeon Forge).  But, for those of you who care, we moved on from the reunion to Boston where we saw both our sons in one place (a rarity) and ran from pillar to post visiting almost all our friends.  From there to Maine where we spent time in Portland with more friends and then celebrated my brother Steve's 70th birthday in Bethel Maine.  There Steve, I put it in print -- no denying it now.

Back to Mexico to discover our house had been sold while we were away, the insurance company was denying Michael's knee surgery (don't get us started) and that life had continued here without us (always a shock).  Now we are back in the saddle looking for a house, fighting with the insurance company and playing once more with our Mexico pals.

We will keep you updated on all the results of everything. Soon.  Meanwhile, thanks to all of you who hosted us, indulged us and continue to be the best friends and family anyone could hope for.  Cheers.

Late Breaking News:

Due to our tardiness in posting this blog more events have transpired.  We bought a house. It's a long story about going out with the purpose of procuring another long term rental and inexplicably (after searching for over year with a strict set of standards) buying a house in two days that violated most of our rules.  However, we really do love this house.  So, I guess that's what counts.  We will bore you to tears with photos of the acquisition in the next blog.

Michael goes in for his knee surgery on Thursday.  Predictably (or not) the insurance company refuses to pay for it (wear and tear they say).  I say, at this point everything is wear and tear.  They'll pay for a heart attack (five year olds don't get them with their new little hearts do they?) but not ripping your ACL.  Well, there are certain things beyond the ken of mortal men so this must be one of them.  We will chronicle our second round with health care SOB.

Regards to all.

Special Edition - Mikey Goes to the Hospital

Well, it's kind of hard to figure out how to tackle this one.  I will spare you the grisly details but I think our experience with serious health care in Mexico will be instructive (Yet not dull!  I promise not dull!) and surprising to our American pals.  While Mother always told me that it is tacky to discuss finances, I shall trot the costs out because with the health care crisis and costs in the U.S. it might offer a glimpse into what a different system can provide.

Prologue
As many of you know, Michael and I are too young for Medicare.  When we came to Mexico we signed up for Private Insurance ($2,176.00 for both of us per year with a $5K deductible vs. $24K for both with an $8K deductible in U.S.). Now, to be fair, the policy we got in Mexico was for catastrophic coverage & did have some exclusions like knee replacement etc. Then we found out they excluded us from cardiac care for a preexisting condition even though our high blood pressure was controlled. Well, maybe not, but we didn't know it.

So, we went to Seguro Popular (the national health insurance) and got lots of good treatment for free.  We figured that if we had heart problems we could use them until we could figure out the insurance thing.  At Seguro Popular they discovered that Michael had uncontrolled high blood pressure and his EKG wasn't perfect.  Switched his meds which controlled the high blood pressure better and scheduled him for a stress test in October.

Then we found out we could get a group policy with Boomers in Paradise (love the name) for $900 p/p per year with the same $5K deductible.  We'd have another year exclusion for cardiac but after that we'd be home free.  Signed up.  Part of that package was that they had found a doctor (American born but completely bilingual) who would work with the group & give us a group discount.  So we went to the intake appointment.  We brought our medical records.  Dr. Hernandez spent a full hour with each of us reviewing everything (including stuff we'd forgotten) about our health.  I can't remember spending that long in a doctor's office unless I was sitting in the waiting room.

Cutting to the chase, Dr. Hernandez looked at Michael's EKG and said,  "Hmmmm... October for a stress test.  I think not.  If it were my father sitting in that chair...."  While initially resistant to doing anything before our next trip (but there is always a next trip with us), we caved and said OK.  On to the stress test.

The Procedures
We sauntered off to Guadalajara for a chemically induced echo cardiogram stress test.  I loath chemically induced things but Michael's knees (another installment) precluded running so chemical it was.  It is very different here.  You can pick your hospital.  Some are way less expensive than others (like the U.S. but WE get to choose).  For this test, Dr. Hernandez suggested a very nice, Catholic, art deco hospital which was economical but had everything we needed.  I was invited in to watch the procedure or loll about outside the curtained room as was my pleasure.  Dr. Hernandez was with us at the hospital and introduced us to our cardiologist, Dr. Salas and the test proceeded.  Regrettably, Michael refused to stress to the desired levels so they really couldn't get a good diagnostic view other than to see that the boy had some extremely funky (told you I'd spare you the medico talk) stuff going on cardiac-wise.

After a short confab, Dr. Salas said that they would do a Holter Monitor Test where Michael wears this monitor for 24 hours and they track his heart on three levels -- all of which escape me at the moment.  So,  two days later, monitor on.  One day later, monitor off.  Dr. Salas looks at the results.  Now what is interesting, is that while he is analyzing the results we are there and he is going over them explaining as he goes.  We realize that in every situation (both Seguro Popular and private) we are getting lots more information and much more opportunity to ask questions than we did in the States.  We also get to see Dr. Salas' photo of his son who was born the night before.  Very cute.   All said and done, Michael needs angioplasty.  In a hospital.  Overnight.  Great.  And we're going on a trip.  Soon.

Not a problem.  Dr. Hernandez talks to Dr. Salas and he says he can do the procedure the next day.  Once more, we review the hospital menu.  This time we go upscale.  We have our reasons that involve a brand new ICU and drive time.  Some reasons were better than others.  The angioplasty is scheduled for 5PM and we're told to be there by 4:15 which we are.  However, admissions is rather "relaxed" and they seem to be processing about one person per millennium.  Ever conscious of being the ugly Americans we wait.  But, being an American with that overwhelming fear of tardiness, at 4:45 I start making noise in my hideous Spanish and they admit us.

I kind of lose track of Michael as he goes to prepare and I go to our room. Oh, did I say room?  I meant suite.  Now, at this point, no one has discussed price with us, and as I take in the leather sofas in our living room and the two person Cantera-lined walk in shower, I begin to have heart palpitations of my own.  Oh well, it's only money and I do love him dearly.  I am impressed by the security on our floor.  There is a sliding glass door operable only by a magnetic key.  The security guard lets you in and out.  I ask for a key.  They smile and shake their heads NO.  Hmmm.

As I descend to the waiting area (no viewing angioplasty, thank God) I contemplate why I don't get a key.  Oh....they are not worried about some stray drug cartel person waltzing in and taking out the ward.  They are worried about dead beat patients going on the lam.  Interesting.  However, I don't have time to take offense because now it is after 5PM and my husband is lying on the table and I have to start my wifely duty of worrying.

Based on absolutely no factual data, I have decided that the procedure should not take more than one hour.  They are to start at 5:00 so should be done around 6:00.  No.  Nor at 6:30.  Now I'm really kicking in with the worry.  A passing nurse smiles and say all is "bueno".  At 7:00 I ask the next passer by how things are going in the O.R. and she tells me she doesn't know because she is the cleaning woman.  Everyone wears uniforms and it is confusing.  The security guard witnesses my growing agitation and says many comforting things that I don't understand.

Somewhere around 7:30 Dr. Hernandez finds me and lays out the results.  It appears that Michael has not been a compliant patient.  Oh, he laid still and stayed perfectly calm.  It was his body.  In Mexico, they do angioplasty the way they do in Europe (and I think are starting to do in the States).  They go in through the arm not the femoral artery in the groin.  Well, they went in Michael's left arm (closest to the suspected blockage) and his artery spasmed and collapsed.  But they had planned ahead and prepped the femoral area.  The femoral artery runs straight like the highway across Montana in most people.  Michael's runs like the cloverleafs on a California freeway.  Next plan.  Dr. Salas goes in through the right arm and manages to go from the completely opposite side to the area of suspected blockage.  But this all takes time.  And there is no blockage.  However, they now have a complete view of what is going on and see that Michael has been, due to high blood pressure, developing the wrong muscles.  Muscles in the arteries vs. the abs or pecs.  They will use medication to relax the arteries, increase the blood flow and deliver, once more, a near perfect Michael.

They serve up a walloping array of new medications which the nurse administers all at once that night.  I am sincerely hopeful that she has received orders to do so, but am not able to express myself that clearly. While all the Doctors spoke good to excellent English, the nurses didn't speak any English.  Inexplicably the woman who delivered meals spoke perfect English and I considered kidnapping her to serve as my translator.  She proved wily, however, and escaped.  By the next morning when Dr. Salas visits, Michael's blood pressure is perfect.  They run an EKG -- perfect.  No funny spikes or dips.  Bueno.

Leaving the hospital turned out to be the most grueling aspect of the sojourn.  It was fraught with procedures and forms (Mexico LOVES forms) that had to be completed and provided in a certain order at certain junctures.  I stumbled through in Spanish but it was a little trying.  And then you get to pay.  You'd better.  They hold one of you hostage until you do.  So here's the part you've all been waiting for.

Comparative Costs

Well, I know what it cost us.  But I decided to try to figure out what it would cost in the U.S.  Now, don't fault me.  The New York Times has been trying to figure out health costs in the States and they can't say for sure.  And they're professionals.  So, I'm giving you my best research results on U.S. costs.
All figures USD.

Chemically Induced Stress Test:
U.S.-- $2,000 -$4,000
Mexico -- $478

Holter Monitor Test
U.S. --$1,000- $2,500
Mexico -- $117
In my exhaustive research I came upon a site that discussed Holter Monitor tests for Boxers (dogs not athletes).  It only costs them about $250.00 in the U.S.

Angioplasty (Dr. and Hospital Costs)
U.S. -- California $44 -$145K, Seattle $60K, Tenn. $48K, Florida $56K, Oregon $54K -- I'm guessing an average of $55-56K
Mexico -- $9,120

Hospital Rooms
U.S. -- Semi-private $325, Private $995
Mexico -- Suite $232.70  (this was probably the most expensive hospital in Guadalajara)

Totals:
U.S. Average assuming a semi-private room -- a little over $60K
Mexico-- $9,351

The Mexican price includes all of the the "incidental" hospital costs included on the bill, including meals.

Conclusions:
*  We wish he never needed it (or waited until the exclusion ended, damn it) but we now know that we'll get top quality care and we can relax.
*  Having a doctor here is just completely different and we think so much better.  They give you their cell phone numbers.  They go with you for tests and to the hospital.  They tell you everything.  In part, they tell you because they are not afraid that you will sue them.  They are incredibly warm and open.
*  I need to learn better Spanish faster (although, God knows, I'm trying).  Michael needs to learn Spanish or I'm in deep trouble.
*  If you need a Holter Monitor test in the States go to a vet.

Well, this certainly is a departure from our normal blogs.  But all part of the experience.  Off today to the three day Tequila festival which is featuring many bizarre things including a 260 liter Vampiro cocktail (tequila, grapefruit soda and Chapala's famed Sangrita chaser) that they are preparing as a test run for the Guinness Book of World Records.   Less than a week before blast off to Tennessee, Boston and Maine.  It will be great to see everybody.  Take care.

Most of the photos for this blog were taken by Deirdre (for obvious reasons).

The entrance to the hospital with the gift shop on the left.

Looking out from the entrance.

The ante room of our suite at the hospital.

The hospital room. Note the leather sofa is as long as the bed.

The cantera stone shower.

Wardrobe & big flat screen TV in the room.

Dr. Santiago Hernandez, our primary physician.

Michael, back in the room, after his angioplasty.

Michael with Dr. Salas, his cardiologist.