So I've had the most awful case of hives the past couple of days. I have not slept, I just lay there and toss and turn and itch till the sun comes up. So I'd had enough, and since my mom's in town she convinced me to go to the hospital.

There's a really nice new hospital not far from the new house I'm living at, so we rolled down there. I was both optimistic and skeptical.

The optimism, because I had read really good things about Costa Rica's socialized healthcare, and how the doctors and treatment here are as good if not better than in the US. The lifespan in Costa Rica is supposedly longer than in the US too (kind of surprising considering every plant and animal here can kill you, it seems like!).

The pessimism though was because I met a guy last week who had just spend some time in said Hospital de Osa, having broken his hand on his buddy's face. The didn't bother to set the hand, apparently, just casted it. So his ring-finger knuckle was protruding out the back of his hand. He said it felt normal and he didn't have any problems, but it looked freaky. (Maybe that's karma for whacking one's buddy in a drunken stupor.)

So with both of those tidbits in mind, I headed to Urgencias.

Let me just say right off, despite the fact that no one there spoke English (initially), I would much rather have been in that emergency room than the ones I've been in in the USA.

The process was smooth and quick. I was seeing a doctor within 15 minutes. Maybe it's because there wasn't really much of a crowd, per se, but still. You show up at a US emergency room and unless you're painting their floor with your blood, you might sit and wait for 2 or 3 hours. At least that's been my experience the few times I've been admitted.

Of course, once in the actual hospital room, things were a little iffy. I was the only gringo in the place, and they were operating by committee – 5 or 6 nurses and doctors all gathered around me, with 1 or 2 doing all the work. And by work, I mean tying rubber bands around my arms, poking me with needles, cracking jokes. Wait, what?

Yeah. Somehow I got the feeling that they were trustworthy and only having fun with me because I was up for it. Hey, in my gringo spanish, I was trying to play along with their joviality.

Until they stuck me with a needle. That was all she wrote. I remember the doc making a joke about it being ok to fall asleep on the bed and suenos dulce (sweet dreams?) I think, I dunno. I asked for agua. They were like, agua, what do you think this is, a bed and breakfast? No, they were cool. They got me some. That helped.

But then they drew blood from my other arm, and it was one of those poke around for the wrist vein sort of ones. I think they were going to give me an IV. In fairness, I was swollen up like a latex glove water balloon, but still. Ouch. Not to mention the effect that had on my body.

Oddly enough, within like 3 minutes the swelling was all gone. I kept asking if the bed had electricity or something, coz my body, especially my hands, felt like they were plugged directly into a socket (or, more apropos for here, touching the showerhead in a hostel "suicide shower"). They thought I was loco, and couldn't believe how pale white my face had become. Kind of like the first time you see a true albino person, you don't want to stare, but it's just so unique looking. I guess that was me.

Anyway, long story short and cutting out more fun mini-dialogues with various nurses etc, I forbid them from sticking me anymore or giving me an IV. Really, how logical is that – you draw blood to take a blood test to determine the problem, but you're going to give an IV to solve the problem before the results come back? Pessimism was winning. I was wishing I'd just gone to the Farmacia and gotten some Benadryl and oatmeal (for an oatmeal bath, google says that's supposed to help hives).

The best part though was the doc who finally came in to tell me the results. That yeah, I had a rash but that the blood tests showed I had a parasite too, which was dangerous because it could affect the kidneys and liver etc. Hmmm, no bueno.

He wanted to give me the IV. Said it would be mas rapido. Since we were negotiating, I'm thinking, "ok, if it's fast and over with in a couple minutes, I guess that's better than a week of pills." So I asked how long?

FIVE DAYS.

Five days on an IV? lol. Not happening. Sorry doc, that's never going to happen. Can't you just give me something I can take orally, the nurses said the IV was the same as Benadryl anyway?

Apparently, negotiation with medical patients is common practice. When he saw I was adamant about a different solution, he spotted me a 7 day antibiotic, but said it wasn't his first choice, and I've have to sign saying that was the case. Done!

Now he wants more. Conceding the 5 day IV, he came at me with another approach, roughly translated, "ok, you can take that antibiotic orally for 7 days, IF you'll let me give you two injections in the butt right now."

Whoaa, what? But why, that doesn't make sense, you just said I could take pills. "Well, yes, but it will be much faster if we give you the injections."

Yeah, I'm catching on. No. No problema senior, me gusta despacio. Slow is juuuust fine.

We went back and forth on this. My mom was fully in my court of course, in terms of support, but in terms of the negotiation the doc was using her for leverage. Smart guy.  Didn't work. We even all joked at one point, that I liked to negotiate. The doc said I must be a businessman, so I should understand that this would be the best business decision (his way). I told him it's the business of my life, and I'm not taking an IV.

I finally won. Which feels weird to say, considering I was in the urgent care clinic hoping to get something to fix my medical condition, haha. But that negotiation took a while, and quite a few people came and went during the time.

Anyway, I finally got my wish and got an antihistamine which I guess helps hives (in theory) and then two other antibiotics to kill the parasite that is running amok in my system. All in pill form. ;-)

Here's the summation of it all though: I got quick care, mostly professional (I would rather have them enjoying their day and joking with me than being prick know-it-all doctors treating me with condecension and trying to get me to have a spinal tap after a 3 hour wait for pneumonia antibiotics), and the meds that will hopefully help, and all that was over and done with in oh, maybe an hour and a half?

Guess the cost.

No, it wasn't the $1200 that I got dinged for in the States.

$60.

Sixty bucks! Wow.

Now, I'm still not a fan of "socialized" anything, but you won't hear me complaining about the healthcare in Costa Rica. I'll leave the final verdict out until I see if I get better, but overall the experience, people, knowledge (si…?) and cost were pretty great.

I'm not opposed to a smile – even at my expense – when I'm feeling like crap. I'd rather have that than be made to feel like I'm imposing on some $300k a year doctor's email break.