Water, Air, and Medicine June 20, 2023
All of Mexico has been engulfed by a heat wave for almost two weeks. In the lowlands of Veracruz across the isthmus, daytime highs have recently reached 48 degrees C, almost 120 degrees F. Even Oaxaca de Juarez, at 5000 feet, is exceeding 90 degrees. At least in the thin dry air, evening temperatures cool down to below 60. If only the walls of our apartment did not radiate the infrared absorbed through the day.
Air quality suffers. Trash burning is common, many businesses burn tires to make bricks, and unregulated diesel exhaust from the stalled downtown traffic all combine to form a haze that settles in the valley. In the stifling heat, we end up spending days inside to avoid the muck and discomfort of walking the congested streets.
Water is another issue. At the moment, we have no drinking water, so I buy 5-gallon jugs of Agua Ciel from the local market and lug them up the three flights. The water guy, Francisco, works exceedingly hard, though he can not retain his rotating young crew, who quickly tire of the unrelenting hauls. So Francisco carries them all by himself, but this makes him late for essential deliveries. Plus, it is very hot, and the air quality is poor, and so on. Vane says the obvious solution is to buy more 20-L jugs for Francisco to fill, but I have been known to be blind to the obvious.
To aggravate matters, I picked up my first stomach bug in over a year, giving me my first experience with the Oaxaca medical “system.” After a few days with no relief, my first step was to acquire Ciprofloxin, which requires a prescription as it is an antibiotic. Many Mexican Farmacias have a small doctor’s office next-door for just this purpose, and we found one easily a few blocks away. There was no cost for the consultation but 100 pesos tip was gratefully accepted by the doctor.
Next came the matter of finding an IV electrolytic drip, as hydration was a real issue. For this, Vane found a nurse in the area willing to make a house visit. Her fee amounted to approximately $16, which is still more than the doctor charged. In this way, and so many others, the informal economy of Mexico becomes manifest. If you need drinking water, just find a guy. If you need a medical procedure, just find a guy, etc.
The next guy we found was a doctor who spoke English and could get at the root of my problem. Dr. Doudenum—no that’s not it—Dr. Alberto Zamacona Esparza has a nice office in a colonial home situated in the boutique district between el Llano and Jalatlaco, so I was not surprised by the comparative expensive 700 pesos consultation fee (still less than $40). But he a good man, quick to observe the odd features of his new patient.
“You look old for 61,” he says.
“How old are you?” I ask.
“72.”
He is right. I do look old. Five days of vomiting and diarrhea can do that to me.
Dr. Alberto Z has a fascinating history. He grew up in California, then moved to Kentucky for high school before attending college in Indiana. When he was drafted for Vietnam, he refused, echoing Muhammed Ali’s famous phrase, “I got no quarrel with the Vietcong.” Unlike Ali, Alberto was subsequently jailed. Soon after, he moved to Mexico and never returned. That was almost 50 years ago, and since 1994 he has practiced medicine in Oaxaca. He works no more than 15 hours a week, spends days with his grandchildren, and looks like he is 50 years old. His is a life well-lived.
“You seem anxious,” he says. “This can cause the very symptoms you are experiencing. You need to address this stress in your life.” Vane knows the solution: More nature, grand spacious nature. Once again, she is right. Just as air and water are essential, so too is earth. To underscore the point, the medicine man gives me a package of clay to eat.