The Doctor
I have private health insurance here in Brazil. It's a necessity since: A) I don't think I'm allowed to use the public single-payer system and B) With the exception of a few hospitals, the public system is widely regarded as deplorable.
(A quick note: This isn't a political piece. Although the parallels to the US's current state of healthcare seem clear, comparing the two countries is beyond apples and oranges. It's more like apples and umbrellas. US public healthcare will outperform Brazilian public care by lightyears, the same way that American schools, roads and government do. It's basically the reason for the World Cup protests you're seeing. Brazilians are sick of going to crumbling schools and hospitals while the government spends US $11,000,000,000 to put on a needless show.)
It was time for some blood work, so my private translator/fiancee called up my local provider and we made an appointment. Yesterday, we met with a Dr. So and So. He asked a bunch of questions, Dani translated and he typed info into his database.
When the news came out that Dani and I were to be wed in a few months, he asked if I wanted to get my sperm tested to see how our chances of reproduction look (Note: It's the first time a doctor has ever asked and it's probably time. Guys don't really talk about this, but basically all of us have no idea what hand we've been dealt in life.).
He asked if I wanted to give them a sample. I declined. Then he said something else. Something that Dani did not translate. There was a pause and then he went straight in with some rudimentary English, saying, "She can help you."
Good one, doc. Just what I'm looking for in a healthcare provider: a nefarious and completely inappropriate sense of humor. Dani was mortified. Not so much that he said it, but that he saw that she didn't want me to hear it and then went the extra mile to make sure I did.
He asked a few more questions, scheduled a follow up and then sent us on our way. I asked, "What about the blood? I thought I was giving them blood samples." The doc explained that I had to go to the hospital down the street the next day and do it. His office didn't have the necessary lab and they wanted me to go 10 hours without food before giving the sample.
So, this morning we went to the local hospital. It was pretty immaculate inside. We waited with the other blood and urine donors for about twenty minutes, in which time we heard a five year old in one of the exam rooms vocalizing through screams the same fear of needles that I'm sure half the adults in the waiting room had. I thought it was worth a chuckle.
A few minutes later, Joam Markee Day-vay-son was called and I surrendered the red. No money exchanged hands. Whenever the bill comes, I'm sure it will be minuscule or completely covered (Note: According to my healthcare company's pamphlet, a helicopter airlift runs about US $2).
Brazilian private healthcare looks to be on the same level as American healthcare at a fraction of the cost. I guess you just have to find the doctor with the better jokes.
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