I like simple.
Making things simple is one of my Super Powers (I can think of a man or two who would not agree but hey, that's okay) and a lot of what I do in my work: people come to me with a lumpy bag full of stories, background, thoughts, and confusion and for some reason, I am often able to see the running thread, sort through bits and pieces and tidy it up for easier digestion.
Which is one of the reasons I feel so comfortable in Mexico. A lot of things are simpler. Not always easier, but yes, simpler. Less fluff, less "in-between-ness," something more A to B.
A couple of weeks ago, I injured my right rib in a collision with a big hard paddleboard. The sun was shining, the water was warm, my kid was with me and I had better things to do than to stop life and whine about it. So I kept going, got back up, and two weeks later realized that maybe it was hurting more than I had admitted. It was time to go to the doctor.
A couple of WhatsApp messages later (this is how we make doctor's appointments over here) Lila and I walked into the small office for a consultation with the man my sister and I fondly refer to as "The Good Doctor."
I was there about 40 minutes, Lila's eyes fixed on me while the doctor navigated his way around her fluffy tail, my rib was thoroughly examined, many questions were asked and their answers recorded. It was decided that while I did not have a broken rib, I did have a lot of inflammation from the hit and that there was enough of a difference in the way both of my lungs sounded that I should walk over to the village hospital and ask for an X-ray. I was given a prescription for the inflammation and told to call him when I got out.
I paid my consultation fee (about $18), took Lila home, and a friend and I walked over to the hospital.
This is the local hospital and it is a government hospital. Read: fairly bare-bones, especially in comparison with some private hospitals in a neighboring city. But this was a simple procedure and worth not having to leave town.
We walked in, asked the lady at the front desk if I could please have an X-ray of my chest. She told us that I could indeed, asked for $13, and pointed to the X-ray area.
A while later I was ushered into the X-ray room, took my shirt off, held my breath, got dressed, and waited outside a bit longer.
The technician came out holding a large X-ray film in his hand, gave it to me and we were on our way to get a bite to eat across the street.
With the big black photo on the table next to the hot sauce, I called the doctor who said he would be right over to read the X-ray.
A few minutes later there he was, examining my X-ray in the mid-day sun on the sidewalk, telling me he saw nothing abnormal, and that he would check in with a specialist friend of his, just to be sure.
So yeah. That kind of stuff. Over and over again. In pharmacies, at the vet, at the grocery store, and in the street.
Kindness, Simplicity. And something else I can't quite put my finger on but really, really love.
SCARED OF THE SACRED