Adventures in health care

In my short time as an international traveler, I’ve quickly learned how important it is to travel with medicine, or at least have a basic knowledge of any possible condition that may arise while traveling.

While en route to Buenos Aires, Argentina, my ears “popped” on the plane from the change in air pressure, which, for me, often results in severe ear infections.

Sure enough, as we were about to land, I was doubled over in pain and holding my right ear.

By the time we were on the connecting flight to Corrientes Capital, the passenger sitting next to me politely asked me if I was going to be sick. I assured him that I was not going to get sick, but I think that would have been better than the journey that I was about to embark on in Argentine healthcare.

When I we finally landed and I met my host family at the airport the excitement temporarily distracted me from the severe pain as I hugged and kissed my host mother, brothers, sister, grandma, and aunt.

In Argentina, everything is a family affair.

As we all crowded into a taxi (we had to move to a bigger one because my luggage wouldn’t fit in the first) I quickly explained in basic Spanish that my ear hurt.

Later that night, when I explained that the motion sickness medicine my mother had given me did not help with the pain, she quickly closed her furniture shop, took me by the arm, and set out in search of the nearest doctor.

Unfortunately, in Corrientes, the doctors only work three and a half hours a day, so at 10 p.m. at night, the doctor was long gone. However, my host mother had many other resources and quickly called every friend, family member, and acquaintance who could possibly help me.

In less than 10 minutes, a deliveryman showed up with eardrops and greetings from my host aunt—I guess news travels very fast around here.

The eardrops helped with the pain, but I could no longer hear out of my right ear and I explained that it felt like it was filled with water.

The next day, my host sister took me to the ear, nose, and throat doctor of Corrientes. As the doctor asked me what my symptoms were I stared at him blankly and looked to my host sister for help. It was difficult enough to explain what was wrong in English, let alone in another language. My host sister described my basic symptoms and he began poking and prodding me with different instruments, asking “Si o no dolor?” (yes or no pain?)

He eventually determined that I had a respiratory problem, which explains why I often have bad experiences flying, and he ordered me medicine and an inyección (in-jec-cion).

I may not know much Spanish but I easily understood what inyección meant: a shot.

Two days later, my host sister and I walked to the pharmacy where I was to get the inyección. The pharmacy was crowded and after we took a number the pharmacist told us that about forty people were ahead of us. My host sister and I did not want to wait that long, so after batting our eyelashes a few times at the pharmacist at the counter, we just happened to be next in line.

A female pharmacist led me into a tiny room that looked more like a holding area for cattle than a doctor’s office. She then began speaking very fast and the only word I understood was pantelones, so I knew where the inyección was going to be. 

Although I have traveler’s insurance, my host family insisted on paying for everything—the doctor visit, the pills, and the inyección. My host sister later explained the healthcare system of Argentina and while I don’t think it is exactly universal healthcare, she said some medicines are free and everyone who needs help receives it.

I was relieved when the inyección was over; my hearing eventually returned and my host family later joked that I would get another inyección if I misbehaved.

Needless to say, I have since been on my best behavior.

Back