Spanish Medicine

This rant is technically a few days outdated, but last week was a rather busy week.

Last Tuesday, as I was finishing up the last hour of class with my first graders, cutting and decorating some shamrocks for St. Patrick's Day, my middle finger befell a tragic fate -- the extra skin around my phalanges was snipped off by a playful 6-yr-old.

After going to the school nurse (unlike most other Spanish schools, my school has one of these), she asked when I last had a tetanus vaccine. Since I stuttered for a bit, she took that to mean "quite a while" and suggested I get one. The following day, I set about securing said vaccine, and quite the adventure ensued.

I should have taken the difficulties in finding the doctor's office as a sign of what was to come. There were two buildings with the same number; I went through all five floors of the tall building with apartments trying to find the "Consultorio" or Doctor's Office. It was the building next door.

After arriving at the right place, I inquired about the vaccination. I had calld the day before asking to make an appointment, and I was informed that all that was necessary was to show up between 9 am and noon. It was about 10:30 am when I arrived, and the woman behind the desk asked if I'd brought the vaccine with me. Apparently, I was supposed to purchase the vaccine on my own; they were merely going to do me the favor of injecting me with it. After visits to three different pharmacies, I discovered that I could no longer purchase the tetanus vaccine without a prescription. And since I'm not a Spanish resident, and therefore unable to go to the public clinics, I had to call my insurance provider to ask where I could go for a vaccine.

Fourteen euros in pre-paid phone credit later, I was finally on my way to a different clinic in the posh area of town, where I was still going to pay out of pocket for my vaccine, since the vaccine against tetanus is "outside" the calendar of vaccinations. After arriving, paying my 9 euros, and getting shot in the left arm, I was finally on my way back to school, commuting one hour each way to spend a thrilling 90 minutes coloring some more.

Conclusion: Trying to get decent health care sucks, whether in the States or in Spain. In the former, you don't get decent health unless you have the money for an awesome insurance provider. On the contrary, in the latter, you don't get any attention if you're an outsider of any kind. Next time I need medical attention, I'll just throw myself in front of a bus and hope they figure out whether the private or public sector should cover me before I bleed to death.