Count Your Blessings - even the ones that are still available...

I saw a San Francisco Bay Area pilot friend pop up today on Facebook while I was reading online.  He was at our local airport, with another pilot I used to fly with (in jets occasionally!).  I called and reached him on his cell phone.  They flew here in a small privately owned jet to pick up and relocate to Kansas a smaller airplane that had been previously positioned here for service.  Here for too short a time for me to run out and visit, my friend departed in the smaller airplane, followed by the jet they arrived in, then after dropping off the small plane in Kansas, they presumably flew home to Northern California together.  

 

It was sort of ironic that this incident would happen today, as this very day I was intent on trying to be more content (at least for a while) with life as it exists here (for now).  So what if a primary  activity over several days is picking up sticks off the lawn, blown down from the sickly old tree in the back yard before I get around to mowing (eventually).  Or the sad fact the around eleven in the morning, I noticed his Facebook location post less than a minute after it appeared.

 

I used to fly trips with both of these guys - around California, Sun Valley, Idaho, Jackson Hole, Wyoming, etc.  Now I ride my bicycle to and from the gym, trying hard not to be depressed by the un-scenic repetitious route or unwelcome audio and video stimulus foisted on patrons at the health club.  And that's a highlight of my routine - gets me off my butt in front of the screen for minimal exercise.   

  

 I used to be a pretty good pilot.  I obtained the highest certificate available - Airline Transport - and had most of the advanced instructor ratings.  People respected me and I had many satisfying professional relationships.  Some of my associates and clients became close and lasting friends.

 

Prior to that, I had a long and mostly gratifying career as a photographer.  After working for others as an employee and learning the trade for a while, I built and operated my own studio and darkroom, and did a lot of assignment photography for diverse clients. 

 

 

During my time in aviation we bought a house on the East side of the San Francisco Bay that I liked very much, and did a number of things to make it better and more enjoyable.  Had a couple of great dogs there, and chickens that had names.  People came to visit.

 

While still in California, I began a career in information technology after tapering off then ending my eight years of  flying adventure.  It eventually paid well, and slowly I dug my way out of debt accumulated from the previous two fun but low-income careers and started saving aggressively for retirement.  It was during the boom times in the dot-com era.  Woo-hoo.

 

I began as a rather ignorant self-taught tech support assistant at a small company, then ascended over the next eight years of tech career to become a competent and respected senior engineer at a fast-growing company with global presence.  We had a margarita machine for special occasions, and occasional beery company meetings on Fridays.  I left after we were acquired by an East Coast tech giant, and I felt disrespected.  My inflated salary and platinum benefits were not sufficient.

 

Now I pick up sticks in the back yard, and ride my bike to the gym and the market.  I look at Facebook, and mismanage finances online.  I read a lot of disheartening news and weird things of questionable value from the vast Internet, but never seem to get caught up with the growing piles of books around the house that are supposed to offer useful insight or knowledge.  Most of my remaining friendships are tenuously maintained via email or social networking, and occasional phone calls. 


Occasionally I paint a respectable picture, and have developed decent skills over these long six years in Colorado as an artist.  The paintings are beginning to stack up on the floor against the baseboard in an extra bedroom, because the walls have no more space for hanging.  Hardly anyone ever sees them, unless I post photos online.  I say it doesn't matter what people think of them, or even if they are seen, but the truth is I crave feedback and recognition.  I don't know what I will do with them all eventually, which adds to my hesitation to create more.  I went to a art show in town once, at a gallery featuring a very talented, accomplished, and prolific painter friend.  He had stacks of beautiful work around the room that wouldn't fit on the walls.  No one was buying anything, and he wondered aloud what he would ever do with all this work.  He just wanted it all to go away somehow.  He did not seem very satisfied with his accomplishments as an artist, although they were considerable.
 

 

After picking up sticks and clumps of leaves for a while this afternoon, I noted the little 'Count your Blessings' etched rock given to me by a friend from California, lying on the garden bench where the Buddha rests.   I know I should be grateful for the ability to walk outside and bend over to pick up those sticks, feeling the warm breeze on my face.  But the counting often seems dominated by blessings that now seem out of reach, enjoyable only as memories.  If it is a blessing that life is seemingly easy now, the low quality is not so much.  I believe the message is that making an effort to be grateful is supposed to be therapeutic.  Look, there are more sticks to pick up!  As for hoping that there will once again be purposeful activity to engage in, I'm not sure whether such hope is a blessing or curse - so remote do the possibilities seem.  I seem to recall a Buddhist recommendation not to indulge in either hope or fear, in pursuit of a balanced life.

I ended this day with a trip to Old Town for weekly a Spanish conversation practice I participate in occasionally.  Old Town this time of year (any time actually, but especially in the Spring) is impossibly cute and charming.

 

I usually enjoy a walk through Old Town Square, the heart of Fort Collins downtown.  There are so many people out enjoying their surroundings, and there is no doubt that this is one the finest downtowns of any small American city.  Many of its features provided a model for Disneyland's old-timey Main Street.  But at times my discouragement over lack of purpose and absence of fulfillment here leaves me feeling like a curious specimen long removed from its natural environments and locked away in the stale dark airless interior of  an ornate and precious jewel box.

 

 

 

Cameras and Experiences

An acquaintance from Merida posted an interesting blog entry a few days ago about his experience going on a trip to Querétaro, and finding his camera had a dead battery and that he had left behind his spare and charger while packing.

It was a thought-provoking post for me me, as I am probably among the more obsessive photo-documentarian travelers.  I once worked professionally as a photographer, with assignments to visually highlight events and activities.  In part, I want to exercise a skill I possess.  Also, as an artist, I place great value in extracting obscure visual elements I find meaningful, and bringing them to the attention out of context for the appreciation of others who may not otherwise perceive or appreciate them as I did.

At Casa de las Ranas, San Miguel de Allende, 2012

So concerned am I that I may be deprived of my photographic involvement in my surroundings, that I travel with a spare camera, and insist on owning small simple cameras that use conventional AA batteries, available in the most humble tiendita.  I shoot only in the lowest web-suitable resolution, expecting that the value on my images (if any) will be ephemeral - they will be seen and appreciated (hopefully) when posted, then lost, except in my own archives, where they sometimes stir powerful memories as time passes.

Having said all that - I find his thoughts and those of his commenters on the potential interference of camera with experience to be entirely valid.  I do wonder at times if my seeking of photographic excerpts from activities in some way diminishes the overall experience.  However, it is possible that in some ways my photographic seeking is actually an enhancement, as my perception is heightened by my desire to identify and isolate visual elements.  Much of the way I relate to the world seems to be visual...



I often use my photography as a source for later painting efforts

More Medical Mexico

After I posted an entry a few weeks ago about the relative superiority of wellness and treatment opportunities in Mexico over the U.S., I received an email from an acquaintance who lives near Lake Chapala, and for whom this issue is among the primary motivations for his being there after sampling several location south of the U.S. border. I thought I would post a few of his comments here to temper my rather unqualified endorsement of Mexican healthcare...

"I wanted to offer a few thoughts prompted by your blog post on health care here vs. N.O.B. The first is that there's no question that access is infinitely better, and you almost invariably make your appointments directly with the doctor rather than being pawned off on a series of nurses, P.A.'s etc. before finally being granted 10 minutes with the harried doc as you describe in the U.S. 

On the downside, it's much more of a caveat emtpor situation than most gringos realize, by which I mean that you have no recourse in the case of doctor incompetence or error. More important, you need to know that there are many labs and clinics that lack what would be considered basic or modern diagnotistc equipment in the U.S., so it behooves one to know where to get an x-ray on machines made in the past few decades, which labs do tests without offering kick-backs to the referring doctor (there's only one at Lakeside!), etc. Still on balance the care here is far better, and of course infinitely cheaper. It's a good thing, because realistically if you live here as a gringo your best option is to self-insure, since IMSS is very close to going under, Seguro Popular is a mess and private insurance rates are sky-high due to the very small % of the population that can even think about participating."

I had meant to comment in my original post about the 'no recourse' issue.  Mexico in general seems to be almost entirely unencumbered by tort law - if you trip and break your ankle due to a sidewalk defect or gash your head on an A/C cage or metal awning protruding into a pedestrian right of way at (giant gringo) forehead level, you are on your own.  Apparently in the practice of medicine it is similarly not customary to follow up poor outcomes which might arguably be due to improper or inadequate care  with a trip to an attorney's office in pursuit of compensation.  I guess in balance I am in favor of this arrangement, as I imagine it is one of the primary reasons the cost is so low, and there is a reduced number of diagnostic and treatment options prescribed out of legal defensiveness.   I also have confidence that with reference checking most doctors can be trusted to perform to the best of their ability and meet contemporary standards of competency and best-practices.  Hope I am correct if I should need or want to try this out.  It's always possible for an error to occur, and the cost of making that the equivalent of bagging a Lotto jackpot is un-affordable care for many.

On the lab issue, I have always been amused that anyone can apparently walk into a retail lab and order their own blood work, urinalysis, ultrasound, or even x-rays without the benefit of a doctor's order.

Foster Family

Taking in foster dogs can be a complex activity.  It probably appears simple to the casual observer - a local rescue group arranges for the inbound transfer of surrendered or stray pets from a shelter (often out-of-state) that can't observe a no-kill policy due to over-population and under-adoption.  The rescue operation may or may not have any physical facilities, but depends on local foster homes willing to take in the rescued animals and care for them until they are adoptable - and adopted.

This care of course always includes the basics of survival, but also a variety other needs must be met.  I have always specialized in the adult females - often momma dogs recently seperated from puppies they were brought in with.  The puppies are easy to adopt out.  Their mommas, with saggy teats, often emaciated torsos and ratty fur, and various amounts of emotional baggage (just like us!) are not so immediately irresistible.  They are often timid or untrusting of human kindness and unfamiliar with good house manners.  In addition to physical rehabilitation, and possible medical care, the foster people must assess the current state of the dog (beyond what is known by the rescue crew and releasing shelter - usually not much) so they know what needs work, and what information to pass along to potential adopters.  Does she need confidence/trust building?  Know how to sit for a treat?  Wait to be taken outside to go potty?  Walk on a leash?  How will she react to the presence of other dogs?  Kids?  Men?  Women?  Riding in a car?  Is she a counter surfer (looking for snatchable food when unsupervised)?  Suffer from seperation anxiety?  Tolerate being in a crate?  Photos must be taken to show her at her best, to illustrate adoption listings on the Internet.

Lap time.

The current dog we are fostering represents the greatest challenge of all.  She is absolutely adorable, with almost no faults.  She is eager to show and receive affection, doesn't bark or smell funny, has fur like a sable or mink, seems gentle with all she encounters, and is just small enough to occupy a lap now and then (often accomplished by a flying leap).  She hangs out in her crate willingly, but shows ecstatic appreciation for walks and even visits to the back yard.  Or moving from one room to the other, following at the feet of her newly adored caretakers for that matter.

Her name is Annabelle, and she is among the best, sweetest nap dogs ever.  You really couldn't awake being nuzzled by a cuter beast, with her inviting belly waiting to be scratched. 

"How do you give them up?", people ask.  "I could never do that!", they say.  Well, it isn't easy.  Many who try fostering end up with 'failed fosters' they hadn't intended to adopt - it is a risk.  There have been at least a half dozen among the twenty we have fostered that had me agonizing over the prospect of releasing them to adoption homes.  And people often mistakenly think they are being helpful to suggest ecouragingly, "Oh, you should keep her!" What makes it tolerable, then?  Finding for them a better home than I could provide, generally.  I don't know at this point if I might work full time again, or relocate to another country for some period of time.  Such things are challenging enough for me at this point that in order for the coming changes to occur I feel I can't really afford the additional distraction and responsibility of being the permanent guardian of a dog that I am in love with.  I don't want to work full time leaving a dog home alone for ten hours at a time, and while others relocate internationally with their pets, I would probably experience too much anxiety about the process.  I also have a pretty poor track record of making wise choices about what to do with my life in recent years, leading to continual uncertainty.  If another family can provide a great space, stability, loving attention, one or more dog or child playmates, then I can feel that the benefits for the dog and the adopting family are multiplied, and my own ultimate reward is greater in surrendering to them the devotion and unconditional love that quickly develops and flows from these grateful fosters. 

I also hesitate to take on the lifelong commitment for maintaining the emotional and physical well-being of these innocent, dependent little beings.  I enjoyed the lifetime companionship of  two (dog) girls over twenty-five years, and I find myself going through a spell right now of wanting minimal responsibility.  There are also times when I feel barely up to the task emotionally of caring for myself, such is the power of post-mid-life angst these days, with all the uncertainty about the path forward and remorse over past mis-steps

So off little Annabelle will go tomorrow, hopefully to enjoy a fabulous life with her new family of two responsible adults and their four charming and dog-craving children.  They called, then came over to visit a few days ago and spent a considerable amount of time getting acquainted with Annabelle, who was but one of several dogs they checked out. "Who are the dog lovers?",  I asked the two older boys and two younger girls - I think all their hands shot up.  Their previous dog died in December, and they are ready to open their home and their hearts to little Annabelle, who clearly won them over from their first meeting.  It was wonderful to see how much the girls and boys (and parents) enjoyed interacting with her, and how well Annabelle recieved their attention.  I really appreciated how much thought and effort they put into the adoption process.  The kids are home-schooled, so there will be someone around the house most of the time.  With any luck at all they will collectively experience many years of the joyous experience enjoyed only by those who adopt these unique little creatures of mixed ancestry.

I know there are innumerable rescue dogs waiting for their chance at a better life if I can find the time and strength to continue repeating this process, and when the right time arrives, there will be a very special dog waiting for and needing me to share her life beyond foster care.

 

Health Care or Health Scare

While it might not seem directly related to my blog theme of the exploration of Mexican ex-pat life, health care is a poweful motivator and worrisome issue - especially for those who are early-retired and without some sort of sponsored or subsidised coverage.   I suspect a significant portion of the Mexican ex-pat population from the U.S. was influenced in their relocation choice by this issue.

For now, just a few links here that provide context so I can easily refer back to a single location for discussion of this topic.  Perhaps over time I'll come back and refine this reference.

My essential position:  We need single-payer health care like every other advanced western country on the planet.  They all get much better outcomes (like longer life span with better health) at a fraction of the cost of our current dismal U.S. system, where horrific high premiums go largely to wasteful things like tens of millions in executive salaries (within a single company) feeding into 30% or so overhead for billing, marketing, and administrative costs.  There is a national movement to make this happen.  The OECD has a good summary of our inferior current arrangement.  The Affordable Care Act (Obamacare) is a poor substitute for a national single-payer system.

A number of those leaving the U.S. for life in Mexico and elsewhere are in part seeking a better opportunity to maintain their health without ruinous expense.  In addition to affordability, the way care is accessed and the resultant process and outcomes can be vastly superior and more sensible.  Much fewer unwarranted tests and interventions, and a more humane interface to the system are likely.  Aversion to exposure to the crushing expense (for those with unsponsored, high deductible, or non-existent coverage) and byzantine processes of the U.S. system can keep U.S. residents from receiving early or preventive care that may be life-saving or prolonging.

If I have a health care concern here in the U.S., and would like to get in to see a doctor, it is likely a difficult thing to schedule, and there will be reams of paperwork on arrival.  It will likely cost hundreds of dollars no matter how small the complaint, and it will not be covered by my high-deduction overpriced policy.  I will expect to be under-served and treated badly by the staff, and assume the treatment I receive and outcome will probably be largely determined by profit and legal liability concerns of  the practioner's office.  If I see a doctor at all, it will probably be for five or ten minutes - just as likely I will be seen by a physician's assistant (but still billed a high dollar amount).  Weeks or months later, I will receive complex explanation of benefit paperwork (required to track my high deductible) from the insurance company that shows my ultimate charges by the doctor office.

In Mexico, if I had a concern, I would make an appointment (with a specialist M.D. if I thought it appropriate) probably for the same or next day, and the cost would be around $25, cash.  With a minimum of paperwork, I would see the doctor for maybe a half hour to an hour, while a proper assessment of my situation was accomplished.  At the conclusion of our appointment, the doctor would hand me a card with his or her cell phone number and an invitation to use it.  They would probably be available to visit my home for a followup if I did not feel well enough to return to their office later.  I would pay for this inexpensive visit out of pocket.  If a more serious condition was revealed, I might have to use either affordable private major medical insurance, or one of two very inexpexpensive national health care programs that are open to ex-pats.

Mexican hospitals and physician offices may appear to be modest, with plastic resin chairs in the waiting area and peeling or scuffed paint on the walls, while U.S. facilities often resemble lavish exotic resort hotels or spas.  I would rather pay for my care, rather than prestige facilties that establish and enhance an elite rarefied atmosphere for the U.S. un-wellness industry and its denizens.

If I had only a minor concern in a Mexican village or city, I might just go a nearby pharmacy clinic for three or four dollars and see a doctor for a few minutes, and walk away with a prescription medication (if indicated), although no actual prescription is required at the pharmacy counter for most medicines. 

Mexican pharmacy clinic - $30mxn equals about $2.50 USD 

For those willing to self-diagnose and medicate this no-prescription policy can be very helpful.  Years ago I experienced a minor problem with my eyelid a few times.  Treating it required a prescription anti-bacterial ointment used for several days.  In the U.S., I would have to make a $175 appointment with a doctor to have him (or his PA) look at the eye, then write the prescription.  Maybe another $20 to fill the prescription.  In Mexico, I would simply go to a pharmacy and buy over the counter for maybe $5-10.  I should note that one doctor wanted to do a fairly invasive surgical remedy, which I declined, and proved to be entirely unnecessary.

Finally, on another note, there is the issue of end-of-life care.  Perhaps a subject for another discussion, for now I will post a link to an excellent article.  I think it is reasonable to assume that Mexico would be instinctively, practically, and culturally more inclined to provide the more sensible and humane exit from an incurable or hopeless situation that many of us may one day have to deal with.

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Catching up this morning with a wonderful blog from rural San Miguel de Allende, this story grabbed me emotionally and triggered that level of sadness that only a story of dog suffering or passing seems to evoke.  I've lost several of my own, and we are a serial foster home for local rescue.

Chucha Comes Limping Home

One of my hesitations about relocation to Mexico is the alarm and dismay with which I regard the various callejeros (street dogs, or their more rural campo dog cousins) encountered in everyday life.  The challenges and deprivation they deal with is often evident from their appearance or behavior.

I recall earlier posts mentioning Chucha, and the affection I felt for her on reading them. This update is a sad closing chapter.  RIP old girl...  

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