Crazy

No, I don't think I'm crazy, but my Mexican misadventure was crazy. Now that I'm back in the good old USA, I feel okay about telling my tale. It started off as not such a big deal and turned into a big mess.

Almost every night, the resort where I stayed put out beautiful, delicious buffets. I think I mentioned that. In addition to those options, there were several restaurants for guests who preferred to sit and be served a meal; on Saturday and Sunday, those restaurants were the only options. (These were included in the hotel package as well; the main difference was that they required "appropriate attire" and reservations. Because I was gone all day Saturday, I didn't have a chance to make a reservation. One of my Las Vegas compadres offered me her reservation (I may have mentioned that), but it was for the seafood restaurant which was closed on Saturday. I'm not sure how she had a reservation. Anyway, I spoke to the concierge and managed to get a last-minute reservation at the on-site Mexican restaurant. Something seemed a bit off with the shrimp cocktail, but I ate it. You'd think I'd have learned my lesson with that, but sometimes when you are trying a new cuisine, or trying it in a new region, the seasonings are different.

Within half an hour of leaving the restaurant, I started having serious gastric issues. I was up most of the night and knew I had food poisoning. I hoped it would be a mild case and I could get back to my vacation the next day -- no such luck. Food poisoning is not bad, but that wasn't the big problem. Twice as I passed through the lobby, the concierge (who had noticed I was feeling well and asked what was wrong) mentioned that if I wanted to see the hotel doctor, she could set it up for me. I said I'd wait and see if I got better or worse. I got worse. My thought was that I would get an anti-diahrrea medication and rest a bit, then be out and about again. So I went back to the lobby. The concierge was at lunch, but one of the desk agents called the doctor's office for me and said they were "ready for me right now." I was in the office in less than five minutes. The doctor had been "called away" (sorry, but I don't believe he or she was there less than five minutes prior), but the person at the desk -- a paramedic -- examined me. He said my blood pressure was 130/100, somewhat startling. He also said I needed to go to the hospital because there was no telling when the doctor would be back, and with my BP being so high and my lack of hydration because of the food poisoning, it would be best not to wait. "Don't worry," he said. "The ambulance doesn't cost anything and they will bring you back to the hotel."

Interestingly, my blood pressure was not nearly as high when the paramedics took it in the ambulance, and at the hospital it was normal. I was dehydrated, and at first the nurse told me I would be admitted. That's when I started to cry -- the first time. Just a little. I said, "Please try to treat me and hydrate me enough that I can go back to the hotel." Four hours later, after two bags of IV fluids and some IV stomach medication, I was deemed well enough to leave. The doctor had written prescriptions for six-to-eight medications, which he filled at the clinic, and I was escorted to the discharge desk. And this is where it gets bad. I was presented with a bill for more than $2000 US. I was incredulous. I asked if I could make a partial payment. Nope. So I said, "Just take back the medicine." So the clerk did exactly that, which brought my bill down to about $1046. I was not allowed to write a check or be billed for any portion of the bill, and while no one had a gun to my head or actually held me back, it was clear I would not be able to leave until I came up with a way to pay. The clerk asked if I had someone in the US who could pay the bill for me right then. Um, no. Thank God I had a credit card that had room enough for the charge. I was sobbing by this time, and I didn't care who saw me. I said something about how a lot of Mexicans think all Americans are just drowning in money, but that wasn't my situation. The doctor was very kind, and he saw what was going on and just gave me the two medications he thought I would need most. The entire situation was traumatic, and I'm not easily traumatized. To be sick and alone in another country, intimidated into paying for something I couldn't give back and not knowing whether I could, was rather terrifying. I was seriously concerned for my safety, and while I'm glad I was able to find a way to pay -- and the clerk said, "Just send the paperwork to your insurance company when you get back to the States" -- I certainly didn't have the resources to spare that money.

For now, I will leave it there. That's the first part of what happened. The second part, which I'll pick up tomorrow, has to do with my fight with hotel management.