Goodbye Mexico!

I'm leaving Mexico after 15 years. We ended up retired here in 2007 after a couple years as full-time RVers. Bought our little casa, expanded it, added a guesthouse next door over the garage. We did spend large parts of the (very hot) summers back in Minnesota visiting the kids and grandkids, but they rarely came here.

It's atypical for an expat retirement: isolated neighborhood of gringos 10 miles north of a very poor, sleepy fishing village on the west coast of Sonora. Not much to do if you're not into fishing and beach/desert exploring. Which we were.

In 2007, we were among the youngest here. It started as a busy RV centric community. Frequent potlucks, fishing trips, happy hours, beachcombing, clamming. Ladies lunch out, thrift store shopping. 

The RV park closed. Our friends started dying. Some, like us, bought lots or homes here, more just quit coming. Nothing you couldn't foresee but it happened faster than I thought it would.

Ron and I have our own issues with health and aging. Upkeep on homes like these are a bit too physical for us. Having to hire help a lot more. Having to drive to Tucson for healthcare. 

Both Trump and Covid lost me most of my dwindling number of friends. 

I couldn't handle much more.

We bought a new manufactured home in Minnesota near the kids/grandkids/healthcare/services. Ron's taking me and the pets there to get us settled in, but he's not quite ready to call it quits here and plans to come back. Not me. 

There's not much I'll miss. Fresh shrimp, yes. No ice/snow, that desert and ocean smell, a couple of neighbors. But most everything else I loved has been gone for a while now.

I'll be sitting on my tiny porch during rainstorms muttering "Ah! We needed this."

New Manufactured Home. It will be light blue gray with black trim.

 Third World Problems: My cat Luther eats too much

So this asshole cat has become obsessed with his heretofore rationed canned food. He is free-fed kibble, and I've always tried really hard to buy his current favorite flavor. Plus he gets 1/2 can morning and evening of his favorite canned food (Friskies Pate).

Lately he's a Hobbit. Wants second breakfast, elevenses etc. Although his voice works just fine, he lets me know this by hooking a claw into my leg. Whereby he is scooped up and unceremoniously ejected out the front door. 

 

He's not obese, he's what my mom used to call me: wholesome. I can feel his ribs. Surprisingly heavy for his size. He's bulkier than a Russian Blue is supposed to be though.

 

During the winter, he's wanting to stay inside most nights, thinks it's too cold. This is Mexico, coldest it gets is mid-40s. Otherwise he's out all night, leaves me a mouse-butt on the doormat daily. Sleeps most of the day. 

 

So today I googled psychological vs. biological factors influencing cats' appetites. Felt really stupid doing it, but learned a lot.

Worms? No, he's wormed regularly here because of his mouse habit.

Depression? Maybe. WE all are due to Covid. Vets actually prescribe Prozac. Luther would be difficult to assess for this since he's always BEEN behaviorally anti-social, rude, mean, unapproachable, unappreciative, and a vicious bully to the dog.

Thyroid? Diabetes? Doubt it, he's not fat, not thirsty. Always reluctant to take pets to the local vet here: he's money-obsessed, tries to load you up on supplements, and has never once correctly diagnosed our problem. Also, I had to insert the needle to euthanize our last dog, he couldn't get it.

Luther's also not stupid. He DOES learn. The squirt pistol was hugely successful when I wanted him to use his voice (instead of his claws on the leather recliners) to say "Out, please!" I don't even have to squirt it any more, just pick it up. He now waits patiently until my coffee is brewing before he gets fed mornings, else he gets tossed outside. When I quarantined in the guesthouse next door last spring, there was a mouse-butt on THAT doormat the very first morning.

The canned food obsession is killing me. Can't buy it here, gotta bring it down from Tucson. He does frequently decide he doesn't like that kind any more, but has been hooked on this pate now for 3 months. The only non-kibble cat food they sell here are the pouches, but he only licks the gravy. If I run out of the pate, I buy the pouches but I have to puree it first and feel really resentful/angry doing it. His teeth look fine. 

 

Tempting to chalk it up to his general assholiness, but he's also changed his demeanor a tad. Wants to be near/next to/touching me. A lot. NOT cuddled, though. Just close. At first I thought that must signal the end of days for him, but it's been several months, so apparently not. And nobody else, just me. He still goes out of his way to rake Ron and Sofia when they walk by.

He IS older, 10 is probably old for an outdoor cat in Mexico. Neutered, vaccinated, dewormed, even gets that paste for hairballs.

Neither Luther or Sofia get people food. Ever. I once contributed to a dog's early demise through people food once, Jazzy our Rottencocker. Full-blown uncontrollable diabetes.

Maybe he needs a kitten? Nah, he'd probably eat it.

 

 

Covid-19

 Enitled: "believing oneself to be inherently deserving of privileges or special treatment."

So crazy how divisive this pandemic has become. Nothing in my lifetime has required such restrictive measures, measures our parents and grandparents endured in multiple during their lifetimes.

 

Thus, our acquired ease of comfort, plenty, and confidence of freedom have led to an expectation of non-interference of our intended paths. Rebellion when contradictions impede. A "How Dare You" mantra.

 

Some of our and our family/friend's chosen careers are contingent on the public's freedom to patronize those shops/services. When those freedoms are curtailed due to say, oh, a pandemic, the businesses fail. I get it. I was luckier than some with my chosen path: nurses were always essential. In retirement, I'm feeling fairly secure until Trump succeeds with completely destroying Social Security and the VA in favor of his rich supporters. Still, I've lived long enough. I feel so badly for those who own restaurants, bodegas, tiendas, bars. No trade, no income. Landlords. No jobs, no rent.

Cue the hue and cry to abolish the restrictions and trust the people to "Do The Right Thing".

Except they don't. No mask, because our constitution says I have freedom to choose. No social distancing, same reason. Many thousands more will die. 200,000 so far. 

Entitlement kills.

There are skilled neurosurgeons from third world countries starting over as orderlies here. Your lifestyle may well have to adapt/change. Kind of like the Jews in Germany, at least the ones who survived. Your restaurant closed? Lost your savings? Yep. Gotta move back home with the parents? Yep. No more health coverage without employment? Yep. Gee, if only there was a presidential candidate who would prevent those things. If Universal Health Care were a real thing...

People are chafing, angry, coming unglued at being restricted. Entitled. Scared, but not of the virus. Scared of change, scared of less. Entitled. Unwilling to bend, acquiesce, adapt. Entitled. SO uncomfortable with isolation, solitude, lack of contact. NEEDing others to complete themselves. Adamant that the government presumes to think it can control them. Ugly Americans. Entitled.

I've lost friends over this. Maybe some family, too. It's unknown if this will reverse with time, if/when normalcy returns. And I don't really care overmuch. I've learned way too much about these people.

Wear a mask. Stay home. Suck it up. Save lives. It's truly not that much to ask.

Really?

 

Kanga

Right after quarantining began, my single-minded husband decided he HAD to drive to California to pick up his new boat. So I moved into the guesthouse while he was gone, as I refused to get infected due to his stupidity.

Am truly loving living single. Quieter (he watches horrid westerns and CNN nearly 20 hours a day). Cleaner (he's a true pig). We visit each other a couple times a day, and text.

Luther is mostly here, and Sofia's still her Daddy's girl (but loves to visit because BISCUITS).

We take turns getting supplies from town when needed, probably once a week each.

After about a week here, I got stung by a scorpion in the middle of the night in bed, and have slept on the couch since. One quilt, one pillow, easier to scout for them there. The bed has too much bedding.

Found out I really CAN put that big water jug into the dispenser by myself, and hook up a propane bottle myself. I think I've lost weight, my underwear is looser. Only wear pajamas, so can't really tell. Mostly just snacks. Couple times a week I'll cook something and invite him to dinner.

With my Netflix, Acorn, Hulu, Amazon Prime, Britbox, and CBS all-access, I stay entertained.

Plus, now there's this: I have a new pet.

Note to self: If the cat wants to come inside after dark, first turn on the light and get your glasses.

 

Luther had a Kangaroo Rat in his mouth. Quite lively. He and I worked for 20 minutes trying to catch it, to no avail. Turns out they can climb brick walls. Luther leaves fresh mouse parts on the door mat every day, but has NEVER caught one in the house, plus google says Kanga is nocturnal, when Luther's out hunting.

Kanga stays under the kitchen or bathroom counter, but makes occasional appearances when I'm on the toilet or the couch. SO cute! Huge eyes, big cheeks, long tail with a plume on the end. I'm often up for a few of the wee hours, and leave the door open, hoping she'll run outside. But after 2 days, I was afraid she'd starve to death and die under the kitchen or bathroom counter, so now I feed her. She likes Ritz crackers and whole almonds. Mice don't starve in the other house, between Ron and the dog they can graze off what's dropped on the floor forever.

Today I opened a dresser drawer for fresh jammies, and she was there. Blinked a couple times, not alarmed. I was actually able to wrap her in a dish towel and was en route to the door when she wriggled out of it and leapt to the brick wall. Back under the dresser.

I put an almond under there. Wish she'd eat scorpions...

My Son

44 years ago today, I birthed this one.

I was 23 years old and knew nothing about anything. Had gone from my parents' house to marriage. And was 100% in love with BOTH Jons from the instant I saw them. I thought that was enough.

My childhood was stolen by a sex pervert grandfather and seriously messed-up monster of a mother. I felt I'd earned a do-over. Partying, drinking. Divorce, remarriage.

My son learned he was beloved, but somewhat secondary to my social life. He became self-sufficient. Learned to cook. Got quiet.

I did wise up and get sober, but it was too late, he was in high school. Brilliant mind, slightly skewed re: love, family, priorities, but nothing terminal. He sought and found love with a girl that gave him two of the most perfect children ever. While the marriage didn't last, the love for those kids has. Dylan and Nora have known nothing but acceptance, affirmation, and love from their dad. They got the best of all of us, but especially from Jon.

Happy birthday, Jon. You're a true mensch, absolutely loved, and a survivor.

Dos Palmas Life: My Truth

I've been asked often by people "up north" what it's like where we live. Some have only been to developed resorts or timeshares in Mexico, some had traveled around Mexico long ago. Most seem leery of the bad press. Kino Bay, Sonora, Mexico is a sleepy, poor fishing village, a 5 hour drive to Tucson.

Dos Palmas is the name of our small community 10 miles north of Kino Bay. It's a neighborhood of mostly retired Americans and Canadians, maybe 12 homes, a number of seasonal RVs, and assorted temporary workers. It's in a gorgeous valley between rocky hills, and about a mile uphill from the beach. Where the desert meets the sea.

The 2 palms are dead now

Upper Dos Palmas

Santa Rosa Estuary. Margot Wholey, photographer. Labels are mine.

 There's good fishing.

Les, Jim, Jaap, and Ron with Yellowtails

Ron and Don (and Calvin) with Yellowtails

Ron, Buddha, and Jack with a Grouper

We have electricity unless it rains, propane tanks for hot water and stoves. There's a water cistern at the top of the hill, gravity-fed by old PVC piping to the lots that haven't put in their own cisterns yet, and prone to frequent breakage. This year, the water is SWEET water, i.e. not salty, but we still use purchased bottled water for drinking.

Most homeowners have septic tanks, some have simple buried barrels with holes in them. For that reason I've never been tempted to grow my own tomatoes here...

The roads are dirt/sand and adequate, except annually after the hurricane season. Then you need 4WD or we have to pull you out.

After the rain

6 inch deep arroyo in driveway after the rain

There is no cell tower, therefore no cell phone service. REPEAT! NO CELL SERVICE. However, some of us have US satellite internet with cell phone plans that include wifi calling. Others use Magic Jack or Skype calling. Some just drive to the top of the hill until they get a cell signal, some can get a signal down on the beach. Some pirate other people's wifi. US satellite internet is unavailable for new owners unless someone dies or leaves. The newer US systems won't work here any more, and the Mexico satellite plans are prohibitively expensive. Some residents have satellite TV, either US DirecTV, DISH, or the Mexico Star satellite.


It's quiet here. If a car goes by, we hear it and see the dust cloud so we know where it's going. There's a gate that some want to keep closed to keep out riff-raff, but it's not locked so we do get riff-raff. And banditos, unless you have dogs and neighbors, are home, and don't leave pawnable items outside overnight.


We get along well. Some are joiners, some reclusive. Almost all are older, 65-80. We get together a few times a year for a bonfire, a birthday, a holiday feast. Some go out to eat regularly as a group. There are groups with frequent Happy Hour gatherings, shared dinners, or fishing trips. It can be a bit clique-ish. If you want to be hermit-like, you can be.

Big group at Pancho's

Girls' birthday lunch

The weather is mostly ideal, although summers are brutally hot and humid. But not very many are here summers, and we just stay inside in the AC. Winters are balmy-breezy days and cool nights. The dawns and sunsets are euphoric.

On my roof

We get bugs. NoSeeUms, scorpions, tarantulas, mosquitos, ticks, flies. Rattlesnakes galore. Mice. There are chemicals for most of those.

Tarantula on my couch

Ron, NoSeeUm bites

Sofia, snakebite

Ron, giant scorpion

The upkeep of owning a place in the sun is onerous at times. The sun rots plastic, paint, tires, and clotheslines. The blowing sand and coursing water re-routes our roads, yards, driveways.

We're too far from a hospital for emergency care. A heart attack or severe stroke is probably a deal-breaker here. 90 minutes away is state-of-the-art CIMA hospital in Hermosillo (affiliated with Baylor in Texas). There's an AED (defibrillator) on my enclosed porch. We do have a Red Cross clinic and ambulance available. IF they have gas in the rig...I took a neighbor to the clinic once. He needed IV fluids and I had to run to the drug store to buy the IV tubing and run it back.


Dos Palmas isn't for everyone. Nearly perfect for me, though. I have both internet and TV satellites, wifi calling through my ATT phone plan, my own water supply, a real septic tank, AC, dependable vehicles,  an ATV, a dog, and neighbors. I'm not a joiner, quite reclusive and quiet. I drink gin and watch the sunrises, sunsets, storm clouds. I have Netflix, Acorn, Hulu, Amazon, Britbox, and a craft room. We built a guesthouse for family who rarely-to-never visit. I go dust and vacuum it sometimes, and the bi-weekly poker game is played there.

Guesthouse above garage, left, my house right.

Poker game in my guesthouse

Kino locals appreciate our influx of trade, and are courteous and helpful. While largely poor (not enough work for them), they are hard workers and I employ several sporadically to regularly for jobs I don't want to do. We often get charged "gringo prices". Still far less than what we'd pay in the US. A very thorough hand car wash is $5. Inside, too.

Gas and diesel cost more. Produce is abundant and fresh, as is seafood. You can live pretty well here on only Social Security. Hermosillo has Costco, Walmart, Home Depot, everything.

Kino Bay has 2 parts, Old Kino and New Kino. Old Kino is older, poorer, livelier. Eateries and little bodegas every block, sometimes several. There are near-ghetto-like area on the edges without utilities. Starving street dogs, but better than it used to be: there's a vet that does spay/neuters with subsidized help through the Kino Bay Spay Neuter Association. There's an ATM inside the police station that usually works, and a couple at the gas station that sometimes do.

New Kino is a several mile swath of newer white homes, condos, and apartments along the bay. Several restaurants, a few beer stores and bodegas, and the Finisterra Marina at the end. Can be crowded on weekends.

New Kino

Club Deportivo is there, a membership club. From their website: "Club Deportivo offers Rescue One, the only 24/7 rescue service of its kind in Mexico. The club also offers a social life, connection, security and information." Lots of activities, desert golf course, full bar, lending library. Everything they have or do can be found here CLICK

Now for some more of MY truth.

Not fond of Club Deportivo generally. More clique-ish than even Dos Palmas, actually a bit snooty. I do the annual Halloween party (I usually win), donate pieces to their annual big art auction, and donate/use the library. I help in the kitchen only when forced to, as "Dos Palmas" usually puts on one breakfast and one dinner yearly. This last breakfast I got away with cutting up melons and making toast. My husband likes it for the fishing networking and the Friday night Happy Hours. I think it's pricey for what I get out of it ($100 per person annually), but do it to support the Rescue One marine rescue service.

I rarely go to New Kino. I usually need more than the few bodegas there stock. There's a back road to Old Kino that bypasses the beach and you can drive fast. Grocery shopping requires several shops. A few have butcher counters, some have more produce, shrimp and crab at the pier, beer and liquor at certain bodegas. We do have some gringo friends that live in New Kino, but we see them at restaurants/gatherings often enough. 

Things generally are way different this year. My husband fell and broke his hip last winter, and it apparently severed the nerves that make the leg work. Has to wear a leg brace, uses a cane, SHOULD use his walker but refuses, and he falls nearly daily. I'm shouldering a whole lot more than I used to, and have to rely on my friends here to help me with things. They're very kind. It was a perfect example of the medical care I was talking about earlier: way too much of an emergency to drive him 5 hours to Tucson. Drove him to Hermosillo, had a total hip replacement the next day. Had to pay $9000 US to get out. His VA insurance won't cover it because MEXICO. So consider that. Going to be looking at those "fly-you-out-of-there" plans.

It's become not a big deal to run up to Tucson overnight. VA doctor appointments nearly monthly. I order groceries online at Fry's for pickup. Don't even have to get out of the car. They have groceries here, but not diet tonic water, dog biscuits, decent hot dogs, Jif, real Ritz crackers, Folgers, paper plates, real canned corn, salted butter, pastrami, and dill pickles. Other than those, I've adapted to what's here. Oh, and the brand of cat food Luther likes THIS month...

I think a general truth for me is this: This place is perfect when newly retired and still able-bodied. Few more considerations with medical issues. Great for joiners or hermits. No snow. I couldn't do it without my satellite TV and internet. Or my friends.

Ron's weekend: "You'll fall and break a hip!"

Late Friday afternoon, Ron was preparing to drive to Los Angeles to pick up his new boat. He'd packed a bag. Filled his med box. Then went to clean out his truck.
While wrestling the newly-filled big propane tank out of the back, it rolled and knocked him off his feet and he fell out, landing on the gravel on his left hip.

I was over by the clothesline next door at the guesthouse. I didn't hear him calling for me, maybe 10 minutes. In the interim, Ron somehow managed to crawl over to the bottom of the roof stairs and sat there. When I came back, he said "I think I need your help".

He couldn't put any weight on his left leg. Didn't want to go to the hospital, wanted his recliner. Took us 45 minutes to get him there. Sat there an hour, pain worsening. Decided to go. I packed ME a few things, and we thought if they said it was broken we'd drive on up to Tucson to the VA. Stopped at Panchos where our friends were dining and arranged pet care in case we didn't come back.
The 90 minute drive to CIMA Hospital in Hermosillo was a nightmare, Ron moaning and writhing, wanting to stop and lie down. I refused, drove faster. It was full dark then. All I knew was he probably had sharp bone tearing up the meat in his hip, and was a prime candidate for embolism. Faster.

The ER there was efficient and  competent. XRays and Fentanyl. Enough English speakers to get the job done. Yes, he'd broken off the head of his femur, the thigh bone, the ball that fits into the hip socket. The orthopedic surgeon Dr. Javier Baidon Romano was called, came right in. He walked with a cane. Startled, I said "An orthopedic surgeon using a cane?" He laughed, explained a recent skiing accident, spiral fracture of his femur. A four hour drive to Tucson's VA was not an option.
Surgery was scheduled for Saturday at 1 PM, papers signed, and he was up in his room by 1 AM.

Mexico hospitals:

• You pay as you go. They wanted $7500 US before they'd admit him, stated that was just the low estimate for the ER, surgery, doctors, and the 3 days expected stay. I talked them into 1/2 that, hoping to get the VA to pony up before discharge.

• If the patient is elderly or a child, the family must be there 24/7. They don't have extraneous staffing like nursing assistants. I knew that before from friends' experiences. There's a couch in the room, rather firm cold vinyl. No extra pillow, no blanket. The cafeteria's only open 8 AM to 5 PM.

• Most of his nurses were men, all terrific. They'd let me run outside for a smoke, or get coffee from the cafeteria whenever I wanted. Once a nurse made me a cup of their instant coffee in their breakroom. I bought them a huge jar of Nescafe at Walmart.

The Fentanyl was keeping Ron's pain level to a dull roar. He was pitiful alternating with zonked. I slept maybe an hour on that couch. Karen and Jim Benson drove in and brought my laptop computer I didn't take time to pack up. My phone suddenly wouldn't dial toll numbers out of Mexico.

They took him down promptly at 12:45, the surgeon would call my cell when he was done, maybe 2-3 hours. I made a fast trip to Walmart and got a few things (gin, bottled Starbucks coffee, chips, and pistachios.) Used that time to assess our financial possibilities on the laptop. Notified the kids.

4 PM he was in recovery, they let me right in. No pain. All better. They'd placed a catheter in his spine for anesthesia, like an epidural for labor. He said he heard saws, grinding, a hammer. Doc said minimal blood loss and tearing occurred. Prosthetic hip:

I went to the cafeteria and ordered a burger and fries. Inedible. Not sure what that meat was. Fries slick with grease, limp. No salt anywhere. I ate Cheetos later.

Ron was brought up to his room at 6. Slept. And I slept maybe 5 hours off and on. I stole his blanket, he said he was hot, and used my rolled up hoodie for a pillow.

Sunday the surgeon came and personally got him up to walk with a walker. He held Ron's gown closed in back, walked him around the room. Can you imagine a US surgeon doing that? Still had the catheter in his spine, pumping anesthesia in. He had no feeling in his left leg/foot, and walking was slow. He slept in a recliner the rest of the day. And that day just crawled. SO slow, the passage of time when you just want to leave.

I ordered scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast from the cafeteria. Don't know what those eggs really were, inedible. Bacon was OK, and the toast and jelly were great. They brought Ron chicken soup for both lunch and dinner, but he never ate a thing. I ate one of the soups for dinner. It was OK, lots of zucchini in it.

They made Ron take a shower that evening. It took all the remaining strength and life out of him, totally exhausted him. The nurse stayed the whole time. Then he brought me towels and I took a shower too!

Monday morning, they took out Ron's IV. Discharge instructions were given, then they sent me to the business office. Total price for everything $9,000. Comped the parking.

(It's still unknown if the VA will cover this. Couldn't talk to anyone there til Monday of course, and the first woman at VA Choice said sure, it's covered. Vacationing in Mexico, accident, emergency, blahblah. Transferred me to their business office where they said it wasn't covered  because it's Mexico. Called the first woman back and got a different one. She's gonna work on it, will get back to us.)

AFTER I paid, they took out his spinal catheter and let us go. We stopped for beer and pain meds on the way. Friends met us at home to help Ron get inside. One friend had arranged to borrow a walker, raised toilet seat, bedside commode, and crutches from Club Deportivo's stash and had them all there already. Ron went straight to bed, and the dog (who never gets on the bed), jumped right up and wouldn't leave him.

Ron still hasn't eaten anything. Says he has a bad taste in his mouth he THINKS is from a forkful of those awful eggs he tried. I'm thinking maybe anesthesia. Very little to drink, just wants to sleep.Walking with the walker saps his strength utterly, gets all sweaty.

So. Impressions of emergency medical care in Mexico:

• Modern, efficient, clean but no frills. Very low cost compared to USA. A total hip replacement in the US is $65,000-80,000. I had to pay the prosthetic rep separately. He came to the room with a portable credit card machine. The doctors speak English. Most of the nurses speak some English, and with my minimal Spanish, there were no problems. There were no egos on display like you see with US doctors. Courteous, caring, they listen. The food there sucks. Bring your own food, pillow, blanket. Lots of restaurants and fast food nearby, but I could only leave long enough to smoke a cigarette and fix a gin/tonic out in my car.