I am sick. I don't know what's wrong nor if what I have has an official name. Maybe they call it, "Ah-ha-now-you-can't-breathe-well-and-feel-like-you-are-going-to-die virus. I don't know. I will probably go to the doctor tomorrow if I am not feeling better.

Going to the doctor in Mexico is simply a delight. There are several reasons for my enchantment with going to Mexican doctors. One is that I can afford it. The best part, in fact, about going to the Mexican doctor is at the end of the visit when you have to pay less than $15.00 for an office call.

This is what you will hear your American doctor telling you,

"That will be all for today. Now be sure to pay your $150.00 DOLLAR office visit fee so you can help make the payment on my brand-new SUV. Be sure to take a look at it on your way back to your little rust bucket of a car. After all you are paying for it!"

You instead hear this from your Mexican doctor,

"That will be $150.00 PESOS (less than $15.00 USD). Oh thank you very much," the Mexican doctor tells you, "you are very kind."

Reason number two why I love going to the Mexican doctors is that, if you are a man, they do not ask you every single time to drop your pants to have a look at that worrisome prostate gland.

If you aren't a man then you have no idea of how obsessive the American medical community becomes about your prostate gland after you reach a certain age! After I hit 45-years old, each time I would go see the doctor, any doctor, they would always want to know when the last time I had my prostate gland looked at.

I would go to the doctor for:

A sore throat: "Oh, that red throat sure looks bad," the doctor would say, "but let's have a look at your prostate while you are here."

A cut finger requiring stitches: "There you go. That last stitch went in perfectly. Now strip off all your clothes, put on this gown, and I'll be right back."

An asthma attack: "Oh, oh, oh my God! The lungs sound fine but I think I hear something in your prostate gland. Quick, let's have a look!"

The neurologist slithers in:

"I think we need to look at your prostate."

"But doctor," you protest weakly, "I am here because my right leg has been numb for three months."

"Ah, yes. I think the prostate may be causing it. Bend over this table and let's have a go at it, shall we?"

American doctors will go to any means to get to have a look at your prostate. It is as though they win some sweepstakes for the most prostate glands they get to "have a look at." I just don't know!

The third reason I love going to the Mexican doctor is that they actually care about you. I am not making this up: They will call you at home, because they worry about your condition. If you are suppose to return to the doc for a follow-up visit and are one day late they call you to see if you are ok or what has happened to you. Can you even begin to fathom that?

When we came back from a Puerto Vallarta vacation, I contracted a jungle related rash. Don't ask me how. I was not swinging from disease carrying vines or rubbing up against something I should not have been. I just caught this hideous rash.

My Guanajuato doctor was treating me. It was rather a severe case and he got worried when I didn't return exactly on the 10th day he asked me to come back. So he called me up to see how I was doing.

I love Mexican doctors!