I Thought Blue Cross/Blue Shield Would Be a Wise Choice . . . WRONG!

 

We had been in the country for a few months and had not really addressed the burning question of health insurance. There was so much advice from expats who had gone before us and we knew that once we were official residents of Costa Rica we would be eligible (and required) to participate in the official healthcare system the government provides to its citizens and residents; even temporary residents like us. Not only that, there was also a private system which we could buy into that would provide the North American type of healthcare with which we were familiar; cover anything, at any time, regardless.

We had met expats who were perfectly happy with the government system of healthcare and we had met those who were not happy with the government plan. One couple from the States had been in Costa Rica for more than ten years. I am sure they were hippies in the sixties though we didn’t confirm that. They bought a house after living for a few years in a rental property and set about remodeling the home to suit their needs. They were happy to use the government system and raved about the great care they had received and its low cost.

We met another couple from the States the same day who had also been in the country about the same amount of time. They had a vile opinion about the “socialized medicine” Costa Rica was offering and even though it was required that they pay into that system, they said they never used it preferring supplemental, private insurance so they would be able to have the kind of healthcare they were used to in the States.

Neither couple mentioned any special needs; they were just two couples with two choices and two diametrically different opinions.

We found another option called MediSmart. It is kind of a “healthcare club.”  You pay a fee which guarantees healthcare from highly qualified doctors at a discounted rate. Need bypass surgery? They provide it at a discount. Orthopedics, oncology, gynecology, pharmacy, lab work, a network of doctors and hospitals throughout the country. even veterinary medicine. Our cost—$162.71 per year!

Then we made a call to an insurance agent who advertises policies from several global providers. We bought our auto coverage through him, even though we also carried the mandatory coverage required through the National Insurance Agency.  

Dallas was happy with the coverage he offered her from Blue Cross/Blue Shield. They were our provider for years so we thought our experience with BC/BS might be advantageous. The agent also quoted a policy for me but since I was over sixty-five, I would be subject to pre-conditions and would need a "simple" health check. No problem, I thought. We scheduled the check-up for the following week.

I expected a checkup like the one given by my doctor when I turned sixty-five. BP, blood work, check box, easy-peasy.

Boy was I wrong. I was seen by a urologist, a cardiologist, a neurologist, and a GP.  I was stuck, prodded, poked, and stressed for much of the day. The result? Sure, they would cover me—with exclusions for everything for which I had been treated in the past! All for the full premium price—no discounts.

Thanks, but no thanks!

I rejected the coverage that was offered to me in favor of the one year out of country coverage my church pension plan provided and the MediSmart plan we purchased.

Once our application for residency is approved, we will both be eligible for the “socialized medicine” the government offers. When that rolls around, we will have a new episode to report. Until them we feel well protected by plans which we can afford.

You may be wondering about Medicare. Dallas does not yet qualify but I continue to pay into Medicare on a monthly basis even though I cannot receive any benefits unless those benefits are rendered Stateside. If I have a serious condition, I will be transported to the States for treatment if none is available in Costa Rice. I am counting on the fact that our life here is medically better than our life at home and we each will reap the benefits of clean pura vida living until the time comes for serious medical issues.

This may not have been your choice but we are both reasonably comfortable with our choices for the time being. Once Covid is in our memories and our residency in Costa Rica is established qualifying us for the Costa Rican form of "socialized medicine" our life will be better covered than it is now, but for the time-being we are fine.

In the meantime, we'll "take two aspirin."

We wrecked our car!

 

It promised to be a fun day.

Any day in which we get to leave our community development during a pandemic lockdown is a fun day. It was just going to be a provision run to WalMart in Escazu, a suburb of San Jose in the Central Valley. We also planned to pick-up the gas grill we had ordered from Aeropost. (That is another sad story I need to tell later.)

We were traveling with our friends Bradley and Ali. We had enjoyed a traditional Tico breakfast in Santa Marta where we found the best chorizo sausage; our rounds were complete and were heading home, passing through Puriscal when Bradley asked if we could stop at the veterinarian so he could get the travel papers for his dog Coco; Bradley is going back to the States and Coco needs her vaccination record.  We had taken our animals to the same vet so I knew where it was located.

After a quick detour from our regular route through town we were at the doctor’s corner office. I stopped in front of several parked cars in the curb lane and waited for Bradley to jump out. He adjusted is facemask, opened the door, and BANG, someone hit the door of our car just as Bradley was stepping out.

From the sound of crashing metal and broken glass, I expected the crunched rear passenger door to be lying in the street but when I turned to look everything on our car was fine—not a scratch!  The car that hit us had contacted the trailing edge of my door with his passenger-side rearview mirror. Glass littered the street and the mirror was flattened against the side of the blue Toyota Yaris.

The driver of the Yaris was already out of his vehicle, pacing the street, doing his best imitation of a righteously indignant macho Tico whose car had just been totaled by an old gringo hombre.

Seeing that there was minimal damage to his car, and no damage to ours, I maintained my composure as Ali (our native Spanish speaker) talked to the young driver. It was clear he thought he had the right-of-way to turn in front of me, and everything was my fault.

Ali took me aside and whispered, “he knows you are a gringo estadounidense (American) and wants you to give him some money.”  By now every car that passed through the 4-way stop was looking to see what was causing such a “massive” backup in the middle of town.

When we had rented cars in Costa Rica I had been told that you should never move your vehicle if there was an accident so I was ready to wait the couple hours I expected it would take for the Policia de Transito to come and sort this out. My adversary, a young man in his twenties with girlfriend in tow, was not anxious to wait around for the traffic cops. He saw an opportunity to score some dinero and take his car to some shade tree mechanic for cut rate under-the-table repairs.

Armed with Ali’s explanation of the situation I went into my act. I produced my insurance papers and indicated that he was to show me his. He had none. Then I shouted that he had in fact hit our car and I was not going to give him a dime. I knew he could not understand my inglés so I talked louder and waved my hands higher and looked to Ali for a suitably angry interpretation. Then I leaned on the hood of our car with arms crossed and told everyone that I was not moving and would wait all day for the Policia because he had hit me!

Seeing the opportunity to get cash from this gringo slipping away, the kid continued to pace the street and examine his broken mirror. In the midst of his anguish, I guess he decided it would be best to start negotiations with the Tico chick Ali, who could speak Spanish and might be more sympathetic with his situation. He could not have been more wrong.

After several “no, no, no’s” Ali told me he wanted 50,000 Colones to fix his damaged car. I told Ali, “tell him I will give him ten-thousand.” After several furtive glances our way I could see the kid was losing hope of a big payday. About that time, a friend of his arrived on the scene to check out the situation. Bradley and I decided now was the time to seal this deal and get out of town. Bradley gave me a ₡10,000 note, I added another for a total of ₡20,000 and I held it out to the kid. He looked at me, and then at his friend who emphatically said, “toma el dinero.” He took the money and everyone got in their cars and left. I figured he bought some mirrored glass and a tube of super-glue to replace the broken one and pocketed about half the money. 

That’s the way it is living in a foreign country. Sometimes you must be willing to play the game and stand up for yourself. But I must admit we felt a little like Butch and Sundance in a Bolivian Bank.