ARGENTINA

CONTINENTAL DRIFTER
Surgery can be less painful (financially) abroad
by Elliott Hester

Gastroenteritis sidelined me for a few days in India. While jogging on an Australian beach, I suffered a bad ankle sprain. I’ve experienced food poisoning in French Polynesia, a bacterial infection in Spain, garden-variety aches and pains from Lithuania to Brazil. Due to luck and circumstance, my overseas maladies have been minor. But during a recent stay in Buenos Aires, circumstance caught up with me.

Here in Argentina’s bustling capital, the public buses, colectivos, slow down but don’t always stop before allowing passengers to disembark. The day after my first tango lesson, I leapt from a rolling colectivo and twisted my knee.

Within hours, the knee had swollen to nearly twice its normal size. It felt as though acid had been loaded into a syringe and injected through a hole in my knee cap. ¡Qué dolor!

With the help of a friend, I limped to Centro de Ortopedia y Traumatologia, a top-notch private facility in barrio Belgrano. For only 50 pesos ($16), an orthopedic specialist examined my knee. The doctor said I probably tore my meniscus. An MRI (Magnetic Resonance Imaging) exam would let us know for sure.

I hobbled to a diagnostic facility, submitted to the MRI, showed the results to three orthopedic surgeons. Each doctor delivered the same bad news. My meniscus suffered a significant tear. The lightning bolts of pain were caused by a piece of dislodged cartilage that partially “blocked” the knee, making it impossible to straighten my leg.
Arthroscopic surgery was my only alternative.

Therein lay a dilemma. My insurance company does not cover medical expenses in Argentina. If I returned to the United States, the company would pay 80% of the costs after I paid a $500 deductible. And yet, the low cost of medical care in Argentina (for anyone with U.S. dollars) made me consider having surgery here.

At Centro de Ortopedia, for example, I paid a grand total of $9.67 for two knee X-rays. The MRI set me back $102. Separate consultations by three different orthopedic surgeons cost a combined $80.

Dr. Tomas Vilaseca, a highly-recommended surgeon at Hospital Britanico, quoted $1,200 for the surgery. Hospital fees ($377), a pre-op electrocardiogram ($7) and blood tests ($19) would bring my total cash outlay to $1,794.

In the United States, arthroscopic knee surgery can cost as much as $5,000. An MRI ranges from about $500 to more than $2,000. (My mother recently had an MRI in Chicago. Her insurance covered almost all of the $2,400 price tag.)

Unfortunately, my insurance coverage is not as comprehensive as mom’s. My out-of-pocket costs for surgery-related expenses could tally more than $2,000. Add that to the cost of a round-trip flight from Buenos Aires to Chicago, plus a $900 forfeiture on the vacation apartment I rented, and the dollars begin to stack up.

Undergoing arthroscopic surgery in Argentina would save me time and money. The doctors here are as competent as their counterparts in the United States. Dr. Vilaseca, who performs the procedure several times each week, sealed the deal by outlining details in textbook English.

But before going under the arthroscope, I visited a public hospital. I was surprised to learn that Hospital Durán, like all public hospitals in Argentina, offers 24-hour emergency medical service at no charge. Even to foreigners. I was also surprised by conditions at the hospital.

There were gaping holes in some of the walls. Exposed pipes in a damaged ceiling. Patients stood in queues that seemed to go on forever. When I finally spoke with a hospital representative, she said I’d have to wait at least two months for an appointment to see a doctor.

Hospital Britanico, on the other hand, is private and therefore tidier and more efficient. Surgery was scheduled a few days after my request. On the big day, I was carted to the operating room 20 minutes ahead of schedule.

Virtually every hospital employee—administrators, nurses, orderlies, the anesthesiologist—treated me with a brand of warm professionalism that made me feel like family.

Dr. Vilaseca led the five-member surgical team. One by one, the doctors filed into the O.R., kissing one another on the cheek as is custom in Argentina. They gathered around as I lay on the operating table. Dr. Vilaseca’s English commentary rose above the Latin love songs drifting from a laptop computer.

I’d been given local anesthesia and opted to watch the surgery on a TV monitor. A tiny snake-like instrument poked through an incision, chewing away bits of my damaged meniscus. A second instrument shaved the rough edges. It was a fascinating 30-minute operation. Successful and completely painless.

Three weeks later I took my second tango lesson. I still can’t get the hang of Argentina’s signature dance. But the knee? It works just fine.

Next stop: Chicago

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