I Went to the Doctor in Spain. The Cost? An Entire Mortgage Payment.

An American goes to the doctor — en España.

Photo by Markus Spiske on Unsplash

I’m never gonna financially recover from this.

— Joe Exotic, AKA the Tiger King

I went to the doctor here in Spain recently because of [REDACTED]. Like I’m gonna tell you specifically why. It’s not a big deal, okay? Sometimes people have medical problems for reasons outside — or possibly inside — their control. Who’s to say?

(No, I did not shove anything up my ass, thanks for asking.)

Anyway, I made my appointment on time by leisurely strolling from the parque — where I was reading about summoning demons in a fictional world — to the clinic in less than ten minutes. No line. Then I handed over my insurance card to one of the secretaries. She handed it and a numbered slip back to me.

For about five minutes, I continued reading about summoning demons in the waiting area while a granny studied my evil intentions. With a chime my number flicked on a screen. From there I almost proceeded to the wrong room, but someone gesticulated at me with zeal. I ended up in the right room… with a doctor wearing a lab coat. This subverted my expectations. I thought a series of three nurses were supposed to ask me the same questions repeatedly, phrased slightly differently as if I were being interrogated, while waiting thirty minutes in-between each perplexing encounter.

But no, a real, actual doctor sat before me.

What the fuck?

She listened to my concerns with empathy… also WTF. She wasn’t rushing — even more WTF — but quickly diagnosed the issue and determined that I was not a hypochondriac. Ha! I knew I was diseased! She wrote detailed instructions with some underlining for emphasis to circumvent my ignoring any critical detail, printed a couple of prescription orders, and gave all of that to me. While stuffing my backpack with these goodies, I asked her if I needed to stop by the front desk.

She shrugged: “¿Por qué?”

“No importa,” I said, and maniacally laughed in my own mind at every previous experience I’ve ever had in the ludicrously expensive and objectively godawful American healthcare “system.” I hope to never experience it again. For the rest of my life. To my fellow Americans, just send this blog post to your local congressperson and I’m sure they’ll start representing your interests immediately. Maybe your ticket will get prioritized if you throw some dinero at the Venmo for their super PAC or something.

Now, at this point you’re probably wondering, “Wait a second, you smug piece of shit, the title of this post indicates you put down an entire mortgage payment to go to the doctor in Spain. Are you going to address that?”

Just have some patience, okay? We’re getting there. Everybody always wants instant gratification, but I like mine in suspense so I can savor it.

Continuing on, I did not stop by the front desk. Instead, I held a door open for someone with mobility challenges. This person smiled and thanked me, and, with all of the sincerity you’ve come to expect, I said to her, “de nada, de nada” in a sweetly soft tone. I exited the clinic with a huge grin on my face, scaring several people in the bar across the street. Then I walked — yes, walking is possible where I live and not illegal — to the pharmacy a few blocks away. Haha, yes.

And no, nobody needed to call a specific pharmacy to fill the prescription in maybe one to six hours. No drive-thru where you wait an hour for the operator of the vehicle in front of you to wake up from a nap or whatever the hell they’re doing in there. That’s not how it works here. The “free market” doesn’t get to enshittify every corner of life in this country, hence why I could just arbitrarily choose a random pharmacy, of several, that I’ve wandered by countless times. No call ahead. No appointment.

I walked into one particular pharmacy and was instantly greeted by a pharmacist or technician of some kind. “Un momento, por favor” and I withdrew my prescription orders from my backpack. The pharmacy person kindly took the orders and located a couple of boxes with the exact prescriptions I needed. Grand total for my prescriptions? 5,47 €.

Eso no es nada.

So if I paid almost nothing for this, what’s with the title of the post? A mortgage payment is a lot of money, far more than five or six euros.

For 1,900 € annually, ballparking to a Chicago suburbs mortgage payment, my wife and I are both (not each — both) covered with fancy private insurance here in Spain. Fancy in this context means: no co-pays; international coverage in case of travel; includes dental; etc. We’re relatively young-ish in the grand spectrum of adulthood, so some of you might be wondering why we don’t have cheaper(!) insurance. In fact, you can find plans much closer to 1,000 € per year for a couple. It’s possible!

Regarding our “expensive” insurance, we’re not exactly experts at the living-in-Spain thing. But there’s another matter: when you move here like we did, having fancy private insurance is a requirement for residency, at least for a year. This is interpreted differently depending on the region and who exactly processes the residency application. I’ve heard some applicants fulfill the requirement by monthly payments with a year-long contract… somehow.

I’ve gotten the impression, however, that the insurance (with the aformentioned characteristics and others) needs to be paid in full for a year. When we applied for residency, proof of payment for this sort of insurance was explicitly requested. Seems kinda important.

I’m not a lawyer: Nothing I say is professional legal advice, if the colorful words scattered throughout this blog are any indication whatsoever. Consult an immigration lawyer when immigrating to places. Those, too, can be very affordable in Spain.

At the end of the day, our medical costs have been significantly cheaper here than they averaged for an equivalent duration in the US. Our medical bills were bonkers even as young, relatively healthy people. I pumped iron at the gym all of the time, paying an arm and a leg, just to be healthy. There’s no bare-minimum tax deduction, credit, or voucher for trying to be healthy in my home country. Health is an individualistic privilege that costs even more money.

All things health and wellness are significantly cheaper here in Spain. I don’t even need a gym membership anymore, because I constantly walk around outside. By the way, at the same park where I study demonology, there’s galvanized exercise equipment freely available for anyone to use. And people use it.

Within walking distance of our apartment, there are — amid clinics and pharmacies — steps, trails, hills, and free exercise equipment in abundance. We’re surrounded by Spaniards who spend too much time in the sun, inhale more than the recommended serving size of diesel fumes, drink like sailors, smoke frequently, and yet: they seem happier, healthier, and far more well-adjusted than the average American.

Imagine… just imagine going to a grocery store without a man looking at you like he’s going to kill you, for literally no reason. In America, I experienced that all of the time. In Spain, at least, they have good reasons when they look at me like they want to kill me…

Lastly, affordability is relative. I’ve met many Spaniards who hustle in order to survive. It’s not a panacea, although having one of the most efficient healthcare systems in the world mollifies hardship, from what I can tell. It just so happens that public universal healthcare is popular here (and elsewhere) — because it works quite well. Despite premiums being manageable at 2–3% of the median income, most Spaniards skip complementary or supplementary private insurance.

I’ve yet to find the basis in reality for the talking points against universal healthcare that I was subjected to in my home country. Here, and in many other places, the socialized system does not exclude private options. And somehow, despite being highly regulated and arguably niche, the private insurance companies here still make enough money to justify their existence. Hmm, seems like a free-er market for individuals than massive corporations paying off politicians while denying any possible claim.

Reese here from Bebop Libre: Think you should get that checked out? Weird moles, brain worms, waking at odd hours of the night to announce the exact time and promptly fall back asleep, skin turning blue from consuming too much colloidal silver, whatever. In Spain, you might be able to afford treatments for such maladies. But this newsletter is affordable anywhere. It’s free. SUBSCRIBE TODAY!