My Easeful Experience with Cozumel Medical Care for a Foot Injury

It’s ridiculous that I have a sprained foot. It happened for no good reason.

I stepped on a big piece of mesh that had been used to cover our well. Not that anyone should be interested in this level of detail, but I have gone over and over in my mind to see if there is anything to be gleaned, so I might as well share the details.

We had a problem with pumping our water from the well to the tinaco on the roof, which turned out to be the result of leaves dropping down into the well through a hole in said mesh.

The electrista replaced the mesh after working on the problem, and cast this mesh aside in the yard (this is common - if you have work done that generates debris here, expect to dispose of it yourself).

Being the upcycling person that I am, I decided I could repurpose this big piece of mesh for something I already needed. I just wasn’t sure what. So I brought it around to birding HQ (what I’ve come to call this area of the patio in my head), intending to let its presence give me ideas for repurposing. We live on an island being tragically overrun by excessive waste and illegal dump sites. I try to avoid throwing things out that can be of use. And this kind of mesh is useful. I just know it.

I’m still not sure what for. (It’s not hoarding if it’s really useful, right? RIGHT??)

Anyway, I put it down on the patio at HQ. It sat there for a few days, low priority. It didn’t stand out and annoy me the way objects out of place in my peripheral vision might normally do, because it blended in with the floor.

So one morning - just a couple days before Wes’s birthday (July 11), in fact, I took my coffee outside to Birding HQ for what had become my normal routine. Hydrate, caffeinate, bird. Fill bird baths, water plants, check Substack, check and respond to WhatsApp. I like my morning routine. It’s one I’ve designed intentionally that makes use of biological science and spiritual truth - exposure to sunlight, nature, quiet, solitude, and gentle, nurturing, bodily movement that grounds me in the present and the place. Chatting with people I like gives me energy.

All was well in the moment. The sun shone and glinted off the leaves. The birds sung.

I wasn’t drinking.

I wasn’t on my phone.

I wasn’t angry, or distracted, or in my head too much, or any of the things that might normally render someone more prone to careless error leading to injury.

I was half a cup of coffee in, and I noticed something on the table that didn’t belong there. I got up to put it back where it belonged. I stepped on the mesh, which also didn’t belong, but which I didn’t notice.

Before I realized what was happening, my right foot slid forward like I was about to do a split (something I could never do), and my left knee hit the floor hard. I went all the way down with my left leg bent underneath me, the top of my foot pressed against the hard patio tiles, twisted under my body weight.

The pain was so intense and shocking that I couldn’t move for several minutes. I slowly, gradually rolled the weight of my body to the right and leaned on my right elbow to relieve the pressure from my foot. It took several minutes of deep breathing before I was able to extract my leg from under me.

I didn’t call for help. I knew Wes was knocked out and wouldn’t hear me. I didn’t see any point in upsetting the dogs, who were also inside sleeping. I waited until some of the initial sharp, splintering pain started to soften, and used my hammock to pull myself up to standing on my right foot.

Should I have gone to the doctor? Right then, on that day? Probably. But I have had sprains before (I used to teach salsa dancing) and they resolved with RICE (rest, ice, compression, elevation). I didn’t see any reason this should be different.

Plus, our birthdays.

Plus, money.

Plus, I have seen the insides of too many medical exam rooms this year.

Plus, I just have this terrible taste in my mouth leftover - even after four years here - of navigating miserable people and arduous policies and hostile, arrogant medical professionals in the US.

I really just didn’t want to deal with it. I was determined that it would heal on its own.

Except I didn’t sit my ass down. I carried a bucket of rainwater to the thirsty plants near the other side of the yard where the hose won’t reach. I dripped some water on my shoe. That caused my foot to slide forward and twist again while I was walking over the bumpy “lawn”. Torque. Eeeeshhhh. Pain.

I went to get something from the freezer and a slippery and sharp ice pack slid out, not fully secured. Having felt the particular blunt agony of dropping a hard ice pack on these very same sprained ligaments, I instinctively hopped back a few inches.

Hopped.

Using my toes.

It felt like something broke when I did that. It didn’t, but the precision of the pain - what felt like a singular nerve screaming to be heard - made me think I might have.

But I had too much to do.

And so a month later, laying in bed at night trying to ignore the throb, I decided to actually prioritize myself the way I would have advised anyone else to do.

I already knew the first answer was to stop putting weight on the foot, so we went to a medical supply store and I bought crutches and a boot. The young man actually took the time to wrap my foot with a fresh bandage, put the boot on for me, and show me how to use the crutches. He was beyond sweet and kind. It was a blessing. The crutches began to help immediately (though they hurt too, under my arms).

But after a few days, I got lazy about using the crutches for every little thing, because they are cumbersome and exhausting.

And the foot kept on hurting.

So, I decided to try a podiatrist.

I went, and it was good. He was very approachable, and called in his tech (who is also his brother!) to translate; we found that it was unnecessary, save a few medical terms. He found the origin of the injury (which I had been mistaken about, due to transferred pain). He sanitized, taped, and wrapped my foot and ankle. He gave me a cortisone shot and a prescription for a particular anti-inflammatory for ligaments. He was kind, straightforward, and took his time.

He told me to get X-rays, and I did. They came back normal - no fractures.

I go back Friday for a follow-up. My foot is already feeling better, and I can tell that the way he taped and wrapped it are keeping it in the position it needs to be in. I feel hopeful that within a few weeks, I’ll be walking normally again.

(P.S. I did also try red light therapy, Tiger Balm, magnesium, massage, and other natural support. None of these things were a replacement for letting the ligaments rest, immobile).

All in all, between the purchase of crutches and a boot, the doctor visit, the X-ray, and the medications, I spent approximately $450 USD. Not “cheap,” granted, but far more reasonable than anything in the US. I am incredibly grateful to be positioned to do this.

My experiences with medical care in the US have left me reluctant to pursue treatment, even still. I haven’t fully accepted how much more easeful it is to self-pay for decent care on Cozumel than it ever was to see a doctor using health insurance in the US. But the truth is, my reluctance to go to the doctor is a holdover from a former reality.

Here, I have almost never had to wait hours to see a doctor. Never, if I have an appointment.

The most substantive part of the experience is almost always the consultation. The time with the doctor, examining me, communicating, answering my questions. Doctors here often actually take my concerns into account, even modifying original recommendations in the face of new information. I only remember ONE doctor who behaved in the arrogant manner that is the US default - he was young and didn’t strike me as all that bright - overcompensation. He also required that he be paid in cash - not the best signal.

Otherwise, doctors have been respectful, caring, and generally provided effective care and good advice.

I pay at the cashier. It takes minutes.

I take the lab orders to the lab, give them my ID, they do the thing, I leave. They send me my results on WhatsApp. Secure? Not really. Do I care if anyone accesses my foot X-ray? I do not.

Again, this is private care, but let’s be honest: all health care in the US is private. And absolutely unaffordable.

Mexico’s public healthcare is a different animal altogether, and I have not used the IMSS, for a variety of reasons I may get into in the future, but the primary one being that the system is already under pressure.

For the time being, I am simply grateful to be treated humanely, quickly, and competently without complications.

The older I get, the more I value time, simplicity, mental space. In fact, I value it so much that I don’t want to write about the massive stress that dealing with the health insurance and care system in the US brought down on me in the past.

It’s the past.

I’m not going back.

And I’m looking forward to walking, dancing, and swimming around this island, pronto.

Share The Conscientious Emigrant by Conscientious Emigration™

Give a gift subscription

If you’re considering emigrating from the US with an intentional approach to your environmental, economic and cultural impacts, see our services, check out our client testimonials, or jump straight to booking a consult or package. NOTE THAT PAYING CLIENTS GET COMPED SUBSCRIPTIONS TO THIS PUB!

Book Consult

Book Package

© 2026 Silleck Consulting Services, LLC. All rights reserved. I don’t use AI to write. Ever.