Doctor Doctor

Before I moved here I wondered, what would going to the doctor in South Africa be like? What if I became seriously ill? Could doctors in Joburg successfully treat me? What if they couldn't properly diagnose me until it was too late? 

I know some expats who have their annual physicals when they make visits back home. But live away from home long enough and eventually you will need to see a doctor. And, if like me, you actually look forward to getting your teeth cleaned every six months then you will certainly need to see a dentist or a hygienist while you are living away. 

Fortunately throughout our stay in South Africa, Mr. Deep and I have remained healthy. However, I counted the number of receipts that we have for doctor visits and combined Mr. Deep and I (although mostly Mr. Deep) have visited doctors and dentists 35 times in less than 22 months! I know what you're thinking, that it's amazing that we were able to squeeze in any travel or safaris given the significant amount of time we are spending receiving medical attention. Mr. Deep asked that I clarify and tell you that most of these visits are for physical therapy or as it's called here biokinetics.

The first time I visited a doctor in Joburg I completely over complicated the situation. It was April of 2015, two months after we arrived. I had been feeling sick with a stomach bug and despite my best efforts to treat the illness with ginger ale and tums, I wasn't getting any better. 

Upon arrival I checked in with the receptionist. She told me the name of the doctor I'd be seeing and said I could "go through." Coming through or going through is South African terminology for "go on in." What I wasn't sure of was did she mean go and wait in the waiting room or go right in and see the doctor? Maybe I was delirious from sickness but I decided that she must mean that I should go directly in to see the doctor. 

I walked down the corridor and found the door with the doctor's name on it. It was slightly ajar so I entered the office. The doctor seemed a little surprised to see me. I explained that I wasn't sure if the receptionist meant that I should go right to his office or not (although it was becoming clear not.) He said that usually, and by usually I think he meant always, patients wait in the waiting room until they are called. I am sure he was wondering where in the world I was from where it's normal for patients to barge in to see the doctor. He was really nice about it though and proceeded with my appointment rather than sending me back to the waiting room. 

Overall I have found the medical system here to be quite good. While I don't know if the care I am getting is any better or worse than what I would be receiving back in the U.S., there are certain aspects here that are definitely better.

First, the wait times are very short. In South Africa I don't think I've waited to see a doctor for longer than 15 minutes. In the past I have waited over two hours even with a scheduled appointment.

Second, it's easy to get an appointment. If I were to call my doctor's office right now, they would ask me if I wanted an appointment today. I would not have to beg or cough dramatically into the phone in order to be seen. In the U.S. if I were to call a doctor today and ask for an appointment, I would be given the earliest available appointment which would be in March, 2017.  

Third, the doctors here are not afraid to prescribe drugs. Some people think this is a bad thing, but if I am feeling poorly enough to visit the doctor then I am looking for fast relief in the form of tablets. 

Fourth, results are given quickly. When I had annual blood work, I was called with the results the next day. When I needed a chest x-ray for my visa I got the films right away. When I had a mammogram the results were provided to me before I left the hospital.

For a year Mr. Deep and I paid for all of our medical expenses in cash. While visiting private doctors is sadly cost prohibitive for a majority of people in this country, to us the visits often cost less than our co-pay would back home. Although we were aware that we had some type of insurance for expats neither of us researched the matter. I am sure that this task was supposed to be handled by the Ops team, but it wasn't and eventually Mr. Deep got tired of seeing money fly out the window and requested that I submit the paid invoices to insurance to see if we might be reimbursed for any of our expenses.  

He handed me a stack of invoices and gave me the Cigna Global Health Benefits log in information. Of course I procrastinated the project for a while as I was busy with other things. Finally, I sat down to complete my assignment. The whole process was quite simple and straightforward. In fact, the only challenge I had was that in order to successfully submit photos of the paid invoices I had to install a "photo shrinker" app on my phone. Once that was done, I was able to quickly submit each claim.

The process for submitting claims via Cigna Global Health Benefits is as follows. First, register on the website (have your Cigna ID card handy for this.) Next, enter banking details for what is called ePayment Plus to allow reimbursement to be deposited directly into your bank account. After selecting which family member you are filing on behalf of, type a few sentences explaining the diagnosis/symptoms. For example, "visit to doctor for stomach illness" or "biokinetics for knee pain." Next, from a drop down menu choose the country where the expense was incurred. Upload a photo of the invoice you paid (remember you may need to shrink the size of the photo first as it must be less than 6mb.) Finally, agree to the terms and submit the claim. The whole process takes about 15 seconds.

As I submit claims Mr. Deep receives three emails from Cigna. The first, when a claim is submitted, the second when we are reimbursed for an expense, and the third when a new explanation of benefits has been posted to the website for our viewing. There is also an app called the Cigna Envoy App that can be downloaded to track claims but I have yet to try it.

A few days after I completed my claim submissions a miraculous thing happened and we started receiving payments from Cigna into our bank account. Nothing (not even birds) makes Mr. Deep happier than money appearing into his bank account.  

This post was sponsored by Cigna Global Health Benefits. All opinions expressed and experiences shared are my own.

Sunday in Soweto

"If you can't be an athlete, be an athletic supporter." 

- Principal McGee, Grease. 

On Sunday, Mr. Deep successfully ran and completed the Soweto Marathon. For those who don't know, a marathon is 26.2 miles/42 kilometers.  This is an extraordinary achievement and I am very proud of Mr. Deep not just for completing such a difficult physical event but also for the amount of training he has put in over the past months. He truly committed himself to this endeavor.

This post isn't about Mr. Deep's race though. Instead it's about my experiences spending a good part of the morning on my own in Soweto as a race spectator.

I have written posts about Soweto before but as a quick refresher, Soweto stands for South West Township. Blacks were forced to live in townships during the apartheid era and Soweto is the most densely populated black residential area in the country. Parts of Soweto look like a middle class neighborhood but other areas are informal settlements filled with shacks. Soweto is rich in history. Both Nelson Mandela and Desmond Tutu lived in Soweto and the Soweto uprising of 1976 was a major event which garnered the attention of the world and led to increased sanctions and pressure on the apartheid government to change its ways. Although clearly it took a while.

On Friday evening, before the race Mr. Deep and I decided that on Saturday we would review the course route and come up with my spectator plan. On Saturday, Mr. Deep emailed me a course map (from the other room) and suggested that I, "figure out where I was going to be."

I would rather it had been a collaborative process. But Mr. Deep was obviously feeling stressed about the race and he didn't seem to want any part in the development of my plan. I thought about pushing the issue but decided not to. I think running a marathon is kind of like going in for surgery. No one who is going in for surgery is too concerned with the plans of those around them. You would not ask someone who was going in for surgery, "hey, where do you think I should eat lunch tomorrow while you are under the knife?" Or, "what time do you think you'll be finished? I have plans in the evening." So I left it alone and tried to come up with a plan on my own. To make matters worse, I was also given the world's worst map, one with a lot of missing street names.

I do realize there are plenty of wives who would say to their husbands, "have a great race and I'll see you when you get home." I also know there are a lot of expat wives (and South African wives for that matter) who would tell their husbands "sorry but I'm not cruising around Soweto by myself."  But I decided to suck it up and figure it out. This is the kind of relationship that Mr. Deep and I have. When one asks the other to do something, the person who was asked is supposed to do it...with a smile. This would be a good time to mention that following 9/11 Mr. Deep rented the last car in Houston and drove non-stop all the way to Minneapolis to rescue me and then he drove us home to New York. 

When I looked at the race website to see if there was any kind of information for spectators I couldn't find anything. Finally, I found a section about friends and family in the FAQ section. Only it wasn't very helpful.

The race began at the ungodly hour of 6:00 a.m and so we had to leave the house by 4:30. Unfortunately even 4:30 was not quite early enough because as we got close to Soweto the traffic was horrible as thousands of runners were trying to get to FNB Stadium for the start of the race. If you are a devoted fan and long time reader of my blog, you might enjoy the irony of the fact that the race began at FNB Stadium. 

We sat in traffic, barely moving, for about 45 minutes. Finally, Mr. Deep was running out of time and he got out of the car to walk to the start. Of course, as soon as he got out of the car the traffic started moving. He got back in the car and I was able to drop him off him pretty close to the stadium. I then continued on my way to the first point where I planned to stop and watch the race.

Walking to start.

I decided my first stop would be about 4-5 miles into the race. The map was so bad that I can't even tell you exactly what mile marker it was. I chose the location because it was near a big hospital, named after Chris Hani that I had passed on a tour once. I figured that A) a hospital is a safe place to be and even if it's not safe if something happens to you you're already at the hospital and B) a hospital has parking. 

But I guess I forgot that I was in South Africa because while the hospital had parking it also had massive security and a gate with guards so it wasn't like I could just drive right in and park. I saw a few race marshalls standing near the hospital and they suggested I turn around and park at the petrol (gas) station where they themselves had parked.

I parked at the petrol station and then walked down to where the marshalls were. In true South African form these women were so nice and friendly that we soon became best friends. They asked me where I was from. Partially I think because of my accent but also partially because they don't get a lot of white women hanging out alone in Soweto. I stayed with them and got to see Mr. Deep pass by and then I moved on to my next location.

 

Jabu

Busi (who also goes by Lillian) is on the left. I didn't get the name of the woman on my right.

Someone must have driven into this traffic light. It still works though. 

My next location was to be around mile 17 near Vilakazi Street a very vibrant and famous part of Soweto. This is the street where both Mandela and Tutu lived. I chose it because I figured it was early enough in the race where I would still be able to see Mr. Deep finish and also because (you guessed it) I had been there before on a tour. 

Driving to mile 17 from mile 4 (or wherever I was) proved challenging as I kept ending up having to drive across the race course. While this was frustrating for me, it was extremely frustrating for those people who were going about their business and had nothing to do with the race. The taxi drivers seemed especially inconvenienced. And since taxi drivers never follow any traffic rules of the road, they were certainly not going to let a few thousand runners get in their way. The race marshalls had a tough job trying to control the traffic. At one point I saw a race marshall sitting on the hood of a car trying to stop the driver from driving through the race course. Sadly, I didn't get a photo of that!

Here is a marshall arguing with a driver.

A nice shot of the Orlando Towers a Soweto landmark.

I arrived near Vilakazi street and parked in front of a church. Tip of the day when driving around Soweto park near churches and hospitals. Vilakazi Street did not disappoint as there was a lot of entertainment, music and energy and while I would have liked to hang out there I thought it would be better to go around the corner and try to create a little excitement along a quieter stretch of the course. I walked down to a residential area and began cheering my heart out for every runner who went by. Eventually Mr. Deep came along and then I was free to head to the finish. 

Entertainment on Vilakazi Street.

Getting to FNB Stadium was difficult as I somehow had to cross the race route twice. I finally made it and parked near a long pedestrian bridge. The man who helped me park my car told me it cost R30 to park there and while I think that was total BS, I paid it anyway. 

On one of my tours I learned that FNB Stadium, which was built for the 2010 world cup, is supposed to look like a giant class of beer with a foam head. It actually does but you can't tell from this photo. 

I headed inside to meet our thoughtful and kind friends who had also shown up to support Mr. Deep. We all then watched Mr. Deep cross the finish line. 
 

Mr. Deep, his post race beer and his Soweto Marathon Medal. 

Hit Me With Your Best Shot

For me living in South Africa is my big chance in life. It's my big chance to try new things and spend time doing activities that I enjoy. If I can think of something that I've always wanted to do or if I want to try something that I've never thought of doing before, now is the time. Throughout life we imagine hobbies or interests we'd like to pursue but we tell ourselves we don't have time and often we really don't. But I have time and now is my big chance. 

Maybe it's due to growing up in the era of Rocky Balboa or possibly I have pent up aggression but when I heard that a new boxing gym opened nearby I was intrigued and I wanted to try it. I should note that throughout my life I have often been intrigued and wanted to try things for what turned out to be the wrong reasons. I joined the band in high school because I thought it would be cool to march during football games and parades (by the way it's not cool at all it totally sucks.) I went to gymnastics camp because I wanted to join the gymnastics team so I could get the cool letter jacket. I have run marathons and half marathons so I could get the medals and have stronger looking legs but not because of any love of running. Similarly, I wanted to go to the boxing gym because I think wearing boxing gloves is cool and I want to have strong chiseled arms.

I also thought it would be a good idea for Mr. Deep and I to check out Fight Club (that's the name of the gym) together. While Mr. Deep and I are spending time together on the weekends and when we go on trips we aren't doing as many activities together as we used to before we moved here. We used to go to the gym together after work and now I go alone during the day. We don't run together because Mr. Deep is a lot faster than I am. We don't watch basketball together and root for our favorite team anymore because there is no basketball to watch. We don't talk about what happened on Howard Stern show because we can no longer listen. We don't cook dinner together because dinner making clearly falls under the Ops Department and Mr. Deep is not a member of the Ops team. So I asked him if he would go with me to Fight Club for a free trial and he agreed.

I wasn't sure what to expect from the free trial and we weren't given much information. The email confirmation said to bring water and a sweat towel so I imagined there would be some kind of exertion. But often when you visit gyms you also get an orientation of some kind so I thought that might be part of it. 


When we arrived we didn't have to sign any forms, present a doctor's note or even give a phone number. Yes, we had signed up in advance for the free trial but we never even gave our names when we checked in. I love the absence of formality and lack of concern over potential lawsuits in South Africa. 

We were put into a group with about ten other people. I am not sure if they were also there trying out the gym or if they were members. I was glad to see I wasn't the least fit of the bunch. I know it's petty but come on, you don't want to be the person who has to run out of the class to throw up. I was also probably the oldest woman in the group. I thought that was good from an expectations management standpoint. I considered telling the other women my age just so they would know for sure how old I am but I didn't get a chance. Chris, the trainer, asked us about our fitness level which of course Mr.Deep and I both described as "very good." He then wrapped our hands with a cloth band while Mr. Deep made comments like, "cut me Mick." 

To begin we had to run four laps around the parking lot. While I don't particularly like running I can run and I recently ran a 5k so I knew I could do it. My big concern was I didn't wear the right bra for running. The bra I wore was more appropriate for punching so that was not ideal. We ran the four laps and then Chris put boxing gloves on us. Yes, it's as cool as it sounds. We were hustled into an area with a bunch of bags and went through a series of drills. Many had to do with punching like left right left right really fast or punching left left left left etc. While we were busy punching the trainers walked around and gave advice about stance and form. In between bouts of punching we had to do jumping jacks, push ups, squats etc. 

After that we had to run again, this time two laps. If anyone stopped to walk (I didn't) the trainers told them no walking run, run, run. The running was o.k. but I've never had my arms hurt while running before. The punching was hard work! We then headed back inside for more activity. We did dips and fast step ups (two sets each) and then moved to another area where we held big weights (10kg for men and 5kg for women and a kg is 2.2 pounds by the way) above our heads and did fast knee lifts and then alternated with kettle bell swings. Twice. Finally we moved into the "ring" where we did crunches of various kinds before a cool down with stretching to end the class.

Throughout the class Mr. Deep shot me a few glances that indicated that he was not having fun and that he possibly wanted to kill me. It was really an intense work out. The first words Mr. Deep said to me after class were "having fun signing up" because he knew I would. And I will. These arms aren't going to chisel themselves. 

Somehow I was cut out of the two group photos taken by the club staff. I was standing right next to the girl with the red gloves. Now I have a complex thinking I was purposely cut because my arms are too flabby especially compared to hers.