Like many woman with unruly lady parts, I use birth control to keep things – well – under control. For me, the Depo Provera shot works better than any of the numerous other options I have tried, including contraceptive pills and the NuvaRing.
In the US, I would just drop by my local Kaiser Permanente clinic every three months for an injection. But during our year of travel in South America, I had to learn the local customs each time I needed a new shot. My first attempt at procuring birth control shot happened in Mendoza, Argentina, in July 2019. I hope you enjoy this belated, blow-by-blow account.
I set out this morning at 10 am to get a Depo Provera shot, which I take every 3 months to regulate an unpredictable and excruciatingly painful menstrual cycle. A pharmacist in a shop told me yesterday that I could just go to a medical clinic and get a shot – easy peasy. I walked to a clinic directly across the street from our AirBnB and waited my turn to talk to the receptionist. She told me I would need to go to a different clinic several blocks away named Cruz Blanco. So I headed in the direction she pointed and eventually found myself quite lost. I popped into a local shop to ask where the nearby gynecology clinic was, and a woman nursing a baby pointed me to the next corner, told me to turn left, and go halfway down that block.
The waiting room was full of women, so I felt confident that I had found the right spot. The receptionist disagreed. Before I could finish asking my question in toddler-level Spanish, she shook her head at me sternly and told me to go to the pharmacy.
At the pharmacy, an extremely helpful woman showed me two boxes of medication, neither of which was Depo Provera. She said they had oral contraceptives, but that the three-month injection of Depo Provera was “muy fuerte” (very strong) and that I would need to go to a clinic. She wrote down the name of a nearby clinic, and as I left the pharmacy, another female customer grabbed my hand, walked me across the street, and pushed open the door to the clinic I had just visited, saying “Buena suerte.” (Good luck.)
The receptionist was even less happy to see me the second time. I tried to explain that the pharmacy sent me back to the clinic, but she cut me off and told me I’d need to go to the hospital for an injection.
I asked her to write down the name of the hospital and the address, which she did reluctantly before rolling her eyes and thrusting the paper into my hand. I walked about ½ mile to the public hospital and entered the first door I could find. It had the feel of an abandoned insane asylum, but there was a friendly security guard inside who told me I should go back outside and walk around to the front of the next building.
This one turned out to be the new wing of the hospital, and it seemed quite modern. I’m assuming it was the pediatric department/maternity ward, as I was the only woman there not carrying a newborn. I waited my turn to speak to the receptionist, who pointed me to the lab department about 100 feet away. The receptionist there said I should go to the next building, make my way through the halls, and find the pharmacy, which may or may not have the medication I was seeking.
Amazingly, I found the correct building on the first try, and another security guard directed me down a long, winding hallway to the pharmacy. It was crowded with probably 100 people, nearly half of whom were coughing children. The single worker sat behind a cage-like barrier while patients pressed around the counter. I asked, “Is this the line?” and a man told me to take a number. My number was 785, though I had no idea whatsoever which number was currently being helped. I sat down next to a woman who was there with two young girls: a coughing toddler and her six-ish year-old sister. The girls and I practiced high-fiving for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, I heard someone call out a number: 628.
Another woman sat down next to me, and we began to talk. She asked if I lived in Argentina, and if I had brought a “receta” from the doctor. I explained that I had a prescription from my doctor in the US for an “inyection de contraception que necesito cada tres meses.” She patiently explained that three-month shots don’t exist in Argentina, and even if they did, they were unlikely to have them at the public hospital pharmacy. Furthermore, I would not be able to get anything at all from this pharmacy, since I had not seen a doctor at this particular hospital. She did tell me that one-month shots are available in the pharmacy, and I realized that was what the first pharmacist had attempted to sell me, a couple hours ago. The mother of the two girls confirmed that this was accurate.
I thanked the helpful women, gave the kids another dozen high-fives, and walked the ½ mile back to the original pharmacy. Along the way, I stumbled across Cruz Blanco, which turned out to be an injection clinic. The friendly male med-tech there told me to go buy the injection at the pharmacy and bring it back to him so he could give me the shot.
When I entered the pharmacy the second time, there was a line of people in front of me. The pharmacist who had attempted to help me previously noticed my return and gave me a quizzical look.
“Me rindo,” I replied, shrugging my shoulders. (I surrender.)
Once I reached the counter, she asked if I wanted the oral contraceptives. I asked if I could get an injection for one month, and her co-worker brought out the same two boxes they had offered earlier in the day. I asked which one she recommended and how much they cost, and she said they were basically the same thing. One was 180 pesos and the other was 165 pesos (~$4). I bought the cheaper one, walked back to the injection clinic, and the med-tech invited me in immediately. I gave him the Reader’s Digest version of my adventure, and he suppressed a giggle. He gave me the shot in my right hip and charged me 100 pesos (about $2.50). I threw my hands in the air and shouted “GOOOOAAAAALLLLLLLL!” We both laughed hysterically.
Altogether, the journey took 4 hours, and I managed to get in 10,300 steps. So – I’m all set for another month, at which time I get to begin a new contraceptive adventure in a new country. Stay tuned.
