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Jul. 25th, 2011 02:15 amDear Universe, thank you for Montpellier. Thank you for the French medical system. Thank you for warm sunny days and streets named after people I'm writing about. Today could have been entirely dreadful and instead, all is very nice indeed.
For the record, I was ill. I got to Montpellier, checked in and promptly went out again to shop for comestibles. I was a bit teary, so I thought about my legs and looked at them and got a bit of a shock. I went to the tourist people and said "Hi, I need food and possibly a pharmacist." I lost my French, which was fine, because the staff member was from London and recognised me as Australian. She pointed me to everything I needed. I went to the pharmacist first.
I explained to the pharmacist (apologising for my sudden loss of French) that I thought something was wrong and explained it rather badly. She asked, how wrong was it and I lifted my skirt three inches. She had the most fabulous look on her face! At this point I realised why my French was lacking. Anyhow, she said to see a doctor tomorrow because it was beyond her assistance but then she suggested in the most elegant way possible, that there was an emergency clinic within walking distance and that if I hurt (only if I hurt, mind) I could possibly go there. She showed me on the map. It was a mile and a bit, which is when I realised that she was sending me there.
The reception lady at the emergency clinic was nice, but a bit amused when I had no idea what I was covered for or who covered me and hauled out my computer and called up the numbers. I explained that it was for emergencies when my brain didn't work. Like my temporary phone number being stuck on the back of my phone. If anyone steals the phone they will get precisely 2 pounds worth of phonecalls from it...maybe less. My emergency system therefore, works. And it wasn't French I was losing - it was pain I was feeling.
Anyhow, the emergency people saw me within ten minutes. The doctor explained that I had been bitten by a particular insect (not a wasp, which is what I had assumed) and that there were three bites on one leg and one on the other and that I had treated those bites precisely the way I should have, except that the infection was too big for teatree oil and cleaning/draining to cope with. It was washed and dressed by a nurse and I was given copious instructions and they looked Australia up on their computer and were highly amused that I was bitten in York, England, not York, Australia. They were very impressed with my French (which is when I found out that I had not actually lost it, but was just very unwell) and said that tomorrow it (my infection, not my French, though possibly that, too) would have been much worse. So I did the right things. And I have a bandaged leg and a patched other leg and strict instructions about washing. And I finally made my first joke of the day and the nurse thought it was funny (I made a bilingual pun, which just goes to show that medicine saves minds - also that the stress relief and pain relief made a difference).
I then went to the chemist with a huge list on the prescription. I walked out with a bag full of things, including lots of antibiotics and a bottle of oxyenated water. It all cost about the same amount as one of the lots of antibiotics, back home. And I did my shopping (slowly) and found my way back to the hotel, and marvelled at how friendly folks are here and that I'm allowed to smile again and to wear t-shirts and I thought "Montpellier really did come late to France." If Australia were French, Montpellier is what we would have become. And I got back to the hotel room, took my first dose of antibiotic, turned on the TV and am now watching House in French. The universe is in complete harmony.
PS Just to reassure those who need reassurances - I scheduled a day off for recovery in Montpellier, should the last three weeks have caused me problems. Tomorrow is it. The only thing I have scheduled is some light shopping, a block away. If I can do more, i will, but mostly I shall not push things.
PPS The poor receptionist wasn't sure if my surname was Gillian or Polack.
For the record, I was ill. I got to Montpellier, checked in and promptly went out again to shop for comestibles. I was a bit teary, so I thought about my legs and looked at them and got a bit of a shock. I went to the tourist people and said "Hi, I need food and possibly a pharmacist." I lost my French, which was fine, because the staff member was from London and recognised me as Australian. She pointed me to everything I needed. I went to the pharmacist first.
I explained to the pharmacist (apologising for my sudden loss of French) that I thought something was wrong and explained it rather badly. She asked, how wrong was it and I lifted my skirt three inches. She had the most fabulous look on her face! At this point I realised why my French was lacking. Anyhow, she said to see a doctor tomorrow because it was beyond her assistance but then she suggested in the most elegant way possible, that there was an emergency clinic within walking distance and that if I hurt (only if I hurt, mind) I could possibly go there. She showed me on the map. It was a mile and a bit, which is when I realised that she was sending me there.
The reception lady at the emergency clinic was nice, but a bit amused when I had no idea what I was covered for or who covered me and hauled out my computer and called up the numbers. I explained that it was for emergencies when my brain didn't work. Like my temporary phone number being stuck on the back of my phone. If anyone steals the phone they will get precisely 2 pounds worth of phonecalls from it...maybe less. My emergency system therefore, works. And it wasn't French I was losing - it was pain I was feeling.
Anyhow, the emergency people saw me within ten minutes. The doctor explained that I had been bitten by a particular insect (not a wasp, which is what I had assumed) and that there were three bites on one leg and one on the other and that I had treated those bites precisely the way I should have, except that the infection was too big for teatree oil and cleaning/draining to cope with. It was washed and dressed by a nurse and I was given copious instructions and they looked Australia up on their computer and were highly amused that I was bitten in York, England, not York, Australia. They were very impressed with my French (which is when I found out that I had not actually lost it, but was just very unwell) and said that tomorrow it (my infection, not my French, though possibly that, too) would have been much worse. So I did the right things. And I have a bandaged leg and a patched other leg and strict instructions about washing. And I finally made my first joke of the day and the nurse thought it was funny (I made a bilingual pun, which just goes to show that medicine saves minds - also that the stress relief and pain relief made a difference).
I then went to the chemist with a huge list on the prescription. I walked out with a bag full of things, including lots of antibiotics and a bottle of oxyenated water. It all cost about the same amount as one of the lots of antibiotics, back home. And I did my shopping (slowly) and found my way back to the hotel, and marvelled at how friendly folks are here and that I'm allowed to smile again and to wear t-shirts and I thought "Montpellier really did come late to France." If Australia were French, Montpellier is what we would have become. And I got back to the hotel room, took my first dose of antibiotic, turned on the TV and am now watching House in French. The universe is in complete harmony.
PS Just to reassure those who need reassurances - I scheduled a day off for recovery in Montpellier, should the last three weeks have caused me problems. Tomorrow is it. The only thing I have scheduled is some light shopping, a block away. If I can do more, i will, but mostly I shall not push things.
PPS The poor receptionist wasn't sure if my surname was Gillian or Polack.