4th August 2008

After 3 years of hilarious situations and continuing traumas, I'm still here in the S.W. of France! June was a particular case in point. I managed to break my shoulder - that bloody dog again! He decided to chase after another canine, pulling me heavily to the ground. The best bit was that I got to experience the pompiers (emergency service) at first hand - or my only hand as it happened. The French health service is fantastic. No waiting around in crowded A & E departments - I was taken straight to a doctor on arrival. X-rays of my offending shoulder were displayed within 5 mins, prognosis made and the vagaries of a complicated shoulder-sling explained. Why can't I have a plaster cast? I asked stupidly. And just where exactly would we put it? replied the doctor patiently. Quite. I learned that in-patients in French hospitals get served wine with their meals. Just like in the U.K. (I don't think). And they can choose from glossy brochures exactly which extra services they might like during their stay. Another thing I noticed was the uniforms. Nurses and technicians employed in the hospital I attended wore super cool white or yellow loose-fitting tunics and trousers. They made the ridiculous UK hospital uniforms look like something from Florence Nightingale's era. (No stupid starched caps, matronly blue dresses, black stockings etc. etc.) - and that's only the men!