French Hospitals
Yesterday was my "big" day. I went to the clinic de Cedres in Toulouse for a small surgical procedure to try to rid me of my headaches.
First thing: in France a "clinique" is a private hospital, whereas a "hospital" is a public institution. I don't really know what difference this makes to the patient; perhaps it has to do with how much each can charge? I should really find out.
At any rate, the first thing that was interesting from an American point of view is how I got there. I knew it would be a very long day, because I needed to leave Chalabre at 6 am in order to be in Toulouse by 8, and taking into consideration that it would be rush hour by the time we got there. I doubted I would be home before late afternoon (and was right about that as it turned out), which meant a very, very long time to leave Maggie home alone. In L.A. this wouldn't have been a problem, as she had her own doggie door access into the back garden. I did have several neighbors all offer to come in to take her for walks, but she still would have been alone for quite some time.
I could easily have driven myself to Toulouse, but I wasn't going to be allowed to drive back home. In retrospect, I suppose JM could have brought Maggie with him and then found a place to hang for part of the day, but it all seemed complicated. So, I was delighted to find out about a great service that is available here in France.
If you are going to be hospitalized, or if you have a permanent condition that requires frequent medical visits, you are eligible for an ambulance taxi. Basically, this is a regular taxi, NOT an ambulance, that takes you to the hospital, etc. It is paid for by your social security/mutuelle insurance plan. My local GP wrote me a prescription, I called our local taxi company, Taxi du Kercorb, run by the wonderful Pierron family, and set up the appointment. At 6 am, Viviane pulled up and we had a lovely chat as we drove to Toulouse. To top things off, Viviane stayed with me until I was led back to my room in the outpatient surgical center so that I wouldn't feel alone. She left her number with the nurses so that they could call her to come back and get me in the afternoon.
Check in was similar to the U.S, except I had no co-pay and no need to give a credit card or any other form of payment. The little wrist bracelet was exactly the same; some things never change.
Then, I went back to a waiting room where a nurse collected the paperwork from all the patients and led us en masse back to our cubicles. A nice thing was that we each had a seperate room with its own bathroom. Very nice and cozy.
Les Cedres is in the top ten French hospitals for low rates of post-op infection. In fact in a recent study, they had NO cases of MRSA (methicillin resistant Staph Aureus), which I found very reassuring. This meant that before going in for my surgery, I needed to take two showers (the night before and morning of surgery) using a Betadine solution. Also, they ask you to bring your own thermometer, all your own medical records, and everything in the area that can be is disposable rather than washable. In spite of that, the paper gowns actually closed in the back, which was a major plus in my opinion!
As always, there was a long period of kind of waiting around before anything actually happened. I was a bit stressed because I wanted to call JM, but there was no cell phone signal. I didn't actually relax until the nurse came in to start my IV and very, very kindly offered to call him to let him know that I was okay. I was very, very appreciative.
In fact, everyone with whom I came in contact was very kind, very helpful, very good humored. To me, it felt much calmer and less rushed than the experiences I've had in U.S. outpatient surgery centers. I don't think they get many Americans in there and everyone was very interested in the fact that I was there and living in France AND that I spoke such good French.
When it was finally time for my procedure, the surgical nurse came and took me over to the operating room. It had to be set up a bit differently for my procedure, because the surgeon needed access to my neck. This was where it got interesting. I actually had to sit up on the edge of the stretcher and kind of lean over the operating table with my head resting on a pillow. They decided that instead of using a general anesthetic that they would use a local. This was good in one sense, because it's less of a recovery period, but bad in another, because it was not actually a lot of fun to be awake.
But, everyone was so sweet and caring that I managed to get through it all without too much trouble, other than almost passing out! Still, afterwards they wheeled me to the recovery room for about 40 minutes to get my blood pressure back up, then it was back to my little room.
They serve you a little snack (COFFEE!!!!!) and make you hang out for at least an hour so that they can sure you're not going to pass out or anything dire like that.
This is where things got even funnier. One of the nurses knew a little English and wanted to practice with me. I wound up writing her out a list of appropriate phrases and medical terms, because they get so many English-speakers that sometimes communication is difficult. It turns out that the nurses have been petitioning the administration of the hospital for English lessons. So, I left my name and number and told her that if the hospital is interested and I can get enough students, I'd be delighted to come for once a week classes.
At 2:30, Viviane arrived to shepherd me home and we rolled into Chalabre at around 5 pm. It was indeed a long day. JM told me that Maggie had clearly missed me more than usual when I'm out and had actually been sick during the afternoon, something that almost never occurs. Poor girl was clearly stressed out; but JM was stressed as well and she must have picked up on it.
Now, all we can do is wait to see if it was all worthwhile as far as my headaches are concerned. It certainly was an interesting experience, no matter what the consequences.
Ciao for now!
Randy
First thing: in France a "clinique" is a private hospital, whereas a "hospital" is a public institution. I don't really know what difference this makes to the patient; perhaps it has to do with how much each can charge? I should really find out.
At any rate, the first thing that was interesting from an American point of view is how I got there. I knew it would be a very long day, because I needed to leave Chalabre at 6 am in order to be in Toulouse by 8, and taking into consideration that it would be rush hour by the time we got there. I doubted I would be home before late afternoon (and was right about that as it turned out), which meant a very, very long time to leave Maggie home alone. In L.A. this wouldn't have been a problem, as she had her own doggie door access into the back garden. I did have several neighbors all offer to come in to take her for walks, but she still would have been alone for quite some time.
I could easily have driven myself to Toulouse, but I wasn't going to be allowed to drive back home. In retrospect, I suppose JM could have brought Maggie with him and then found a place to hang for part of the day, but it all seemed complicated. So, I was delighted to find out about a great service that is available here in France.
If you are going to be hospitalized, or if you have a permanent condition that requires frequent medical visits, you are eligible for an ambulance taxi. Basically, this is a regular taxi, NOT an ambulance, that takes you to the hospital, etc. It is paid for by your social security/mutuelle insurance plan. My local GP wrote me a prescription, I called our local taxi company, Taxi du Kercorb, run by the wonderful Pierron family, and set up the appointment. At 6 am, Viviane pulled up and we had a lovely chat as we drove to Toulouse. To top things off, Viviane stayed with me until I was led back to my room in the outpatient surgical center so that I wouldn't feel alone. She left her number with the nurses so that they could call her to come back and get me in the afternoon.
Check in was similar to the U.S, except I had no co-pay and no need to give a credit card or any other form of payment. The little wrist bracelet was exactly the same; some things never change.
Then, I went back to a waiting room where a nurse collected the paperwork from all the patients and led us en masse back to our cubicles. A nice thing was that we each had a seperate room with its own bathroom. Very nice and cozy.
Les Cedres is in the top ten French hospitals for low rates of post-op infection. In fact in a recent study, they had NO cases of MRSA (methicillin resistant Staph Aureus), which I found very reassuring. This meant that before going in for my surgery, I needed to take two showers (the night before and morning of surgery) using a Betadine solution. Also, they ask you to bring your own thermometer, all your own medical records, and everything in the area that can be is disposable rather than washable. In spite of that, the paper gowns actually closed in the back, which was a major plus in my opinion!
As always, there was a long period of kind of waiting around before anything actually happened. I was a bit stressed because I wanted to call JM, but there was no cell phone signal. I didn't actually relax until the nurse came in to start my IV and very, very kindly offered to call him to let him know that I was okay. I was very, very appreciative.
In fact, everyone with whom I came in contact was very kind, very helpful, very good humored. To me, it felt much calmer and less rushed than the experiences I've had in U.S. outpatient surgery centers. I don't think they get many Americans in there and everyone was very interested in the fact that I was there and living in France AND that I spoke such good French.
When it was finally time for my procedure, the surgical nurse came and took me over to the operating room. It had to be set up a bit differently for my procedure, because the surgeon needed access to my neck. This was where it got interesting. I actually had to sit up on the edge of the stretcher and kind of lean over the operating table with my head resting on a pillow. They decided that instead of using a general anesthetic that they would use a local. This was good in one sense, because it's less of a recovery period, but bad in another, because it was not actually a lot of fun to be awake.
But, everyone was so sweet and caring that I managed to get through it all without too much trouble, other than almost passing out! Still, afterwards they wheeled me to the recovery room for about 40 minutes to get my blood pressure back up, then it was back to my little room.
They serve you a little snack (COFFEE!!!!!) and make you hang out for at least an hour so that they can sure you're not going to pass out or anything dire like that.
This is where things got even funnier. One of the nurses knew a little English and wanted to practice with me. I wound up writing her out a list of appropriate phrases and medical terms, because they get so many English-speakers that sometimes communication is difficult. It turns out that the nurses have been petitioning the administration of the hospital for English lessons. So, I left my name and number and told her that if the hospital is interested and I can get enough students, I'd be delighted to come for once a week classes.
At 2:30, Viviane arrived to shepherd me home and we rolled into Chalabre at around 5 pm. It was indeed a long day. JM told me that Maggie had clearly missed me more than usual when I'm out and had actually been sick during the afternoon, something that almost never occurs. Poor girl was clearly stressed out; but JM was stressed as well and she must have picked up on it.
Now, all we can do is wait to see if it was all worthwhile as far as my headaches are concerned. It certainly was an interesting experience, no matter what the consequences.
Ciao for now!
Randy
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