French Hospital Adventures......starting off...
Starting off......
After the recent events, I have decided to go into things a little bit more deeply. With all the millions of milliards of pounds, euros, $ , (how many zeros is that?) and everything else that go into National or even Private/semi private Health systems, world wide, and which disappear just as rapidly, to be replaced by wining civil servants, complaining that they've got no money, I thought that it would be interesting to look at what happens to all this money.
That they haven't got any money is obvious, or they wouldn't have put me off for a week, just like I do when it comes to paying my water/phone/electricity bill, BUT - why haven't they got any money?
I know that Christmas and New Year Parties make up a part of the "moral-boosters" for the poor over-worked administrators (and by that I don't mean the nurses, technicians,surgeons,cleaning-ladies, who don't have time to go to the parties, even if they are invited) but I do think that if they hold sumptuous parties, they should have the decency to close down their hospital for the 10 days following, giving time for most of the patients to kick it, and pass into the hands of the undertakers,
Mrs Boys-Boys-almost in the flesh..like this - I would never have left her!My one was a "robust" lady, called Madame BOY-BOY-according to the thing pinned on her chest.
She explained, proudly, that it was a name of Spanish origins, and I suggested that it may be more appropriate (in view of her multi-coloured outfit) to add an "S" to each "BOY", which should roughly estimate her weekly consummation.
I felt inclined also, when she asked me my sex, to reply "BOYS-BOYS" but then, upon reflection, I estimated that this could lead to complications and possible misinterpretations, so I left it, and just muttered something about "yes-occasionally, but not with you".
The lady did not hear my mutterings, and continued to make her subtle advances, with questions like "age" etc.
I was just working out some bright spontaneous replies for the questions "size" - "how often" - "what position preferred", when she abruptly said "OK- that's it - you can go and see the Professor now", to which I replied - "But I'm not that sort of a boy, Mrs Boy-Boy"
Confused?
Not as much as I was!
Anyway, that was my first (and probably last - I thought) contact with "Boysie" and her system of Hospital Administration.
My little page of sticky labels (to put on your samples of all body liquids, and then some) clutched in my miserable little hands, I hurried away to see the much famed Professor.
 | As I recall, I left you last time, with me clutching my little sticky labels, and trying to get out of the clutches of Mrs Boys-boys! Well, my Professor turned out to be quite a pleasant guy, except that when I asked him how I should address him (Doctor, Professor or what) he replied by saying "Call me whatever you want-I'm not bothered". He did require a shave, a little stubble pushing on the chin area, but I forgave that as probably the result of having started at 4 or 5 in the morning, and it was now 1300hrs. I apologised for my tardiness, and explained it was all down to the French System. He was actually quite happy about my lateness, since (as he said) he had only just got back from the operating rooms, so being late had avoided my having to sit around for an hour or so! Great, thought I, next time I'll have to find some other good excuse for being late. Getting down to business, the man then went in to all the gory details of what he had planned for my immaculate body!  I'll spare you the details, you probably wouldn't understand it anyway, it was all in French. As a parting gesture, he rammed both hands into my stomach area, with the excuse he was searching for some important artery, and with all the fat around, he had to get down to the basics! "Fat!!?" I thought," what is this guy talking about?"  After having his bit of fun, he accompanied me to the Secretary, and gave her a load of instructions about what Mr Le Marquis had to do, before coming back in a weeks time. I thanked him, he thanked me, and when he had left, the Secretary said, "OK, Mr Le Marquis - you can forget all that, the Professor is always trying to help his patients with the Admin/Documentary work as well, but he doesn't have a clue! All you have to do is come back in a week’s time, go to the Reception, because your little WHITE labels are no good to you now, since you're coming in as a hospitalized patient, you'll need a sheet of PINK labels, and you'll get them at Reception, then come up here, get undressed and into bed!"  GOD - I thought, back to being one of Mrs Boys-boys - she will be pleased, and said flippantly "If Mrs Boys-boys hasn't already arranged the last two, down in Reception!" The Secretary did not understand! Anyway, I had a good week to think out something, so off I went, quietly whistling to myself, to wait the couple of hours necessary before my taxi arrived to take me home! (Of course the coffee machine was out of order, and I had the subtle feeling that this was a permanent condition!)  Getting home, and being welcomed by "Mme Granite de l’oasis" (my cat) with the usual - “where've you been, it's food time”- I realised I would have to make arrangements for the next weeks' events. Some phone calls, and 3 days later all was arranged. Taxi ordered, somebody to come and pick up the cat and all her affairs, shopping done with extra nonsenses (probably never usable) for my hospital stay, and when the infamous day arrived, all was ready, my bag packed, the place cleaned out ready for my return, floors washed, windows cleaned etc etc. The cat had been playing up for 3 or 4 days, she scented that something was going on, but I just told her we were going on separate holidays' for a week or so! She didn’t believe me!  An extra portion, daily, of tuna fish did help a little! Now we had arrived at Monday the 9th January 2006, and Mr Le Marquis was ready! Since I wasn't due to enter until 16hrs, I had time to do my normal midday meal (normally when you have anything to do with Doctors/Hospitals etc, they always want you at an unearthly early hour, with no breakfast taken, so this was a new experience) and I was just enjoying said Lunch, when the doorbell rang, and my "cat caretaker" arrived.  "I'm a bit early, but finish lunch and I'll take a coffee with you after"said she. Then the phone rang! Stuffing the cat's possessions into the car, I hastened to answer. "Mr Le Marquis", demanded a female voice (I think Mrs Boy-boy!)."I'm sorry to disturb but I'm afraid we have to cancel you appointment for today, can you come in a weeks' time instead?" "WHAT?" I screamed down the line,"3 hours before I'm due to arrive, taxi arranged, cat on the point of being taken away, and you want me to sit easy for another week?" "Well, I'm afraid our instruments are on the blink, don't work, kaput and all that!" I'll pull a shutter down on the conversation (mainly from my side) over the following 5 minutes, but I think Mrs Boy-boy got my message!  Profusely presenting my excuses to my cat-caretaker, who had come some 50 km's for nothing, and would now have to come back in a weeks' time, I started what they call in the Army "de-briefing" (not the same procedure as Mrs Boy-boys interpretation).  Phone the Taxi to cancel and re-order for the following week, get my rucksack out to do the minimum of shopping for another week, my military background having planned EXACTLY to the day for my Fridges to be empty! Briefly-all the things you have to "undo". The cat sat watching, and started getting upset again - a trick maybe to get another dose of tuna fish, or maybe she had been looking forward to that garden full of tom-cats. The nervous exhaustion of a weeks mental preparation for what is, after all, NOT a normal period in life, started showing, so off to bed I went, the cat following me. I did think about taking my little bundle of white labels with me, but I recalled that to go to bed, undressed, with or without Mrs Boy-boys, I needed PINK ones! Just having got into bed, the doorbell rang! Guess who? Yep - you're right, the cancelled taxi had arrived!  As I write, I've got some 48 hours before it all starts again - what wonders will be waiting for me? I'll let you know in the future - maybe! ******************* iwmpop (mr le marquis)-Vauvert,France-Janvier 2011 |
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