Anything but Suburbian Doctor's Office

Sorry, once again, no pictures for this post. I know that makes it awfully painful to read but what should I put pictures of? A diagram of the upper urinary tract? You can look that up on google images! A photo of the doctor's office? Sort of forgot to bring my camera...

About 2 weeks ago, I was slightly suspicious that there was something wrong with my kidneys when I felt pangs of pain there, but I ignored it. Sure enough it started to get constant. So I self-diagnosed myself with a kidney infection (I was right). I realized something ironic about going to the doctor. When you feel like crap and it hurts to move, you do not want to LEAVE the house for anything. Why would the doctor be any different? Why can't the doctor make house calls like in Little House on the Prairie? So, when I found out the doctor was actually open on a Sunday evening (probably the only establishment in the whole city), I didn't go because I REALLY didn't feel like it. Ironic, yes.

The next morning I trekked out. The elevator was broken as usual so I walked down 5.5 flights of stairs (not as bad as walking back up, that was very painful). Walking was pretty painful and I felt like such a spoiled suburbian person for always having access to a car. I guess there are TONS of people in the world who don't know anybody with a car and this is normal for them. I mean I have walked to the doc plenty of times before in college and in Sweden but what do you do when it is too painful to walk? Maybe they just call ambulances, that would have been so unnecessary but sort of fun! Anyway I found the doctor's "office" that a friend had told me about. The main door was wide open, with an empty lobby. There was a hidden plaque in the entryway stating it was a doctor's office. Just an empty white room, no reception, with some foldable chairs and an enigmatic plywood door, also unmarked. There was a doorbell next to the door and a paper stuck above it saying "ring and wait" So I rang, and waited. One couple was already waiting. They confirmed that yes, you just ring and sit down. This is one thing that bothers me about queuing in France. I used to complain about the Swedish uber-anal queue for everything, but  now I miss it. Because here, you just memorize the people that were in the vicinity when you got there, and when all of them have gone, you know it is your turn. I am very bad with faces so this makes it impossible for me to relax while waiting for something, trying to keep track of where I stand in the line.

I was sitting very uncomfortably doubled over and just counting the minutes until the doctor said "next" and it was my turn. The other couple had random visitors during their wait, some lady and a baby coming to show them bags of hand-me-down clothes. Right time and place? I suppose so. Another couple came in. A beggar came in from the street and spoke to the room in Arabic. When he was ignored he came to each of us individually and said something to each of us, one by one. Can't you see, Monsieur, that we are obviously at a ghetto clinic so we probably don't have money to share, and that some of us are in pain?? My insurance even covers private medical care so I do not know why I chose this place. Oh yeah, because who likes to do research when they feel like crap? Just go to the first one anyone tells you about.

A guy stepped in from the street asking who was last in line, I guess he was planning to wait in line while visiting a café or something? The man that came in after me said I was last. I said, no I thought I got here before you? He said, well I had forgotten these papers so I left to get them, but I got here before you. This is why I hate this anti-queue. I was like, ok whatever. But he said that I could go before him, no problem. I didn't say anything. Then his wife started yelling at him in another language. Obvious much??

When the doctor came out and said "next," the guy insisted that I go before him. I found myself in a humongous empty garage-like room, with some cubicle walls set up to make 3 makeshift rooms. It had an ambiance about as comfortable as a place you would go to be euthanized.

I was greeted by the doctor and a very young teen-aged boy. "This is an intern. Does it bother you if he sits in on this session?" Oh yeah, what woman would be bothered by a 16-year old boy sitting in on her doctor's appointment?!? Thinking this question didn't even deserve an answer, I just said, "I don't know, it's fine." The doctor was like, really are you sure? "NO, of course not, get that kid out of my sight" is what I didn't say.

It turns out that this garage cubicle doctor's office has no more medical equipment than a laptop and printer, and he printed me a prescription, and two notices sending me to two other places in the city to get tests. I walked back to the first testing place, it would cost 55 euros. I only had taken 50 with me thinking they would directly bill insurance anyway. The nearest atm was just about as far as home and I had stupidly only taken that atm-only French card with me, so I hobbled home to get my Swedish debit card, put about 1000 euros on the account to avoid having to walk anywhere ever again, tried to keep myself from completely breaking down, and went back to pee in a cup and get tons of blood drawn. After that I would rather have gone home than to radiology but he wrote "urgent" on that order. But oh, they don't accept credit cards, I would have to pay cash. So I had to leave there to go to an atm. Then they gave a sonogram to check for stones (none found). On the way home I picked up my scrips and collapsed into bed. This whole ordeal lasted from 11am to 3pm. It was exhausting. I missed 4 days of work and just stayed in bed the whole time, it was sort of nice because when lying down the pain wasn't too bad so it was lots of resting!

But that isn't the end of the story, no. For the first time ever, I broke out in hives from antibiotics. Typical. Calling in a new prescription was not an option. This was all hard paper, no computers involved. So getting new meds would have meant going back to the doctor, getting paper in my hand and putting the paper into a pharmacist's hand. (WHAT YEAR IS THIS!?!???!??!!). So after the hives were not too bad and only lasted about an hour, I decided to keep taking them. My body eventually gave in and stopped producing hives after a few days.

Next time I get sick I guess I will go to a hospital?

Nations DO Have Personalities

I have come to the conclusion that France and Sweden are total opposites. There are tooo many reasons to name, but just take my word for it. Yeah, tons of people say that "Marseille is not France" but that is just where I am so some of my comparisons are just Marseille-specific. Some obvious points are the weather, the drinking water (still having a hard time accepting that change), new vs. old, dirty vs. clean, elevators working vs. broken, availability of postage stamps, I could go on, but those are boring and whiny. Here are two interesting differences I have been noticing, without sounding like a bratty tourist!

Babies on busses
France: on almost every bus and tram ride I have been on here so far, strangers talk to the babies in their vicinity. It starts with one old person saying funny stuff to the baby, then some laughing comments about how the baby doesn't want to talk to him/her, then others chime in laughing and commenting, smiling at the mom, trying to get the baby to react...

Sweden: Sometimes the babies interact with each other, then the parents do too, but generally, pretty kept to themselves.



Strangers asking me where I'm from
France: people in the grocery store line, the pharmacist, the doctor, the other doctor, the other doctor (I will explain that story later)... "vous êtes de quelle origine?" :)


Sweden: Nobody. Though sometimes they used to speak English back to me, their way of saying, "I know you're a foreigner!"


Other interesting tidbits just about life in Marseille:


The Honking Ritual
Did you know that honking is effective in reducing city traffic?

My window

This is a very watered-down version, because they usually do not let up on the horn and just play one long HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO(NKeventually)! I just caught the tail end of it when most of the honkers had stopped. This goes on twice a day for about 5 minutes each.   I  a m  n o t  e x a g g e r a t i n g ! ! !

I Am a Robot
Is what I say to myself when walking down the street.

No eye-contact. No emotion. No smiling, not even to yourself. Do not speak, to anybody. Do not look at any humans. Nothing gets your attention, not even somebody yelling pretending like they know you, or making very loud and unusual noises.

Using this strategy just makes it easier to forget about the people on the streets raping you with their eyes.


Next time you get a doctor story! It is not as juicy as being in a third-world country so don't get too excited but it was interesting...