What I really wanted to say is that the much-respected French medical system can truly f*ck up schedules and impact people’s lives badly, but wait — I’m getting ahead of myself.
The day began well. In spite of a fairly sleepless night, I was up on time before dawn for the two hour trip to Toulouse to a strange hospital for a scary out-patient medical treatment. We got stuck in rush hour traffic, 6 lanes of gridlock, but still managed to arrive on the dot for my appointment check in at 9:15 AM. It all went downhill from there.
Mark had to drive me to the appointment because I had been told to take 2 oral morphine-blend capsules just as I left he house in the morning. I was prepared for the procedure and feeling no pain of any kind.
Morphine-blend capsules
But I stood in the hallway of the treatment wing feeling wobbly and stunned at the same time as the woman in charge of the department told me, “you don’t conform to our schedule.” What???
I pulled out my PRINTED appointment sheet and referral from my doctor here in St. Girons and, I swear to God, she shrugged. Then she told me to come back at 11:00 and by the way, take another morphine pill before I came back. Off to the cafe we went to kill an hour and a half and eat a yogurt to try and settle my stomach.
Arriving back in the treatment area 5 minutes early, we sat and waited and as the time began to slide by. Then I stood up and told Mark that something was not right — I could sense it. I went into the office and asked quite pointedly, “Quelle heure est mon rendez-vous?” (What time is my appointment?) Off she went down the hall and came back with the information that I was dreading, they MIGHT be able to fit me in after lunch — perhaps after 1 PM.
I’m usually quite a polite and respectful person, but I completely lost my temper and told her that it was the most f’d up thing I had ever heard of to both phone a patient AND send them a printed appointment by mail, have them drive a long distance for medical treatment, have the husband lose an entire day of work, somehow manage to NOT keep the appointment, and also to have the patient take unnecessary medication for pain. And I left as she stood there looking stunned that I had spoken up for myself.
As we drove home that afternoon after lunch, I had Mark swing by our local hospital and I related the entire sorry story to the local medical staff. The head nurse listened to my saga and I watched as her jaw became set with anger. She faxed my printed appointment to the administrative office in Toulouse and then called the hospital and absolutely shrieked at them on the phone! “Pourquoi?” (Why?) She was still angry when she hung up and she confirmed that I did just the right thing to walk out because they had plainly lost my appointment and they had no intention of working me into their schedule that day. Such incompetence! Aaarrrggghhh!!!
If my posts are a little thin on the ground in the coming weeks, it’s because I’m dealing with a few challenges right now. For those of you who were already in the loop, thanks for the many notes and good wishes. They are greatly appreciated.
And readers, I will keep you posted on the follow-up to this ‘Debacle In Toulouse’ story and any other relevant tidbits.
Bye for now!
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