These ambulance drivers were very funny. No English. The younger one made the older do all the heavy pushing of the American...with a smirk.
As we are riding through the streets of Paris in an Ambulance, which by the way, gets no respect on the streets. I cannot believe this is happening. I certainly thought my first Ambulance trip would be with one of my children. So, now Brandon and I have toured Paris in a double Decker bus, taxis, bus, Metro, and Ambulance. Not to bad for roughly two months time.
We arrive at the Hospital and get through the paperwork (one page) with a half hearted receptionist and continue on with the nicest hospital staff that we have ever met.
We meet the Irish Doctor and we are told to get an Xray and then make an appointment for an MRI. So, I dropped Bran off at Xray and go down to MRI to see what I can get done.
I find out an MRI appointment is not possible for another 10 days.
Now is a good time to mention that two kids at home, a newly arrived teenage girl helping me, an arthritis flare up that won't go away and a husband that can't move...things are a bit stressful. So, thank God I was of sound mind to take a Zanex today. My eye twitch came back last week and today I didn't feel like fighting it.
Back to the story, normally I would have been taken over by an uncomfortable giggle and filled the silence after the 10 day comment with mindless babel of stupid stories. However, with my little pill I am much calmer, and comfortable silence works in my favor.
"He cannot walk. Is there anything we can do?" I don't flash the normal American smile, just a calm face with a pleasant look. She excuses herself and comes back.
"Are you paying or do you have insurance that is paying?"
Thank God I am married to Brandon. Because while we were waiting on the Ambulance I called the Insurance company and got them to fax ahead to the hospital that we were on our way and all financial obligations were covered. You have to love Pretty.
"Our insurance is covering it."
She leaves again. I am still impressed with myself and the ease the silence is bringing me. No silly grin slapped across my face, just calm and matter of fact.
"Okay Mrs. Rice it will be 10 minutes."
Voila, now I am feeling good.
While we are sitting and waiting on the results Brandon asks me:
"Have you been praying?"
"No. I just assume at this point in my life in this country He knows I need him everyday."
So we sit there in the comfortable silence.
Another well groomed man comes through the waiting room on his way out for the evening. He starts speaking in French directed at us. Looking confused, Brandon says "English?" In decent English he says, "Your knee, it's broken." Smiles politely and walks away. Brandon's face and ears turn bright red and I assure him, that we should just hope that it's just a bad translation.
We head back down to the Doctor and let them know that we are ready to see him again. The nurse looks stunned and says, "no you will see him after the MRI." I explain we have had it and she remains unsure. Then I break the news.
"They say it is broken."
Now she is interested and takes the x rays. Reading aloud I hear her say the word "fracture", again that is a universal word. I ask, just to clarify and she confirms and tells Brandon to go lay down.
So there you have it...a broken knee cap.
We see the Doctor and he says, "Wow, you got all this done today. Madame you are very persistant." Merci.
Now, Pretty is laid up on the couch until his Monday appointment, where we decide what to do next. In the meantime, he sits semi comfortable with a glass of red wine...