Being Sick in France...A SAGA.

I could tell you about the wonderfully amazing time I had with my family in Amsterdam and Bruges for Christmas. Or I could tell you about getting horribly sick afterwards. I think I am going to go for the second, because I think the French medical system is pretty interesting, and I feel like the thousands of pictures I took in Amsterdam and Bruges pretty much tell that story.

So. I woke up the last day in Bruges, in a cold sweat, and I knew something was up. Shaky and feverish, I somehow made it back to Amiens, taking the Bruges--Brussels--Lille Europe--Lille Flandres--Amiens route. I have no idea how. I vaguely remember getting on and off trains, but that is about it.

Once back in Amiens, I crawled into my bed for about 3 days straight. I didn't think about eating, I just made my way through cartons of apple juice, and paracetomol. I think I also made it through an entire season of Intervention.

Finally, I couldn't take being in my room anymore, and I thought a trip to the pharmacist would be a good idea. Armed with pastilles, paracetomol and aspirin, I thought I was ready to combat my flu. While the endless consumption of pills helped, I still needed to go to the doctor, because I had gone 5 days without eating, and I was too weak to really even move.

The doctor gave me a million prescriptions (as they do in France), including a prescription for a protein milkshake to drink because I couldn't get any solids in. Yum. The people at the pharmacy now know me by face, which is a bit offputting! Still, I am feeling a lot better, and I am glad the doctors and pharmacists were so helpful. I am also glad that I can now communicate what is wrong with me in French...that is a big leap! Now all I have to do is sort out this whole insurance thing...uh oh!