This week has flown by. There were courses to sign the kids up for, beach house reparations to be done and me who ended up getting sick. Well a sore throat and sort of feverish, anyway. I don’t usually get sick, so after several months of having this sore throat come and go, oh and strep throat in both kids schools, I decided to go see a doctor. A French Doctor. It is not my usual French doctor, but a new place where I am told to go to ‘examine the throat’.
I arrive at the new doctor’s office and wait my turn patiently in the small white waiting room. When it is my turn, I go into the examination room. The doctor is a small woman with a brown bob, around her mid-fifties.
I sit on the examination chair.
She stares at me for a moment and then says in French ‘what is the problem?’
I tell her ‘I have a sore throat, a really bad sore throat.’ I say this in french ‘Moi, j’ai un grande mal de gorge’
She looks at me with a blank look on her face and says to me ‘C’est normale’ which means ‘this is normal.’
I don’t understand what she means so I say ‘il n’y a pas normale autremente c’est un gorge normale, e moi j’ai un mal de gorge‘ and this means ‘no, it is not normal, otherwise it would be a normal throat, instead I have a sore throat.’ She becomes very irritated with me and I don’t why, maybe she was hoping I came in with a giant jellyfish stuck to my head, instead here I am whining about a sore throat. She pulls out a very long popsickle-like stick and jams it into the back of my throat making me gag, at the same time she tells me to stick out my tongue.
I am trying to but it’s not easy, I say ‘il n’y a pas facile’.. she sighs a very deep sigh,..takes out the popsickle stick and chucks it into the nearby silver trash bin. Then without saying a word she scribbles something on a piece of paper, grabs the paper and leaves the room. I stare at the door and then follow her out of the examination room. She is nowhere to be seen. I pay the smiling receptionist, who tells me I can pick up my exams in one week. I smile politely, thank her and leave the building. I then walk straight across the street and into the local pharmacy. The woman at the counter says in French ‘Can I help you?’ I say ‘Oui, merci, j’ai un grande mal de gorge…’
Just another day in the beautiful French Riviera..