Today I had a very interesting experience. Apparently here in France, doctors still do house calls. Now, maybe I've just been missing out on this awesomeness in the U.S. for some reason, but I kind of thought that doctors stopped doing that in the 1920s or something. So, without further ado, I present to you a thesis (based entirely on anecdotal evidence): the French are a) overmedicated in a way that would put 30327 to shame (you know what I mean, Atlanta people) and b) hypochodriacs.
So the four-year-old has been sick with a pretty minor cold for the past week or so, and was therefore given antibiotics, nasal spray, cough syrup, fever medicine and suppositories (don't really know why he needs those but the French LOVE suppositories). The doctor came back again today to re-examine him because he is still coughing, as well as to check out the seven-year-old and me. The seven-year-old was given the same laundry list of medications and diagnosed with something that sounded like "rhinopharagine" (I suppose that if spelled phonetically it would look like this: REE-no-fair-a-GENE) which I suspect might be the French hypochondriac version of "common cold." Which leads me to this: antibiotics and suppositories for a common cold? I ask you.
Then the doctor got to me. Apparently I have what sounds like "sinusite" (or SEE-noo-SEET). I believe this is French for "sinus infection." I mean, I could have told him that. That's why I've been taking all the Nyquil. Alas, it's not enough. Apparently I should be taking antibiotics, steroid nasal spray, allergy medicine, sore throat syrup and narcotic cough pills. The pharmacist was apalled when I told her I only wanted the antibiotics and spray. I mean, how will I survive?
What really put the nail in the coffin of my opinion of French hardiness, though, was the four-year-old's little accident this evening. He stubbed his toe, which seemed to be fine until he looked at it and saw he had torn a nail and it was bleeding a little. This led to hyperventilating and tears. So I gave him a Transformers band-aid and figured he would be fine. But no. Here are some of the things I heard him say tonight: "Well, I guess I can't go to school tomorrow because I have a boo-boo on my toe and I won't be able to wear shoes." "Elizabeth, I need to sit at the big table at dinner because when I sit at the little table my feet touch the floor and, you know, I have a boo-boo on my toe." "Elizabeth, will you carry me to the kitchen? I can't walk because of the boo-boo on my toe." He also called his mom to tell her. You know, just in case he needs his leg amputated or something.
In Cathy's opinion, this is why the French never win wars. More on that next time. Until then, gros bisous from cold, windy Paris, France.
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