So I went today to a doctor. There was nobody in the waiting room. Just some chairs and magazines. You sit down and you wait. Presumably, the doctor figures out that you're there when s/he buzzes you into the building. So I sat and waited, in a small, windowless, smooth surfaced, echoy-as-heck room and the doctor came out. He spoke more English than I speak French. In general, I hate doctors. They make me anxious. He was ok, though. We talked for a few minutes. He took my blood pressure, listened to my heart and breathing. Told me my heart is fine. Asked as many questions as he could given the language issues. Told him that the first time I had a panic attack was when my mom had cancer. He said, I was freaking out about the death of my mother (ok, possible). It makes people more fragile. (ok, possible). Whatever. He gave me a prescription for Xanax. I walked across the street afterwards and got some generic Xanax. woot. Nobody said anything to me about any side effects or not to take it with alcohol or anything else. Nicole bought aspirin the other day and it doesn't even say how often to take them. I guess that if you speak French, the pharmacist explains it to you, or maybe you have to ask. The aspirin's drug info is all in French. I haven't looked at the Xanax yet.
I don't have health insurance in France, so I had to pay cash for a longish doctor's visit and a prescription. The whole thing set me back 25€. Thank goodness the American government is saving us from the hell that is a socialized medical system! I can't imagine living under a regime where I can call up a doctor, have an appointment the next day and walk out to fill a 2€ prescription, where even if the national health isn't covering any part of it for some reason, it costs less than my new pillow did. God forbid that government regulation lead to easy, accessible, affordable healthcare.
Anyway, I've been getting better every day since Christmas, so maybe I won't need to take any of my prescription. I remember some very drama-causing insult from over the summer where one person in my french class called another a xanax-popping old lady or some such thing. Oooh, how the sparks flew! You don't mess with people who need tranquilizer prescriptions. If they could keep perspective on such things, they wouldn't have the prescription, right?
So I'm fine. This blog is now set to return to news commentary, music commentary and wine reviews.