No Ordinary Day

Today I received a lovely surprise in the way of an email from Bill. It contained an attachment of his account of a not so ordinary day in Limoux. I have been on at him for ages to write something and so now here it is.....

Tuesday, May 11th 2009.

A day like any other. It is term-time; Nicole and I are both at home. I finished my last assignment at the end of April and am scouting around for new work.

I start the day at 0610. Its getting light now and I make Nicole a cup of tea (he's such a good hubby - ed), make sure Sam is awake and do 20 minutes of exercises – my back is killing me after overdoing the strimming at the weekend.
I take Sam to the school bus for 7am for his trip to Carcassonne and then finish getting up while Nicole drops off Ellie and Douglas at their schools. We've invested in a 'scooter' for the older kids (and, incredibly, for our youngest when he turns 14 next year) but both of them have had minor accidents, skidding on gravel, so we are back in full chauffeur mode.

So the first task of the day is to ride the scooter down to the Peugeot dealer in town. It's a bit of a come-down since my big biking days, but still there is something exciting about being back on two-wheels. The handlebar has to be replaced; apparently a common problem when these bikes are dropped on their side. It's going to cost 117 € but it seems worth having the job done professionally; there's not much room for error on two wheels.

And then we set off for Carcassonne – to reclaim our repaired iron from Darty (it packed up after a couple of months of use) and to do battle with the Caisse d'Allocations Familiales (child benefit office) over our child allowance. First stop, CAF. It seemed rather unusual that all our contact so far had been by telephone, email and post – so we wondered if going in person might help to unblock the payments. No need. After about 20 seconds of waiting we were talking with a conseiller in front of a computer screen who instantly found all our records and informed us that our payments were on their way, back dated to the beginning of the year when I started paying my cotisations. What a result. Of course the money will be useful (especially as I don't yet know when my next job will be), but another sign of our inclusion and integration into the French administration is also very welcome.

Darty (think Dixons ) also goes smoothly. The iron returned and repaired within a matter of weeks (about 3 actually). Meanwhile we get a call from Sam saying that he wants to come home because it is not worth staying at school until 4pm for only one physics lesson. It doesn't seem much of a school day: one English lesson in the morning (where he is more of a resource person than a student), two hours of French cancelled (the teacher has gone for training) and Physics in the afternoon. It seems to happen too often – but at least it is not as bad as the universities which have been on strike for three months. Anyway, we agree to pick him up and take him home, partly because we are in town anyway, partly because his studies are going well and he is serious about them (generally speaking!).

It turns out to be a good decision. Arriving back at the house we find four trees lying in front of the garage door. We bought them ten days ago, to do something about the wind that blows if not constantly certainly regularly up the hillside from west. But their livraison seemed to be difficult for Jardifort. After a week I phoned to ask when they would be delivered and talked with someone who confessed to be so completely débordé (overwhelmed) that he could hardly take time to answer the phone let alone organise a delivery. I tried again yesterday and talked to someone else who said that they just couldn't even suggest when they might be able to deliver. So we were going to go in to see them on the way back from Carcassonne to cancel the order and ask for a repayment… Now Sam can help Dad dig them in. But lunch first…

Lunch was interrupted by a call from Senegal. A former colleague managing programmes for Save the Children in West Africa is looking for someone to help with the strategic positioning of their programme in Nigeria, where there are lots of opportunities to do good work but also lots of choices to make and risks to manage. Sounds right up my street. I hope it works out, but yesterday I also had an interview (by telephone) with UNDP and the Ministry of Planning and Investment in Lao PDR for a three month participatory planning consultancy which would also be very exciting and would mean I could consolidate some work I did there last year. Anyway, it is nice to be in demand. It is my first time in all my working life not to be employed by someone else. It takes a bit of getting used to: the void and uncertainty of not having work lined up and confirmed even over the next few months.

Although I do find it easy to fill the void!

This afternoon it is planting trees. Two of them (a silver birch and an acacia) are nearly four metres already. Instant gardening.

Sam and I work hard; the ground is hard and stony. We have to improve the soil, we have to stake the trees and we have to water them in. I surprise myself how much I look forward to rainy days (or preferably nights) – the water buts are almost empty and mains water is expensive. The gardening goes on into the evening, interrupted by supper and taking Sam to and then from the Aikido club. I hope that scooter comes back soon.

It is 9.30 pm and just light enough to take the dog for a walk around the fields and through the vines without a torch. She chases after the rabbits without success but with a lot of enthusiasm. By 10 o'clock everyone is ready for bed. It has been a busy day. Tomorrow will also be busy – but different. We have to draw the dimensions for the hole that the terrassier must dig for us to install the swimming pool. It's a big job – every time we read the manual we understand a bit more about the challenge ahead.

There are no ordinary days.

Bill

Healthy Reading

Having rarely visited the doctor since our time of living in Africa and Asia over the past 16 years, since living in France we are certainly making up for it.

When we were working in developing countries, our family rule was that we and the kids were "not allowed" to get sick. If we were, then out would come the self diagnosis books (think DIY healthy reading) and drug manuals and off we would go to the pharmacy if necessary. It is not as scary as it sounds as I 'used' to be a nurse and besides it was at times difficult to find the right doctor or the services that we needed.

Anyway roll the years forward to France and in our 8 short months here we have visited : various doctors, X-ray clinics, blood laboratory, specialists, physiotherapists, hospitals, pharmacies.....

I am ashamed to say that most of them are for me - the strong one in the family who is "never" sick. That does still hold true as most of it was for a skiing accident so I do feel that I am still holding my healthy record.

You know what they say about women in their 40's who hit the ski slopes during half term having not skied for years and who then cause mayhem on the piste? ....Yep that was me.

I was the one in the light blue jacket and purple hat who was rolly pollying past you at 100 kms an hour. OK 10km then.

However thinking about our health experiences here, we have been both delighted and frustrated. The delight comes in the efficiency of the health professionals and the health services and we have nothing but good things to say about them all.

Imagine going to visit your local doctor, being seen straight away (and with no appointment), getting a prescription for an x-ray and having that done straight away in the clinic up the road, receiving and having the results explained to you immediately, making an appointment with the specialist and being seen the next week at the time allocated (actually 2 minutes earlier) and then being offered surgery (if I want it!) for the following month. And so it goes on.

No waiting, excellent service and 10 out of 10 all round....except for the radiographer who made me have more x-rays than were prescribed and then charged me (a lot) for the pleasure.

Oh and the other interesting experience (again with the radiographer), was being sent into a cupboard with a man and being told to take all our clothes off (knickers allowed) and to stand there feeling naked and vulnerable until it was 'our turn'. Thankfully the other man was my husband otherwise it could have been interesting.

What I find interesting here in France is how the health professionals seem to work very much on their own in a private practice but who are reimbursed by the state. The local doctor is often a one-man band who answers the phone, sees the patients, does all the paperwork and who cleans up at the end of the day. It explains why it is near impossible to make an appointment over the phone - there's no one to answer it.

The same goes with the local physiotherapists and nurses who seem to be dotted everywhere. Just in our small town of Limoux which has a population of 10,000, we have 22 general doctors, 18 physiotherapists, 11 district nurses, 7 pharmacies, 7 ambulance taxis, 2 x-ray clinics, 1 laboratory plus more.

Are we a sick town or maybe the French just like to keep healthy?

So as you can see we are more than happy with the French health services but if we were to talk about French health care bureaucracy, well maybe a grumble or two is in order. Fill in this, fill out that, send it here, send it there.....and still we are only advancing one incy wincy step at a time.

Basically all we want is to be "IN" the French health care system. We are paying for it (heftily) and our sole aim right now is to get that 'Little Green Card'. The very coveted green card that says you are "IN".

The other day we made what we thought was a big advance when we received 'The Paper'. The magic paper with a big long number on it which is apparently the step before the card. Clap hands everyone.

However quite a few health professionals seem to turn their nose up at it and we get get the "Gives us the card or give us the money" treatment.

So as the money is being handed over left right and center I am beginning to wonder whether I should just go back to my DIY medical books.

In the meantime, other important things are beginning to sprout, such as the garden which has just gone wild. Bill is around for a few more weeks before he rushes off on an assignment so he is busy cutting, trimming, planting and watering. I get the grotty bits like weeding.

It all looks fabulous though and it's like discovering treasure each time something else appears.


Next Time: Working or Gardening - I can't decide. How about 'Working in the Garden' then?