Wacky doctor

We all have the cold that seems to be making its tour of France and we all feel pretty miserable. Little S barely wants to eat anything and last night he walked into the bathroom to brush his teeth and the next minute he was decorating my nice, clean floors with his dinner. It was so sudden and dramatic that it shocked me. I just sat there shouting for Seb to come quickly and he was mad at me when he saw it was just vomit. I guess I don't do kids vomit well.

Over a week ago we saw a doctor chosen randomly from the phone book and we all went together. The office was in the doctors house which is something I always find weird in France. I guess as an American we long ago made the distinct separation from the doctor and his personal life, probably why medicine is so dehumanized in the US, but it's my world where I'm used to going to a large clinic with maybe three doctors and a few of nurses buzzing about. In France I usually try to find a doctor who resembles this world by choosing a doctor in practice with another doctor, in a medical center and in a clean, modern office. I usually like it if there's a secretary too because I don't like having to sit there while doctor answers his own phone and gives his advice to another patient while I wait there and have to listen. It feels invasive to hear someone else's medical problems discussed in front of me. After that I try to find the doctors who don't dole out antibiotics too readily and lean towards a homeopathic mentality. I always have a hard time switching doctors in France when we move because of all my picky criteria, which is why when we entered this doctor's office or err, house I was completely shocked. There were papers all over his desk stacked a foot high. His floor had mud tracks and dust balls piled high in the corners, his chairs were dirty and ripped and he actually had to look on the floor in a pile of old computer wires for his stethoscope. I was ready to walk out but I couldn't think of a reason. He was a nice enough guy but I was completely shocked. There were things everywhere, old computers from 15 years ago, boxes of medical supplies covered in dust, medical equipment with screws missing taken apart on the floor. I couldn't believe he could stay in practice.

When we left I said to myself, he must not have any patients but on leaving there were two people waiting in his makeshift lobby and they looked, well...normal. I felt like I fell into a wacky sort of vortex. It's the worst doctor experience I've ever had in France. The doctor didn't even take anyone's temperature (in this case, thankfully I suppose), didn't wash his hands before examining Little S and didn't have any paper covering the exam table. I was completely shocked because my doctor in Th*n*n always makes great show of washing his hands before examining us. What was up with this guy?

I was taken back to my French family who was so worried about us being in Mexico and finding good doctors. Lots of people in fact seemed overly concerned about the care we would receive in this "third world country" we were running off to. The doctors we saw in Mexico even put the most pristine American doctors offices to shame. They were a little too medical for my tastes but I never saw dust balls under the exam table and they washed their hands or wore gloves when they examined us.

This has happened to me once or twice in France, the wacky doctor thing. I'm not a germ crazy American or anti-French. I'm eternally grateful for my medical care but I just wonder if the medical community in France doesn't need a little regulating from time to time.