les Davey de France

Alan and Pat live and work in Bordeaux. Alan is a pastor and Pat was a nurse. Now we work with UFM worldwide. Read on! (If you'd like to know what took us to Bordeaux, then start with the archives from September 2004)

Wednesday, March 03, 2021

Well it's all behind me

 Friend Rory drove me to the hospital bright and early, I was admitted and shown to my room. 

"Change into this - it opens at the back - and put these on your feet."

The nurse took my blood pressure (élevé) and tried to pop a canula in my arm (ça ne marche pas) then said they'd come and get me presently.

After a while two fine chaps came and took me to the pre-op room. On the way we argued about the rugby and the fact that Wales was sure to beat the French and win the grand slam (grand chelem, not to be confused with grande hlm, which means a large block of flats). The game probably won't be played anyway because the French team is currently a cluster of covid infections.

In the pre-op room they took my blood pressure (moins élevé), checked I hadn't forgotten my name or birthday then put in a canula (ça marche) and wired me up ready for ecg. They told me that someone was currently being done, then it would be my turn. Everyone checked my state of preparation and so on (when did you last eat, when did you last drink, have you taken your stuff, what has been the result).

At 9:00 the nurses wheeled me into the endoscopy room, I was wired up and positioned and they checked I had not forgotten my name and date of birth before being sending me off to sleep. "Don't ask me to count down from 100 to 1, please. It's too complicated in French." "You don't have to count at all. Just go to sleep and dream of bananas" they said.

I woke in a big room with lots of beds, slightly confused about where I was and how I got there, aware of having had pleasant dreams that I couldn't quite remember and feeling extremely refreshed! As for discomfort in the area under examination, there was nothing.

It was 9:45. "Bonjour", I said. Nurses came and checked I had not forgotten my name or date of birth. The endoscopist came up. "Est-ce que vous avez vu de belles choses?" I asked. "Tout c'est très bien passé. Y'a rien. Prochaine fois dans cinq ans."

I lay there enjoying the fact that the procedure was over and observing my falling blood pressure on the monitor behind me. "We'll take you down soon." "I'm in no rush!" It was true. 

In due course my rugby loving friends came to wheel me back down to my room after checking that I had not forgotten my name or date of birth. The nurse appeared and checked whether I had forgotten my name or date of birth, then took my temperature and blood pressure. (élevé) "You should check that machine, it was lower upstairs". It's probably me then, said the nurse cheerfully. 

"Get dressed, but easy does it, then you can come down for breakfast." Rory was waiting for me, but I still enjoyed my coffee, toasts with strawberry jam with pips in (first pips since Saturday), orange juice with pulp in (first pulp since Saturday), compote de pommes (first apples since Saturday) and chocolate wafers (first chocolate since Saturday). "The worst thing about all this is the diet beforehand" I told the nurse, "you really appreciate your fruit and veg". "Too true", she said.

"Now you do nothing today, nothing. Don't sign anything - it's not legally valid if you do, no diy, no ladders, nothing. And tomorrow do next to nothing." Then off to the office for my discharge sheet and my report.

The report said that I had prepared perfectly, they had examined everywhere and everything was normal. Next time in five years.

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