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| Sweeping View of the French Riviera |
David and I took our long-delayed-by-covid trip to the French Riviera by a circuitous route. With headlines full of aviation mishaps, we opted for a safer and more scenic water route with a transatlantic Holland America cruise from Fort Lauderdale, Florida to Barcelona, Spain.
After a wonderful cruise and four idyllic days exploring some of the delights Barcelona has to offer, we were packing our suitcases to prepare for our flight in a few hours to Nice on the French Riviera. I placed my carry-on on the bed to make packing easier. I thought I'd perched on the edge of the bed, but the bed tossed me on to the floor.
I landed hard on my left hip.
It hurt. Badly.
But, I thought that with time the pain would go away and David and I could still have the idyllic vacation we had been anticipating for five years.
The flight to Nice was agonizing, but it was even more painful trying to get from the cab to our Airbnb on a pedestrian-only street. I couldn't stop the grimace of pain with every step — the French people we encountered on the street reached out hands to help.
We kept our pre-arranged tour of the French Riviera towns the next day, but I stayed mostly in the van or on benches while David explored.
By Friday night, I told David we had to get help. The pain had become unendurable, and the nurse I consulted via my insurance company hotline* bluntly said, “I don't want to scare you, but you need immediate care.” She added that I would need x-rays.
Ordinarily we would have asked our Airbnb host for recommendations for a clinic, but it was unneccessary in this case because there was a green cross sign on a building across the street indicating a drugstore where we were certain to find an English-speaking, advice-giving pharmacist.
David went there Saturday morning and was told a clinic —with x-ray facilities — was available one block away. David led the way and I hobbled behind. That's when our true adventure in French medicine began.
The front desk clerks heard my story, said the doctor would be happy to see me, and added that there was a €50 charge. Since my urgent care back in Arizona charges $65 a visit, I didn't mind the fee.
The doctor saw me a few minutes later, pushed and prodded places on my back and said she didn't think it was broken, but only an x-ray could tell for sure. Unfortunately, their x-ray technician did not work on Saturdays so my only option was to go to a hospital emergency room. The clerk called a cab for us. Before we left, we also got prescriptions for two medicines which cost less than €15.00: one for pain as I could barely walk at that point and one for Tylenol or Paracetamol as it's called in France.
After a €30 cab ride (more expensive because it was “called for” rather than being hailed on the street), we arrived at the hospital that two AI searches had revealed to be the best in Nice.
I checked in, providing proof of my identity and address and waited. And waited some more. And waited even longer.
After several hours, we found out we were waiting in the wrong part of the emergency room. After we were directed to the correct spot, we were called in thirty minutes.
The doctor did more pushing on my back, said I should have x-rays, and sent me via a wheelchair to the x-ray waiting room where I talked to another patient from Sri Lanka who showed me photos of his wife and children. After another hour's wait, the x-rays were taken and I waited some more. Finally the doctor appeared, said I had no broken bones but a deep bruise that would take four to eight weeks to heal, and gave me another prescription for the French version of Tylenol called Paracetamol.
He told me to go to one of the windows where I could collect my bill. This was the only thing that happened quickly in this hospital. When I asked the clerk where I should pay, she told me to go to the finance office on the second floor.
When David and I looked for the elevator, a woman who spoke good English told us it was broken and we'd have to take the stairs. I looked at her in despair. After hours of sitting, I could barely move let alone walk up a flight of steps.
When I told her stairs were impossible, her response surprised me. She said, “Just go ahead and walk out. Nobody really expects you to pay since this is the hospital for people who don't have insurance.”
What followed was a surreal exit worthy of a French film.
David and I hesitated as we'd never not paid a bill in our lives, but there was also no way we wanted to spend a minute longer in this place with no way to navigate to the second floor. So, we did what the French woman said and walked out, trying to act casual but looking over our shoulders all the way. I thought the police would grab us any moment and wondered what a jail cell would do to my aching back, but, no one stopped us even though we walked right past the man who'd taken my address information hours ago.
Another €30 cab ride got us to our Airbnb long after this Saturday ordeal began.
After a nap and some food, we decided we might as well return to Tucson early. There was no point staying in the beautiful Côte d'Azur if I couldn't leave the apartment.
We changed our flight arrangements. Since I'd used frequent flyer miles, it only cost me 21,000 more miles to arrange a return flight for a week earlier, and, David, who'd used cash to pay for his ticket, got a $20.00 credit for some reason we have yet to understand.
An MRI back in Tucson revealed a vertical fracture of the sacrum which seldom shows up on an X-ray, so I can't fault the French for not finding it. But I am still grateful to the French medical profession for being compassionate and for the medicine that helped me get through the worst nights.
I am also grateful their socialized medicine seems, as it did sixteen years ago when my friend broke her leg, to extend either free or reasonable prices to foreigners.
So although a broken back wasn’t how I planned to test my theory, I’m relieved to say it held true: travel insurance would’ve cost me nearly $500—but the French healthcare system charged just $125.
Practicalities -
*On our cell phones, we use Boost Internet for $20 a month, but, for this trip we added Global Roaming for an additional $20. It proved to be invaluable as we could place calls to the States and also anywhere in Europe. We were able to cancel the roaming plan when we got home.
If you worry about the quality of medical care abroad, bear in mind that many countries rank higher than the US. In fact, in some polls the US is ranked 15th while other polls say 25th.
Never hesitate to ask a European pharmacist for help or advice. They are able to dispense drugs over-the-counter that would require a prescription in the US. For example, a pharmacist suggested some Voltaren (diclofenic sodium) patches for my back which helped enormously. They are unavailable in the States without a script.
What a nightmare!! Apparently the medical care was more than adequate, but getting to the place to pay bills agony. O hope nyour recovery is rapid and that I will see you soon! Anne
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