Well it happened, didn’t it? I went, she went and they (the dogs) went.
Me to Nottingham via the tunnel and the story of all that for another time in another place, Jules and Opie to the pension at St. Martial where all the Dobies go in the waiting room., and Fran of course to the care home for her week’s holiday.
It all seemed very nice there and she was settled in the easy chair by a nurse who took all her particulars, although mainly from me. Apart from the language difficulty Fran speaks very little these days and understands even less, even in English. Left alone for a while together she remained expressionless, this is not unusual now, and I did not take it as any sort of comment on her being in a strange place.
On my return the following Monday I was early by a few hours than the 2pm stipulated and had to wait while they got her ready and packed up. I took a wheelchair up with me and I searched the room numbers for 110 on all the doors. The room ahead of me had its door open with an old lady sitting on a wheelchair facing the opening, but it wasn’t Fran. The head was tilted to one side so I looked at the number before moving on. 110, it was her, No big welcome despite my fuss and kisses, so I grabbed her bags and headed for the exit. I had great difficulty in getting her into the car seat, she seemd unable to shuffle her feet close enough for the turn and drop but we did manage it safely. Once in I had a problem in getting her to sit upright, it was not only her head that was leaning to the left.
Sometime later it was time for food. After she had her pill and a drink with her meds in it, she never drinks it all in one go, I offered her the usual bowl of porridge. She loves it but this time was unable to eat it herself, seemed unable to lift her arm more than an inch or so. I didn’t think it was a stroke, I have seen those before, but, together with the lean and head tilt I did sense something wrong and, on Christine’s advice, called the SAMU. The American woman on the phone asked pertinent questions and then asked me to hang on while she consulted their doctor before returning to me to say that she should go to Urgence and that the Pompiers were on their way.
They were here within 15 minutes and, after the usual tests and receiving phone advice , set off with her to Perigueux.
Impressive as always I should explain why I did not follow my own previous advice to ring the Pompiers direct. I really did not think it was an emergency, just a worry and I wanted advice first, which is exactly what I got from the SAMU doctor.
That was Monday evening. I was told that they would be making tests and that she would be there at least till Wednesday. So it was that I went there to see a doctor in the neurologie department at her request yesterday. Fran’s appearance was a bit of a shock, her grey hair, normally so well groomed by our regular visitors was in a tangled mess spread out over her shoulders and she was connected to various tubes etc. I tried to talk cheerfully about things at home and the long video that I had made of the 2 Great Grandsons that she has never met, in Nottingham. No reaction at all. When she tried to speak I had to press my ear to her lips to finally understand that she wanted a drink. I called a nurse who brought her a fruit drink and fed it to her.
The doctor did come and seemed surprised that I had been told she wanted to see me, not the other way round. But I did get the impression that they were worried that I was the only person who could authorise any serious action they think necessary to take. She mentioned heart and lung problems and the fact that, in an emergency they couldn’t perform normal CPR on her as she was so fragile.
Christine had been in touch with them on my behalf, mentioning my hearing difficulties and emphasising my age in order for them to treat her as a port of first call if they needed to get hold of me. They had initially, and understandably, been reluctant to deal through her, but I hope that we have that sorted now.
I went again today to see Fran but also because on my way home yesterday the Assistante Sociale at the hospital had phoned me and asked for a meeting at 3pm to ‘discuss her return home’. I agreed and set off in good time though worrying about the increasing heat and the dogs in the car. Risking theft I left them with 2 windows and one sliding door open but I will have to rethink in future. I was banking on a quick visit and a brief meeting with Fran, but it was not to be. The secretariat denied all knowledg of me and the hardfaced woman shut the door in my face after telling me to sit down. 15 minutes later with no movement I was getting increasingly worried. One woman passed by and on my appeal promised to find out what was happening. Nothing. The another who ignored me altogether, until I said I could wait no longer and mentioned the plight of the dogs. So she knocked on a door and I was in, face to face with the woman I was supposed to meet half an hour before.
I wasn’t pleased to discover that this 100 km round trip was mainly for her to know how I would pay the journalier. The daily non-medical stay in the hospital. Did she have a mutuelle, no, we have before been presented with a bill some days after leaving, which we have paid immediately. At the time it was €20 a day, no doubt it will be more now. Barely a mention was made of the arrangements for returning home but she was impressed with the support we have been given and I departed, not a lttle angry and unable to risk a moment longer away from the dogs to visit Fran. I know she wouldn’t expect, or probably, know me, but whether or not it will have to wait untill tomorrow. I will have to leave the dogs alone in the house, there will be a cool breeze from my open bedroom window to the kitchen veranda sliders. I don’t like to lock them in but I can’t risk someone innocently opening the gates and letting them out so will have to chance it.
but many, many times a day. Every single time I visit in fact. So often do I check that there is never any need to mark spam as spam as I know it is all the same to me. 
