Well nothings starts an adventure in a new city than a ride to the emergency room in Paris France. I had such a good start on my trip as I took the cheap 50 duhram cab to the airport, the flight was non eventful.
A painful arrival in Paris which is too bad as I was looking forward to it. The flight was non eventful, although I did break out in a cold sweat on the bus ride into town (train was outta service). Saved money, rather than a 60euro cab ride but thought it had to do with the trmperature change from 70's to 30's from Marrakech to Paris and that I had to ride backwards on the bus...not my favorite position....more on that later. Anyway with the time change my flight arrived about 11pm and once I got off the bus in town I was lucky in travel and found a cab that was disgorging passengers as I stood totally lost in the middle of the street as I had no idea where the city bus had dropped me off or where the heck the hostel was in comparrision to where the bus had dropped me. Another of my travelers dilema's (bad planning on my part)...but lucky for me all the travel gods aligned and it was only 10 euro for the bus and 10 euro for the cab...saved 40 euro which delivered me right to the hostel doorstep. All was going well and check in was a breeze but as I settled into my dorm I began to feel a significant pain in my lower right side...way down almost to my groin which was weird.
I chalked the pain up to gas and ran down the hall several times as my dorm was at one end of the hall and the bathroom (shared) was at the other end of the hall (18 doors down the long cold hallway...this becomes more significant as this tale unfolds. Needless to say during the night this lower abdomen pain continued to get worse....and worse....and worse....soo much that before I passed out or worse screamed out in pain thus disturbing my roomates I dragged myself down two flights of stairs as waiting for the elevator was more painful than to keep moving; to the front desk and asked them to call for medical assitance. this is at 5:30am....the reception was possibly not accustomed to an American who just checked in the night before presenting themselves holding their side like I had a stab wound, crying yet coherent, asking for the ambulance to be called due to sharp lower bowel excrutiating pain. How is that for a blog intro...oh it gets better.
The receptionist was immediately on the phone in French to the emergency room, while I have now had to lay on the floor in front of the reception desk in the fetal position moaning and she is asking me all sorts of questions about my medical condition. I at this time barely remember this whole lead up of events as the next I rememeber I am in the back of the EMT vehicle with sirens blaring headed to what I hope is internal organ relief...without the removal of any internal organs. Once in the ambulance a very nice blond blue eyed young technician assured me that I would live...I guess in my daze and tears I may have asked my survival chances a few dozen times as I felt like the Alien and all his relatives were about to come screaming out of my gut. Needless to say as an American coming into the seedy...not so pristine ambulance bay at a hospital that is not the largest, best equiped or prestigeous so I was told later; was quite a thrill for the teaching hospital staff. They were all very nice and gave me a morphine drip for my pain....needless to say my first day in Paris I was stoned outa my mind but at least I didin't feel the excrutiating pain in my gut. After a sonagram, MRI, bloodwork and IV of fluids...ok 3 IV's for pain, I was allowed to leave with a few additional tabs of pain medication and confidence that I would continue to live a full and healthy life.
Of course the meds allowed me to throw up any and all liquids/solid food that I attempted to eat in order to take my meds that evening and into the next morning. This is where the bathroom at the far end of the hall came into play resulting into a rather humorous dash for the bathroom several times the second night I was back at the hosel. I'm sure my roommates thought I was a drug user who was coming down off a bad high as I did all i could to stifle my moans of pain awaiting the next tab of medication to kick in and then of course be thrown up. Not a pretty sight and exhaustion was the word of the day. By evening around 6pm I returned from the hospital and though I was cured only to know that morphene does a number on your digestive system mostly by expelling anthing that you attempt to put into it. As I felt very dehydrated and had not had a meal in almost 48 hours I signed up for the cheap eats at the hostel 6euro....yeah bad idea after being on the morphene drip for the day as fortunately my hostel is right on a canal that fortunately the restaturant has a doorway that was unlocked with a very small patio where I could walk swiftly outside and purge my few nibbles of food and few drops of water that I had attempted to consume....really pretty dinner fun....NOT!
Needless to say I have survived the experience...My side still hurts but I think it is more due to the probing, poking, sonogram, jabbing during the questioning process of does this hurt...does this hurt...well now the original pain has subsided but I feel I may now have internal injuries from the hospital exam...lol. At least at this point I can laugh about it...Oh and what was determined was that I had a Kidney stone that needed to pass which it never did from what I know about such things, but the stabbing pain is no more...so until next time....I will be drinking liquids like crazy and hope for the best.
The moral of this travel tale has nothing to do with travel to Morocco; however it does have to do with someone who has lost close to 10 lbs in a week, eating only when you are hungry...yeah 3 square meals is not a travelers agenda...you eat when you are hungry and drink when you are thirsty...Note to self plan meal time into your day of exploration. i guess that i really never thought about being hungry as I wasn't and I did eat breakfast (pancake, break, jelly, orange juice (fresh squeezed), coffee), I always had luch from the Berberman...it's a joke at the hostal og going to the sandwichshop for a close proximity to a subway sandwich and frittes and then dinner around 10pm at Aisha's stall #1 in the market for skewers (chicken & beef...I think...lol)...so my emergency situation was more from lack of liquids rather than lack of nourishment. I'm learning that the face that my 29 inch waist jeans that are now being worn with my belt on the last notch is a lesson of warning....drink liquids or suffer painful Aliens trying to escape your abdomen. Lesson learned!
I can't say enough how blessed I am that Paris has nationalized/socialized whatever kind of medicine or my term CIVILIZED medicine. Yeah, I may have been taken to the Parkland of Paris, it definately was not Baylor...and yes I do have travel insurance for just such emergencies, but rather than having to take a number and wait in excrutiating pain in a foreign waiting room for my ailment to be addressed I was rushed with alot of attention of quite a few Dr's not just students or for that matter cleaning crew and did I mention that the hospital actually sent a Dr to the hostel once the EMT team who didn't speak English could not determine what to do for me. When was the last time any of you ever had a Dr make a house call?? Think about this next time you feel ill and wish to gosh someone would attend to your medical needs. I feel very blessed for the attention that I received and will write a strongly worded letter to the Head of Medicine at the hospital when I return thanking the team for ensuring my survival so that I would live to continue my travels for another day. It would suck to die my first day in Paris...especially after 317 days of perfect health on the road...less one day (food poisoning) in India and 1 day of sinus infection (pollution) in Thailand. My life is good and I am blessed to be healthy and still on the road for the next few weeks.
A painful arrival in Paris which is too bad as I was looking forward to it. The flight was non eventful, although I did break out in a cold sweat on the bus ride into town (train was outta service). Saved money, rather than a 60euro cab ride but thought it had to do with the trmperature change from 70's to 30's from Marrakech to Paris and that I had to ride backwards on the bus...not my favorite position....more on that later. Anyway with the time change my flight arrived about 11pm and once I got off the bus in town I was lucky in travel and found a cab that was disgorging passengers as I stood totally lost in the middle of the street as I had no idea where the city bus had dropped me off or where the heck the hostel was in comparrision to where the bus had dropped me. Another of my travelers dilema's (bad planning on my part)...but lucky for me all the travel gods aligned and it was only 10 euro for the bus and 10 euro for the cab...saved 40 euro which delivered me right to the hostel doorstep. All was going well and check in was a breeze but as I settled into my dorm I began to feel a significant pain in my lower right side...way down almost to my groin which was weird.
I chalked the pain up to gas and ran down the hall several times as my dorm was at one end of the hall and the bathroom (shared) was at the other end of the hall (18 doors down the long cold hallway...this becomes more significant as this tale unfolds. Needless to say during the night this lower abdomen pain continued to get worse....and worse....and worse....soo much that before I passed out or worse screamed out in pain thus disturbing my roomates I dragged myself down two flights of stairs as waiting for the elevator was more painful than to keep moving; to the front desk and asked them to call for medical assitance. this is at 5:30am....the reception was possibly not accustomed to an American who just checked in the night before presenting themselves holding their side like I had a stab wound, crying yet coherent, asking for the ambulance to be called due to sharp lower bowel excrutiating pain. How is that for a blog intro...oh it gets better.
The receptionist was immediately on the phone in French to the emergency room, while I have now had to lay on the floor in front of the reception desk in the fetal position moaning and she is asking me all sorts of questions about my medical condition. I at this time barely remember this whole lead up of events as the next I rememeber I am in the back of the EMT vehicle with sirens blaring headed to what I hope is internal organ relief...without the removal of any internal organs. Once in the ambulance a very nice blond blue eyed young technician assured me that I would live...I guess in my daze and tears I may have asked my survival chances a few dozen times as I felt like the Alien and all his relatives were about to come screaming out of my gut. Needless to say as an American coming into the seedy...not so pristine ambulance bay at a hospital that is not the largest, best equiped or prestigeous so I was told later; was quite a thrill for the teaching hospital staff. They were all very nice and gave me a morphine drip for my pain....needless to say my first day in Paris I was stoned outa my mind but at least I didin't feel the excrutiating pain in my gut. After a sonagram, MRI, bloodwork and IV of fluids...ok 3 IV's for pain, I was allowed to leave with a few additional tabs of pain medication and confidence that I would continue to live a full and healthy life.
Of course the meds allowed me to throw up any and all liquids/solid food that I attempted to eat in order to take my meds that evening and into the next morning. This is where the bathroom at the far end of the hall came into play resulting into a rather humorous dash for the bathroom several times the second night I was back at the hosel. I'm sure my roommates thought I was a drug user who was coming down off a bad high as I did all i could to stifle my moans of pain awaiting the next tab of medication to kick in and then of course be thrown up. Not a pretty sight and exhaustion was the word of the day. By evening around 6pm I returned from the hospital and though I was cured only to know that morphene does a number on your digestive system mostly by expelling anthing that you attempt to put into it. As I felt very dehydrated and had not had a meal in almost 48 hours I signed up for the cheap eats at the hostel 6euro....yeah bad idea after being on the morphene drip for the day as fortunately my hostel is right on a canal that fortunately the restaturant has a doorway that was unlocked with a very small patio where I could walk swiftly outside and purge my few nibbles of food and few drops of water that I had attempted to consume....really pretty dinner fun....NOT!
Needless to say I have survived the experience...My side still hurts but I think it is more due to the probing, poking, sonogram, jabbing during the questioning process of does this hurt...does this hurt...well now the original pain has subsided but I feel I may now have internal injuries from the hospital exam...lol. At least at this point I can laugh about it...Oh and what was determined was that I had a Kidney stone that needed to pass which it never did from what I know about such things, but the stabbing pain is no more...so until next time....I will be drinking liquids like crazy and hope for the best.
The moral of this travel tale has nothing to do with travel to Morocco; however it does have to do with someone who has lost close to 10 lbs in a week, eating only when you are hungry...yeah 3 square meals is not a travelers agenda...you eat when you are hungry and drink when you are thirsty...Note to self plan meal time into your day of exploration. i guess that i really never thought about being hungry as I wasn't and I did eat breakfast (pancake, break, jelly, orange juice (fresh squeezed), coffee), I always had luch from the Berberman...it's a joke at the hostal og going to the sandwichshop for a close proximity to a subway sandwich and frittes and then dinner around 10pm at Aisha's stall #1 in the market for skewers (chicken & beef...I think...lol)...so my emergency situation was more from lack of liquids rather than lack of nourishment. I'm learning that the face that my 29 inch waist jeans that are now being worn with my belt on the last notch is a lesson of warning....drink liquids or suffer painful Aliens trying to escape your abdomen. Lesson learned!
I can't say enough how blessed I am that Paris has nationalized/socialized whatever kind of medicine or my term CIVILIZED medicine. Yeah, I may have been taken to the Parkland of Paris, it definately was not Baylor...and yes I do have travel insurance for just such emergencies, but rather than having to take a number and wait in excrutiating pain in a foreign waiting room for my ailment to be addressed I was rushed with alot of attention of quite a few Dr's not just students or for that matter cleaning crew and did I mention that the hospital actually sent a Dr to the hostel once the EMT team who didn't speak English could not determine what to do for me. When was the last time any of you ever had a Dr make a house call?? Think about this next time you feel ill and wish to gosh someone would attend to your medical needs. I feel very blessed for the attention that I received and will write a strongly worded letter to the Head of Medicine at the hospital when I return thanking the team for ensuring my survival so that I would live to continue my travels for another day. It would suck to die my first day in Paris...especially after 317 days of perfect health on the road...less one day (food poisoning) in India and 1 day of sinus infection (pollution) in Thailand. My life is good and I am blessed to be healthy and still on the road for the next few weeks.
