Well, what is it they say about the number 13?
Bit of a train crash going on here folks.
My toothache turns out to be a tooth abscess, I managed to get through the day last Thursday, November 4th , which was good in parts and about which I shall post soon because I think it was interesting and nice pix. but I need to catch you up with latest developments first: so on Thursday afternoon I bought some antibiotics and had to retire to bed .
And being me, with such a sensitive constitution, I reacted badly to them. Vomiting, temperature, chemically induced migraine, the works. A dreadful night, feeling like death, all alone and knowing that my French was not up to telling a French dentist about all my allergies. Of course the first thing you want to do in such circumstances is to go home, to your own bed, your own doctors etc but I was far too ill to travel. I spoke to husband on the Friday morning who, like a trooper, went to see our Dentist in the UK to discuss medication, and I spoke to our Doctor too, and they both agreed that they would prescribe for me over the phone but that without the prescription in my hand I would not be able to get them in France. So husband contacts couriers: the fastest would take five days because it was over a weekend.
So he looks up bus timetables, organises cover for the animals, and catches a bus from Sheffield to Paris, going through the tunnel, leaving home at half past midnight on Friday and arriving at my flat at four fifty on Saturday afternoon, for the same price as the courier would have cost. Despite the dreadful reaction to those antibiotics they have done wonders in calming the tooth down and as soon as I am recovered from the side effects I need to begin on the next ones before the tooth has a chance to get really bad again.
One of the effects of the antibiotics was that I had an ‘accident’ in the bed on Thursday night so at two in the morning, teeth aching, temperature, dizzy, blinding migraine, vomiting, I had to strip the bed, the mattress protector, the valance, the sheets etc and begin to rinse them out in the bath since the washing washing in the flat cannot wash bedding, the load is too heavy apparently. Dire does not begin to cover it. I just wanted to die quietly in my sleep and wondered why I had ever had the gall to think I could manage this trip with my problems.
Pride coming before a fall I suppose.
Well, when husband turned up, he took over cleaning everything more thoroughly for me, did some shopping and generally provided moral support. I managed to take some anti migraine painkillers this morning and keep them down so am not feeling quite so deathly now, and the company was lovely, but he had to leave this morning to look after the animals and carry on with some work he has in hand. This time the coach goes on the ferry so it will take longer but he is looking forward to the sea trip although apparently it was very interesting how coaches and buses are handled through the tunnel.
He mentioned that my friend’s, friend’s husband had just died and that he thought it very unlikely that she would be coming next week.
I have just heard from my friends here in Paris that her husband is not feeling well and needs to go back to the States so they are spending the morning trying to book tickets for flights as soon as possible. One of my main reasons for coming was to be able to spend time with them, and spend it with them in Paris.
What is going on with us all?
At the moment everything feels like it is falling apart but we’ll clench our teeth and hang on in there if possible. But I am so disappointed, I cannot begin to say.
Keep your fingers crossed for us all, please.