An Injured American In Paris: Maitaitom's Christmas Miracle Trip
Jan 17th, 2007, 02:01 PM
#22
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Uh oh! Reminds me of the trip in September 2005 where, 3 hours after arriving at my home exchange in Bavaria, I tripped and fell and broke my ankle.
That trip was the home exchange from hell as the house was dirty and the car, which was an automatic (and the ankle broken was the left), had a myriad of problems and was basically dead on arrival.
Despite all of that--and learning German words for car and body parts--I managed to eke a vacation out of it. No, it wasn't the one I had envisioned, but it was a vacation nevertheless. I was able to take some one day bus trips from the town into Switzerland and Italy and also went to the Ludwig II musical in Fussen on the bus (fantastic, if you have not seen it). In addition, I went to two puppet shows at the Lindau Marionnettentheater. I was, however, very glad to finally get home because, when you have paid, the last place you want to be is away from home.
By the way German medical care was top notch and very inexpensive. The US could learn. The ankle, which was an in place fracture (and the third time I have done it to that ankle in the same place), healed just fine.
Not a fun trip.
Home yours was better Maitaitom and you did not get lost anywhere!
That trip was the home exchange from hell as the house was dirty and the car, which was an automatic (and the ankle broken was the left), had a myriad of problems and was basically dead on arrival.
Despite all of that--and learning German words for car and body parts--I managed to eke a vacation out of it. No, it wasn't the one I had envisioned, but it was a vacation nevertheless. I was able to take some one day bus trips from the town into Switzerland and Italy and also went to the Ludwig II musical in Fussen on the bus (fantastic, if you have not seen it). In addition, I went to two puppet shows at the Lindau Marionnettentheater. I was, however, very glad to finally get home because, when you have paid, the last place you want to be is away from home.
By the way German medical care was top notch and very inexpensive. The US could learn. The ankle, which was an in place fracture (and the third time I have done it to that ankle in the same place), healed just fine.
Not a fun trip.
Home yours was better Maitaitom and you did not get lost anywhere!
Jan 17th, 2007, 02:28 PM
#23
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Oh no, maitaitom! I'm so sorry to hear about the terrible start to your trip.
Was it gout?
I'm waiting impatiently with everybody else here to hear about the rest of your trip. I <b>do</b> hope it got better!
Was it gout?
I'm waiting impatiently with everybody else here to hear about the rest of your trip. I <b>do</b> hope it got better!
Jan 17th, 2007, 05:50 PM
#32
Original Poster
<b> DAYS ONE AND TWO: NIGHTMARE AT 38,000 FEET, DAWN OF THE DEAD, THE FERRIS IN PARIS AND THE KINDNESS OF STRANGERS </b>
About 45 minutes before takeoff, I had a momentary cause for optimism. I heard the ticket agent at Air Tahiti Nui say, “Could Mr. You Walk Like Walter Brennan please come to the counter? I have an acquaintance who works on projects with Air Tahiti Nui, so I was hoping against hope he might have upgraded us to first class. Alas, she only wanted to correct my passport number they had on file.
On board, the good news was that it seemed Air Tahiti Nui had a little more legroom than some other airlines I frequent. The bad news was I needed a lot more room than they could give me.
After watching Clint Eastwood blow up Hal Holbrook in Magnum Force and coming to the quick realization that I really suck at science trivia questions (I do love those television screens at every seat, though), I told Tracy I did not know how I was going to survive the trip.
Every attempted movement of my knee was worse than the previous move. I think tears were in my eyes, but I often get that way during Clint Eastwood movies. I told Tracy it felt like someone was hitting me in the knee with a ball-peen hammer (of course, I don’t really know what that feels like, but it sounded good). My beloved wife then took one for the team.
For the next seven hours or so, I put my leg up on Tracy’s lap, and she rubbed (very gently) my leg and knee. Between the Vicodin, a glass of wine (yes, I know you’re not supposed to do that) and just trying to block out the pain, the trip really is kind of a blur. I do remember the food on Air Tahiti Nui being good, and the flight attendants being very tolerant of my foot sticking out slightly into the aisle for most of the trip.
We arrived in Paris at 7:30 a.m. It was still dark, and I felt like Jack Bauer had just put me through some 24-like torture. I looked (and felt) like death. The cab ride into Paris only exacerbated the pain.
It was at this point, I had to make a decision; either be a whiner, or suck it up and make a go of it. I decided to suck it up. I also had a plan in the back of my head, but I hadn’t quite thought it out all the way.
It was a gorgeous, sunny morning in Paris, and our funny cab driver (complained a lot about the traffic in an interesting French/English mix) dropped us at the Hotel de Varenne in the seventh arrondissement. The hotel is located about a block from The Rodin Museum, and it was to be our home for the next eight nights.
The room was small, but clean, and the bathroom was more than adequate. Best of all, though, was the shower (our room had a shower curtain, by the way). It had great water pressure, and I ran hot water on my bad knee for about 15 minutes. Although I had not received much sleep for a few days, I felt strangely rejuvenated.
Tracy and I walked (well Tracy walked while I hobbled). We got our six-day museum pass (I’m nothing if not an optimist) and strolled through the garden. We had to take our requisite “Thinker” picture before we came to the conclusion that we were starving.
The nearest place was across from the Assemblé Nationale called Le Bourbon. It was nothing special, but lunch hit the spot (as did a little spot of vin rouge).
There was no way I was going to waste a day in Paris, so we walked to the Seine. I have been to Paris many times, but I never recall seeing a more beautiful day there during any season. It seemed like you could just reach out and touch the Eiffel Tower. The golden statues on the Seine glistened, and for the moment, I was feeling somewhat human.
Tracy asked if I wanted to go on, and, of course, the answer was positive. At the Place de Concorde, the big Ferris wheel was operating, and believing I was not going to get many pictures by climbing stairs on this trip, we went on it and got a few great Paris shots.
We pressed on up to the Madeleine, saw the Hermés horses sticking out of the windows, and stopped for a moment at Hédiard, where we always spend too much money when we come here. We walked through an outdoor passage nearby that was full of red Christmas trees, so I got the idea to take lots of Christmas decoration-type photos for my music trip video I make when I get home. I also had another idea…about my bad knee.
It was a long trek (for me) back to the hotel. I couldn’t even shorten the route by taking the metro, because I couldn’t navigate any stairs. It was frustrating, but I was trying not to let it get me down.
Back at the hotel, I told Tracy my convoluted plan. Our good friends, who we traveled to Italy with in 2005 (I didn’t drink all the vino trip) have a son who dates a girl whose dad is a doctor somewhere outside of Paris. If somehow I could get in touch with him, maybe he could get me in touch with a doctor in Paris. It had taken nearly a full day, but I finally got “the look” from Tracy.
I set the wheels in motion and e-mailed our friends in California where it was still early morning. Within the hour, our friends had called their son who called his girlfriend who called her father who we were told would be contacting us shortly at the hotel. When he called, he said he and his wife would come to the hotel to examine me. What a great world!
I told him not to inconvenience himself, but he would not take “no” for an answer.
Traffic was horrible that night, and it took him about two hours to get the hotel. I waited in the lobby with Soultan, the night reception person at the Hotel de Varenne (who was really a nice guy and very helpful). The doctor and his wife arrived about 9:30 p.m. He put some pressure on my knee, and, trying not to look like a wimp, I just grimaced in pain instead of yelling.
After a few minutes, he reached into his coat and gave me a packet of anti-inflammatory pills (which I am familiar with) a tube of anti-inflammatory ointment (which I have never seen in the U.S.) and some pills for my stomach to tolerate this new medicine. He said to take the pills twice a day and put the ointment on three times a day.
Then he said, “I’ll come back tomorrow afternoon and give you an injection of cortisone.” I told him he didn’t have to do that, but again, he would not take “no” for an answer.
After they left, I went up to the room, took the pills and rubbed the ointment on my incredibly painful knee. I woke up in the middle of the night and rubbed some more ointment on my knee.
Tracy said, “What are you doing?”
I laughed and said, “I’m rubbing some more of the Magic Cream on my knee (which still hurt like hell). As I tried to get in a comfortable position to get back to sleep, little did I know that when I awoke, I would be a firm believer in the Magic Cream.
<b> COMING UP – DAY THREE: ALL I KNEED IS A MIRACLE, THE BEST LITTLE CHURCH IN THE WORLD, DINING LIKE ITS 1699 AND THE SHOT HEARD ‘ROUND THE WORLD </b>
About 45 minutes before takeoff, I had a momentary cause for optimism. I heard the ticket agent at Air Tahiti Nui say, “Could Mr. You Walk Like Walter Brennan please come to the counter? I have an acquaintance who works on projects with Air Tahiti Nui, so I was hoping against hope he might have upgraded us to first class. Alas, she only wanted to correct my passport number they had on file.
On board, the good news was that it seemed Air Tahiti Nui had a little more legroom than some other airlines I frequent. The bad news was I needed a lot more room than they could give me.
After watching Clint Eastwood blow up Hal Holbrook in Magnum Force and coming to the quick realization that I really suck at science trivia questions (I do love those television screens at every seat, though), I told Tracy I did not know how I was going to survive the trip.
Every attempted movement of my knee was worse than the previous move. I think tears were in my eyes, but I often get that way during Clint Eastwood movies. I told Tracy it felt like someone was hitting me in the knee with a ball-peen hammer (of course, I don’t really know what that feels like, but it sounded good). My beloved wife then took one for the team.
For the next seven hours or so, I put my leg up on Tracy’s lap, and she rubbed (very gently) my leg and knee. Between the Vicodin, a glass of wine (yes, I know you’re not supposed to do that) and just trying to block out the pain, the trip really is kind of a blur. I do remember the food on Air Tahiti Nui being good, and the flight attendants being very tolerant of my foot sticking out slightly into the aisle for most of the trip.
We arrived in Paris at 7:30 a.m. It was still dark, and I felt like Jack Bauer had just put me through some 24-like torture. I looked (and felt) like death. The cab ride into Paris only exacerbated the pain.
It was at this point, I had to make a decision; either be a whiner, or suck it up and make a go of it. I decided to suck it up. I also had a plan in the back of my head, but I hadn’t quite thought it out all the way.
It was a gorgeous, sunny morning in Paris, and our funny cab driver (complained a lot about the traffic in an interesting French/English mix) dropped us at the Hotel de Varenne in the seventh arrondissement. The hotel is located about a block from The Rodin Museum, and it was to be our home for the next eight nights.
The room was small, but clean, and the bathroom was more than adequate. Best of all, though, was the shower (our room had a shower curtain, by the way). It had great water pressure, and I ran hot water on my bad knee for about 15 minutes. Although I had not received much sleep for a few days, I felt strangely rejuvenated.
Tracy and I walked (well Tracy walked while I hobbled). We got our six-day museum pass (I’m nothing if not an optimist) and strolled through the garden. We had to take our requisite “Thinker” picture before we came to the conclusion that we were starving.
The nearest place was across from the Assemblé Nationale called Le Bourbon. It was nothing special, but lunch hit the spot (as did a little spot of vin rouge).
There was no way I was going to waste a day in Paris, so we walked to the Seine. I have been to Paris many times, but I never recall seeing a more beautiful day there during any season. It seemed like you could just reach out and touch the Eiffel Tower. The golden statues on the Seine glistened, and for the moment, I was feeling somewhat human.
Tracy asked if I wanted to go on, and, of course, the answer was positive. At the Place de Concorde, the big Ferris wheel was operating, and believing I was not going to get many pictures by climbing stairs on this trip, we went on it and got a few great Paris shots.
We pressed on up to the Madeleine, saw the Hermés horses sticking out of the windows, and stopped for a moment at Hédiard, where we always spend too much money when we come here. We walked through an outdoor passage nearby that was full of red Christmas trees, so I got the idea to take lots of Christmas decoration-type photos for my music trip video I make when I get home. I also had another idea…about my bad knee.
It was a long trek (for me) back to the hotel. I couldn’t even shorten the route by taking the metro, because I couldn’t navigate any stairs. It was frustrating, but I was trying not to let it get me down.
Back at the hotel, I told Tracy my convoluted plan. Our good friends, who we traveled to Italy with in 2005 (I didn’t drink all the vino trip) have a son who dates a girl whose dad is a doctor somewhere outside of Paris. If somehow I could get in touch with him, maybe he could get me in touch with a doctor in Paris. It had taken nearly a full day, but I finally got “the look” from Tracy.
I set the wheels in motion and e-mailed our friends in California where it was still early morning. Within the hour, our friends had called their son who called his girlfriend who called her father who we were told would be contacting us shortly at the hotel. When he called, he said he and his wife would come to the hotel to examine me. What a great world!
I told him not to inconvenience himself, but he would not take “no” for an answer.
Traffic was horrible that night, and it took him about two hours to get the hotel. I waited in the lobby with Soultan, the night reception person at the Hotel de Varenne (who was really a nice guy and very helpful). The doctor and his wife arrived about 9:30 p.m. He put some pressure on my knee, and, trying not to look like a wimp, I just grimaced in pain instead of yelling.
After a few minutes, he reached into his coat and gave me a packet of anti-inflammatory pills (which I am familiar with) a tube of anti-inflammatory ointment (which I have never seen in the U.S.) and some pills for my stomach to tolerate this new medicine. He said to take the pills twice a day and put the ointment on three times a day.
Then he said, “I’ll come back tomorrow afternoon and give you an injection of cortisone.” I told him he didn’t have to do that, but again, he would not take “no” for an answer.
After they left, I went up to the room, took the pills and rubbed the ointment on my incredibly painful knee. I woke up in the middle of the night and rubbed some more ointment on my knee.
Tracy said, “What are you doing?”
I laughed and said, “I’m rubbing some more of the Magic Cream on my knee (which still hurt like hell). As I tried to get in a comfortable position to get back to sleep, little did I know that when I awoke, I would be a firm believer in the Magic Cream.
<b> COMING UP – DAY THREE: ALL I KNEED IS A MIRACLE, THE BEST LITTLE CHURCH IN THE WORLD, DINING LIKE ITS 1699 AND THE SHOT HEARD ‘ROUND THE WORLD </b>
Jan 17th, 2007, 06:03 PM
#33
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I got some of that magic cream to rub on my broken ankle; I still have some in the house. It didn't work very well. The problem was inside, not outside!
You know in Germany, they made me inject myself with antinflamatory drugs daily. Yes, I had to learn how to inject myself. It isn't as difficult as you think.
Maitaitom, I am really commiserating. I gather your problem eventually resolved itself. I had to wait about 2 months. By that time, I was home.
You know in Germany, they made me inject myself with antinflamatory drugs daily. Yes, I had to learn how to inject myself. It isn't as difficult as you think.
Maitaitom, I am really commiserating. I gather your problem eventually resolved itself. I had to wait about 2 months. By that time, I was home.
Jan 17th, 2007, 06:04 PM
#34
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Your trip reports are the best! You truly have a gift.
We rented a diesel car in Spain a few weeks ago, and thanks to one of your previous trip reports (perhaps I didn't drink all the vino), I paid close attention to make sure we put diesel in the car.
Waiting for the next installment...
We rented a diesel car in Spain a few weeks ago, and thanks to one of your previous trip reports (perhaps I didn't drink all the vino), I paid close attention to make sure we put diesel in the car.
Waiting for the next installment...
Jan 17th, 2007, 06:23 PM
#35
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Oh my, sympathetic twinges in my knee for you, Tom!
My husband already knows about that "shot heard round the world"..his was in the foot!
I hate to praise a spellbinder when it involves a true story of Pain but this is just great!
Hurry back ( hobble back?) and tell us more.
My husband already knows about that "shot heard round the world"..his was in the foot!
I hate to praise a spellbinder when it involves a true story of Pain but this is just great!
Hurry back ( hobble back?) and tell us more.
Jan 17th, 2007, 07:49 PM
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Oh no! Scrolled down after reading the second installment hoping to find the third. Groaned aloud because it's not there.
Holding my breath for the continuing story. Since you're on the West Coast, there may be hope for more tonight.
Hoping your knee is fine at this point.
Holding my breath for the continuing story. Since you're on the West Coast, there may be hope for more tonight.
Hoping your knee is fine at this point.
