Carry on Nurse

This morning at breakfast, a sumptuous farmhouse feast, I asked our hostess, Sophie, about having a blood test that my doctor in Tucson wanted me to have about now. I have blood clots in the calf of one leg, thanks to a surgery on its meniscus, and I'm on the generic version of the blood-thinner coumadin for three to six months until the clots, we hope, disappear.

Sophie said we could go to the hospital in Cahors, where we'd planned to go anyway, and she called ahead to set up the drop-in appointment.  With Jacques' help, we managed to find the hospital, only to be greeted by blank stares by the receptionists. Then, using our high school French and sign language, we managed to find someone who remembered hearing about Sophie's call, and a nurse appeared, needle in hand. This was no pin-prick of the needle and an instant readout, as I'd had in Tucson. A full vial of blood was needed and sent to the lab.

Meanwhile, the nurse began recommending restaurants near our B and B that we must try. We finally recognized the word "truffle," and learned that a place just ten minutes from where we're staying was THE place to go. For a mere 130 Euros ($170) each, we could have an entree, main plate, and dessert, all flavored with the amazing mushrooms. (I'll let you know the address, Margaret.) Oh, and come back between 3:00 pm and 5:00 pm for my test results.

So, while we awaited the lab results, we wandered over to the town's most famous site, Pont Valentre, a Medieval bridge that helped the area's residents fend off some attack from English forces. It's in amazingly

good shape and has some scary steps that Robert, our fearless neighbor up the street, would enjoy clambering up for that perfect photo.

Later, back at the hospital, we were given a bill of 20,63 Euros ($27) and told that the doctor would interpret the results for us--this way, please. We'd tried to explain that all we needed was the number, but no. We needed to see the doctor who could speak English. Not.

Finally, I think the doctor understood that I would email my own doctor back in Tucson with the results, and he looked much relieved that he had no responsibility. My INR number was 5, and it's supposed to be between 2 and 3. No doubt that all the rich food we've been having bears much of the blame.

The nurse, meanwhile, wanted us to go down an alley, round to the right, and then proceed left. Why? A bilingual lady came along just in time to tell us that the nurse wanted to be sure we saw the Medieval bridge before heading off to the truffle restaurant.

Instead of having yet another four-course dinner this evening, we bought some wine and take-home for dinner, including a large salad for me. This brought us back to the farm in time to write my doctor and for Bob to take some photos of our B and B.

BTW:  This inn says it has wired internet only so we expected not to be online for these three days. However, even through these thick stone walls we are able to pick up small signal. You are looking at the proof!